by Don Easton
Carina again glanced around the restaurant, then sat down and speared a piece of eggplant with her fork.
“Do you know what Roche does?” asked Jack, hoping to smooth things over.
“All I know is he has something to do with trading precious metals on the stock market,” she said, sounding annoyed. “I understand that he deals with the elite of society.” She paused. “Roche indicated you may be hired as a consultant.”
Jack nodded.
“What would that entail?” asked Carina in a tone that indicated she was being polite, but not particularly interested.
“My work would focus on making a company run efficiently, protect against corporate takeovers, and ensure company secrets remain secret.”
Carina raised one eyebrow. “That does sound interesting. What was your formal education in?”
“I lack formal education … but make up for it with hands-on experience. Let’s just say I have the ability to think outside the box.” If I don’t, I end up inside a box.
“Maybe we should get something straight between the two of us,” said Carina firmly. “Roche told me that you presented yourself as an art collector, but wasn’t sure if you were simply trying to impress him. He said that if you weren’t genuine, his clients would easily spot you as a phony, and his company would be cast in a bad light.” She paused, then added, “I wanted to find out if you were being pretentious. If you were, I couldn’t see why Roche should waste money paying for us to travel around Europe.”
“At least I understand your reason for all the questions,” said Jack.
“I have to admit, some of my interest in you was personal.”
“Oh?”
“Roche mentioned you had obtained a painting recently purported to be an undiscovered Pierrot by Jean-Antoine Watteau.”
“I did,” Jack said. “I believe it is authentic, but am not in any particular hurry to find out, as I do not plan to part with it either way.”
“Such a painting would be a remarkable discovery, if it were truly authentic. Roche said if you ever invited me to authenticate it, he would like to know.”
I bet he would.
“He doesn’t have any interest in art himself,” continued Carina, “so I presume he looks at it as a way to judge your credibility. The thing is, as I told him, many experienced art collectors have been fooled. There are some extremely good forgeries on the market, and that alone should not be a basis to judge your credibility, regardless of whether it is real.”
Jack remained silent.
“I would love to see it sometime. If it is real … well, it would be like finding a Spanish galleon filled with treasure. Worth as much, too.”
“The value of it doesn’t concern me,” Jack said. “It does concern me that Roche told you about it. I would prefer nobody know I have it.”
“My discretion in such matters is absolute. I deal with many collectors who have rare and priceless paintings. I fully appreciate the need to keep secret.”
“Hopefully Roche is of the same mind.”
“I believe he is. When he told me, he cautioned me not to tell anyone.”
“Good.”
Carina took a sip of wine, then placed her glass down. She eyed Jack curiously. “Besides prostitutes, what else were you going to say a moment ago? You said you didn’t appreciate Roche lining you up with prostitutes or … Or what?”
“Or people hired to spy on me,” replied Jack.
“Spy on you!” exclaimed Carina.
“You deny it?”
“I guess you could call it spying, but I viewed it more like I was giving an overall character reference. It’s not like I planned to sneak into your briefcase or read your emails or anything. He simply wants to know what sort of person you are and your degree of sophistication. I’m to give him a full evaluation in a week.”
“A week?”
“Yes, but I wasn’t supposed to let you know I had been asked to do that.”
“It can be our secret. I don’t mind that you will be reporting to him.”
“You don’t?” She sounded surprised.
“I would want to check out anyone I was going to hire.”
Carina nodded. “Guess I wouldn’t make a very good spy, would I.”
“You did come on pretty strong, but that’s okay.” Jack twirled a mushroom with his fork in the pâté, then met Carina’s gaze once more. “How did you meet Roche?”
“I had brunch today with a client I did some restoration work for. He introduced me to Roche.”
“If your client is a collector, too bad he didn’t join us.”
“He had to catch a flight back to Russia this evening.”
“He’s Russian?”
Carina nodded.
Jack smiled, as if he knew something amusing. Come on, Carina, take the bait.
“What’s so funny?” she asked.
“I’ve met a few Russians who purported to be … shall we say, cultured. Let me picture your client and you tell me if I’m right.”
Now Carina looked amused. “Go for it.”
“He has a large belly and a grey, walrus-type moustache. I picture him standing on a bearskin rug in front of a stone fireplace with the heads of dead animals mounted on the wall. His first name is either Boris or Ivan.” Jack smiled, then asked, “How have I done so far?”
Carina grinned and shook her head. “Not well.”
“Then let me add that if you were ever to see him on the beach, he would be wearing black, knee-high socks, sandals, and a Speedo.”
“Oh, my God.” Carina laughed. “Not even close. The man is highly sophisticated and a philanthropist of the best kind.”
“Of the best kind?”
“Anonymous and not for recognition. I only know because a painting of his that I did some restoration work on was later donated anonymously to the Tretyakov State Gallery in Moscow. It happened about six years ago, soon after his wife died.”
“That’s too bad he lost his wife. What did she die of?”
“Cancer,” replied Carina sadly. “She was a big patron of the arts and at the same time the painting was donated, a large donation was made to the Moscow Art Theatre. I know it was him.”
Jack curbed any outward appearance of the excitement he felt and kept his reply nonchalant. “Okay, so I was wrong about his sophistication. How about the rest?”
“Definitely no walrus moustache or big belly. He has black hair and is physically fit.”
Bingo.
“Complete opposite of what you imagined,” she continued. “He’s actually quite an adventurer. Scuba diving, hang-gliding … a real zest for life.”
“Sounds like a bit of a risk taker.”
“Perhaps,” said Carina. “I admire people who have a real zest for life.”
“His name isn’t Boris or Ivan?”
“No. But I can’t tell you his name because I have to keep that secret.”
“Oh?”
“I would not divulge your name to anyone, either. At least not in regard to having a valuable painting.”
“Damn, so much for trying to impress you with my psychic abilities.”
Carina smiled. “You’re not entirely wrong. He likes to hunt and does have a couple of stone fireplaces, but I have never seen any heads mounted on the walls.”
“Aha!” Jack exclaimed. “And have you ever seen him in a bathing suit?”
“That I haven’t,” Carina said. “If I ever do, I’ll report back to you.”
Jack exchanged a smile with her in response.
* * *
Laura looked at the two thugs standing in front of the hotel, then turned to Maurice. “Do you have anyone working who’s close by and on foot?”
“I have two men on standby waiting in the Tuileries Garden.”
“Even better. Get them to walk over and drive this van away. Tell them to come down the street holding hands.”
“Holding hands?”
“If you saw that, would you think they wer
e police officers?” asked Laura.
“No.” Maurice realized what Laura was getting at. “Still, if they drive the van away … what if Jack needs help? Where will —”
“If he needs help, he’ll throw someone out a window,” said Laura seriously. “You can hear the sound of breaking glass a long way away.”
Maurice’s mouth fell open in disbelief.
“Damn it, call them!” said Otto.
Maurice grabbed his portable radio and rapidly spoke in French.
A moment later Otto gestured toward the two thugs. “They’ve got company.”
Maurice picked up the binoculars that hung from his neck. “It’s Roche. They’re all looking our way.” He glanced at Laura. “There is nothing on the van to identify it. No reason for them to be doing this.”
“How many vans do you see with dark windows and a curtain separating the front from the back?” asked Otto.
“Please tell me that you don’t have anyone sitting in cars around the block,” added Laura.
“No,” replied Maurice. “After Jack’s conversation with Yves, he agreed to back off as long as I watched the front of the hotel and had two officers close by on foot.” He pointed out the window. “There they are. I better crawl to the front and unlock the door.”
Laura saw two men walking hand in hand down the street, then pretend to unlock the van and get in.
Roche watched, also, then disappeared into the hotel lobby. The two thugs left.
* * *
Jack looked up from his appetizer as Carina leaned forward and spoke in a low voice. “I’m sorry if I was prying too much into what you like or don’t like about art,” she said. “For some, it’s a personal issue. I obviously touched a nerve when I asked you what your favourite painting was. It is none of my business and I am sorry.”
“It’s okay,” replied Jack. “I —”
Carina glanced past Jack, then said, “Roche is returning. Quick, before he arrives, do you still want me to be your guide? I could easily bow out. I would understand if you don’t want me after the scene I made.”
And have them pick someone else? “No, please, I would like to have you show me around.”
Carina looked relieved. “Okay, good. But you should also know that they are paying me to evaluate your level of sophistication. I have a reputation for being ethical, so be forewarned that I will give them my honest opinion.”
“I wouldn’t respect you if you didn’t.”
“Which — because I sense you’re honest — will be fun in that we can visit museums at their expense.”
Shit. “Yes, that will be great.” He paused. “I promise I will tell you why the Pierrot painting means so much to me.”
“Only if you want to,” Carina said.
“I do, but I don’t want to spoil the evening by becoming emotional. If people knew, even people like Roche, it would help them understand why I am so deeply in love with it. I’ll tell you tomorrow when we are in Marseille.”
Carina nodded. “So everything is okay between us?”
“Yes. Let’s not mention our conversation to Roche and start fresh, shall we?”
Carina smiled, then held out her hand. “Hello, my name is Carina.”
“Pleased to meet you.” Jack shook her hand.
“And I’m not a prostitute,” she whispered, then gave a saucy grin as Roche pulled out his chair to sit down.
Jack smiled back at her. You are my ticket to the Ringmaster. Then another thought entered his head. Would they extract revenge on you later? His mind juggled that possibility. They were the ones who hired you ... so they’d have to realize you were duped and so there’d be no reason to kill you.… He stabbed at a mushroom with his fork and put it in his mouth. He should have enjoyed the savoury flavour, but he didn’t and knew why. I’m lying to myself. They killed Kerin for no reason.
“Everything okay?” Carina asked.
“Everything’s fine,” replied Roche. “It was nothing. I shouldn’t have been called.”
“I meant Jack,” said Carina. “You were frowning,” she said by way of explanation.
Jack smiled again. “I was thinking that I’ve never had this good of an appetizer in Canada, and was wondering why.”
“Ah, the French can cook, let me tell you that,” said Roche, hoisting his glass of wine in a toast.
Jack looked at Carina’s face as he toasted. I’ll need to deceive you, but only for a week. You’ll be long out of the picture by the time the Ringmaster is caught.
Her eyes sparkled and she gave him a warm smile. Jack smiled back, but the unsavoury taste remained.
Chapter Forty-Four
It was midnight when Jack bade Carina and Roche good night, and an hour later when he met the team in Otto’s room. He was surprised to see Yves there, as well.
“Working late tonight for a boss,” Jack teased him. “Perhaps you could give my bosses back in Canada some guidance on doing real police work.”
“I won’t sleep until the Ringmaster is in jail,” Yves explained. “Maurice called me to say that while you were having dinner, two men were checking for surveillance around the hotel and that they called Roche out to look at our van.”
“So that’s what that was about,” Jack said. “He gave me a bit of a hairy eyeball when he left the table, but seemed relaxed when he returned.”
“We had the van leave when they were watching,” Laura said.
“In the future, let’s get one extra room in whatever hotel I’m staying in,” Jack suggested. “Preferably one that overlooks the main entrance so you’ll be able to see who comes and goes. The room could be used as a field office as long as everyone takes care not to be seen. It would also make it easier for me to debrief everyone.”
“I would agree with that.” Yves nodded. “So how did it go tonight? Are you still scheduled to fly to Marseille tomorrow morning?”
“Yes. We’re booked for two nights at the Sofitel Marseille Vieux Port Hotel. After that, it will be up to me whether I stay or continue my search for a retirement villa elsewhere. As far as tomorrow goes, they’ve lined up a real estate agent to take us around after we check into our hotel.”
“I’ll try to get us a room,” said Yves. “Although I am not sure how to get one that overlooks the entrance without drawing suspicion.”
“Tell them you stayed in the front of the hotel years earlier on your honeymoon and that it has sentimental value for you,” Laura suggested.
Yves smiled. “That might work.”
Jack nodded. “The name of the art expert who’ll be accompanying me is Carina Saftstrom. She gave —”
“Ha, a Swedish name,” said Otto, grinning at Laura.
“Yes, she’s Swedish,” said Jack, giving Otto and Laura a quizzical look.
Laura nodded begrudgingly at Otto. “Okay, so you do know women.”
Otto opened his eyes wide and pointed to them, still grinning.
“As I was saying,” Jack continued, “she gave me her business card. I want someone to put a trace on her phone and get a list of all her calls. She may have had brunch with the Ringmaster today … or I guess, technically, yesterday.”
“She told you that?” Laura looked astonished.
“Not in those exact words. Let me start from the beginning.”
When Jack was finished, Otto said, “The swarthy-looking man I saw with Roche in Frankfurt looked more like a Spaniard or an Italian, not Russian.”
Maurice said, “Perhaps you saw someone else. The Russian has to be him — but who is he?”
“He’s definitely a good possibility,” replied Jack, “and for now I will go under that assumption. Her call history may give us a name.”
Maurice nodded, then wrote down the phone numbers from Carina’s business card.
“Tonight she’s staying in a hotel that sounds like the Hotel of the Little Louvre,” said Jack.
“The Hotel de Lille Louvre,” said Maurice. “It’s about a kilometre away. A modest place, perhaps fift
y Euros a night, but reportedly clean.”
“Guess the money associated with valuable paintings is for the owner and not those who evaluate or work on them,” said Jack. “Her home base is in Zurich, but she also uses answering services, which are the other numbers on her card.”
“Paris, Rome, Stockholm, London, and Zurich,” Maurice noted from the business card. He handed it back to Jack.
“Which means our man from Moscow likely used her answering service in Paris to contact her,” Jack said. “Either that, or through her email address. Still, it would be nice to find out who she’s phoning.”
“A list of who she calls won’t be a problem,” Yves said. “Who calls her through the answering services is a problem. If we check those, word may get back to her.”
“She told me he had to catch a flight back to Russia this evening,” Jack told him.
“We could check the manifests and come up with a list to run past the Russian police.”
“I would be a little worried about checking with the police in Russia,” Jack said. “There’s a lot of corruption there, and if this guy is as rich as I imagine, he’ll have connections. I don’t want to risk it, especially if I can draw him out in another week on my own.”
Yves breathed out audibly. “I understand, but speaking of risk, what about Carina? What if she puts in a bad report on you?”
“We cross that bridge when we come to it.” Jack glanced at Laura. “I think I can befriend her enough that she won’t say anything too detrimental.”
Laura nodded knowingly.
“Maybe she’d help us if she knew the truth,” suggested Maurice.
Jack shook his head. “I prefer she not know. It could change her demeanour around Roche and I doubt she’d stand up to questioning. These people are violent. The less she knows about me, the better. I don’t want her ever seen as having intentionally helped me.”
“Even if she wanted to co-operate, I doubt she’d want to give up her profession and spend the rest of her life living under a false identity,” Yves added.
“I wouldn’t mind if inquiries were made about her with the Swiss police,” said Jack, “providing it could be done without her knowledge. I’d like to know more about her. Anything I can use to distract her while getting her to like me might help.”
