Marked for Revenge

by Jennifer S. Alderson

  But first, Ivan faced a daunting task—convincing his artists to work with him on this rather rushed and unusual assignment. Only then could he call Luka.

  Not only did the Croatian crime boss ask him to compile a list of art to steal but he also wanted Ivan to arrange collection points for his thieves to drop off their loot. Instead of using his galleries, as he had done in the past, Ivan decided to use his own artists as the drop-off points. It would save time and keep more distance between his gallery in Amsterdam and the thefts. It would also simplify the execution of his plan.

  Luka wanted the originals, and he would get them. But he didn’t need to know about the second set Ivan would have created. Several of the artists his galleries represented had copied a piece of artwork for him in the past but never under such a tight deadline. Ivan hoped the extra cash incentive would be enough to help speed their efforts and get everything finished on time.

  To assist his flock, he had already prepared packets about each piece, including information about the canvas size, frame, medium, general condition, and paints used. That would be enough to get them started. However, he knew from experience that nothing beat copying the real thing.

  He opened one of the folders on his desk and quickly checked that all of the printouts and photos were inside. The Amstel Modern in Amstelveen was about to host an exhibition that was perfectly suited to his needs. For that job, he was planning to use his most experienced and trusted artist, a strong-willed and bad-tempered Croatian beauty named Gabriella Tamic, who happened to live in nearby Amsterdam. Now all he had to do was convince her to take on the assignment. If she agreed, the rest would easily follow suit.

  5 A Job Proposal

  August 16, 2018

  Ivan rang the intercom to Postjesweg 1, apartment number seven. He smoothed back his long, gray hair, mentally running through his approach as he waited for Gabriella to answer. Seconds later, the speaker crackled to life.

  “Yes?”

  “It’s Ivan.”

  “Come on up.”

  The door buzzed open. Ivan entered the expansive lobby of Het Sieraad and rode the elevator up to Gabriella’s apartment. It shuddered slightly as it reached the top floor. The door at the end of the short hallway was already open, and the bitter scent of turpentine grew stronger as he approached her studio, one of three that he owned in this building.

  Ivan had represented Gabriella since she graduated from the Royal Academy of Fine Arts in Antwerp four years ago. She was also from Split and the same age as his daughter Marjana. The girls had been best friends since they first met in primary school, and Ivan had followed Gabriella’s evolution as an artist with interest. She was almost as talented as his daughter was. He was thrilled she agreed to let him represent her and promised her widowed mother that he would take good care of her.

  Of his current flock of artists, Gabriella was the most profitable, and that was saying something. Last time he counted, his gallery represented three hundred artists residing in the fifteen European countries where his chain of modern and contemporary art galleries were located. This mix of old and new was the key to his galleries’ successes, and one born out of necessity.

  To meet the specific demands of his financial backers and keep all the galleries profitable, he had to get creative and carve out a unique niche. In contrast to most, his galleries showcased expensive masterpieces worth millions alongside works by emerging artists worth tens of thousands. Oddly enough, his unusual tactic worked, and the pieces spoke to each other thanks to his incredible eye and clever placement. To most of his competitors’ surprise, his clients bought both kinds of works and proudly hung them in their residential museums-in-the-making. Now, instead of mocking his approach as amateurish, his fiercest critics copied him in style and selection.

  Despite the number of galleries employing a similar approach, artists still flocked to him, knowing he was one of the few able to turn them into European stars. He went above and beyond most galleries by providing his artists with studio space, quality supplies, and the freedom to experiment. Being chosen by Ivan Novak was akin to being anointed by one of the gods of the art world.

  Long ago, when Luka’s crew of forgers became swamped with work, Luka had asked him if some of the more talented artists he represented could help out. At first, Ivan wasn’t sure how to approach them or what their reaction might be, but to his surprise and delight, most were so hungry to get ahead they had no trouble completing the work, no questions asked. Especially when they were rewarded with a substantial bonus and a prime spot in one of his galleries.

  The few who had refused to play along were quietly removed from his flock and warned never to say a word. And even if they did, he was one of the most successful and respected art dealers in Europe. It would be easy enough to portray them as an artist scorned. Thankfully, he’d yet to have to deal with such an incident.

  In many ways, this new job was not unlike his past requests. The tricky part was the timing. His artists wouldn’t have the originals in their possession for weeks, but days. And their versions would have to be collected shortly after. When selecting works to steal, the drying time had been a major factor. Ivan had purposely chosen sketch-like works that would not require several layers. He knew creating perfect copies would be simple enough for Gabriella and several others he represented, even within this tight timeframe.

  “Gabriella, darling. It’s wonderful to see you again.”

  The young artist pulled him in for a hug then kissed him on each cheek. Her short bob tickled his chin.

  “You too, Ivan. It’s been too long.” She pushed him back, holding his shoulders tight, and eyed him critically.

  He attempted a soft, fatherly grin, but it came out more of a grimace. Gabriella was looking at him like his daughter used to when she was worried he wasn’t eating well.

  Despite her obvious concern, she said, “You look good, much better than you did the last time you visited. The twinkle’s back in your eye. What are you up to?”

  Gabriella’s brow furrowed as if she were trying to understand what could have changed his mood. From her expression, she clearly assumed it wasn’t good. He had forgotten that it was no use lying to the girl because she was always able to see right through his lies. But that wasn’t why he had avoided Gabriella. When he looked at this vibrant young woman, he saw his daughter—the same talent, self-assuredness, charisma, and passion for life. He saw what should have been, and it broke his heart to be around her for long.

  Ivan shrugged as he forced himself to smile. “I’ve embarked on a new project, and I guess it suits me.”

  Gabriella finally released his shoulders then plopped onto her overstuffed couch. She patted the space next to her. “Why don’t you tell me more about it.”

  Ivan slowly lowered his old bones onto the soft upholstery and pulled a folder out of his briefcase.

  “I have been asked to arrange something extraordinary. However, it is quite a large project, and I need the help of several artists. If you choose to work on it, you must understand that it will demand all of your technical prowess, but you will be highly rewarded for your efforts. Even more than usual.” Gabriella was unique in that she could paint convincingly and rapidly in any style. She could easily complete this task if she agreed to do so.

  The young woman’s eyes widened. “Oh, that’s generous! I’m all ears. Ever since my neighbor flew to Indonesia, I can’t stop thinking about studying abroad. I’ve got my eye on a three-month residency in Tahiti. A cash injection is just what I need.” She tucked one leg up under the other and leaned forward.

  Ivan opened the folder and handed her the four full-color images on top.

  She grabbed them greedily, though her enthusiasm quickly faded once her eyes took them in. “Okay, nice sketches. Alexander Calder painted quite a few of these studies, and Franz Kline made a lot of sketches like this one. Hans Hofmann is one of my favorites; his use of color is extraordinary. This Pollock is lovely. You don’t see hi
s early drip paintings often in Europe. I take it you need a copy?”

  Gabriella was a long-time forger and knew the copies she made for him were sold at a significant profit to gullible buyers. After Marjana’s death and his break with Luka, he had resorted to selling forgeries more frequently to keep his galleries profitable. In the beginning, he’d tried to fool her by saying the copies were for clients who couldn’t afford the real thing. Unlike the others he represented, Gabriella wasn’t content with this obvious lie. If she weren’t so talented and hadn’t been his daughter’s best friend, he probably would have cut her loose after the first round of questioning. Instead, he’d chosen to trust her.

  “This assignment is a bit different than the rest. These copies have to be perfect in every way, preferably museum quality.”

  With the enthusiasm of the young, the artist didn’t cringe or become wary but snickered. “You know my work is always perfect.”

  “Yes, of course,” he soothed. “But this time, your copy needs to fool an expert. At least, at first glance. These clients are more, let’s say, upscale than usual. More risk means more reward for us both.”

  Gabriella opened her mouth to respond when Ivan added, “The trouble is, you will only have a few days to complete them.”

  The artist cocked her head and frowned. “Umm, I’ve never seen these pieces before. And while your printouts are a good starting point, there’s not enough detail here to copy them precisely. Where are the paintings now? In one of your other galleries? Or still with the owner?”

  “They will be on display in the Amstel Modern next Friday as part of a special exhibition of American modernists. I’m fairly certain the museum’s security will let you sketch with pencils in the hall. At least, they usually do.” Ivan held his breath, hoping Gabriella wouldn’t bail out now.

  Instead, she arched her eyebrows, the first indication she understood there was something different about this job. “What do you mean?”

  “A mutual friend wants to remove them from the Amstel Modern. I am arranging the drop-off points for him. I hoped you would agree to be one of them. I need a copy made of all four. I’ll let you decide which ones you want to work on. You’ll have one to two weeks, at most, to copy them. I was planning to ask Anthony to help you.” Ivan rushed his words, praying she would agree to help him. Otherwise, it was going to be nearly impossible to convince the others to take this big of a risk.

  Gabriella’s face grew increasing ashen as he spoke. “You don’t mean Luka Antic, do you?” Her voice was a whisper.

  “Yes, I do.”

  Gabriella’s body trembled. “Why would you agree to work with that monster again?”

  Her outburst reminded Ivan of his youth when the world was still black and white. The shades of gray would come later. “Can we ever say no?”

  “Yes, you can! You broke free from all of that. Why would you agree to help him with anything?”

  Ivan wanted to grab her and hug her tight, to protect her from the cruel reality of their world. He longed to tell her the truth but knew it was far too risky. No one could know what he was planning. Luka had eyes and ears everywhere. Instead of baring his soul, he sighed.

  “I have my reasons. It’s a simple job, and we will be well paid for it. Luka wants me to arrange drop-off points for a series of robberies. As far as he is concerned, you are nothing more than an address. It is my responsibility to get the artwork to him shortly after it is delivered to you. You won’t have any contact with him. He won’t know about the copies you will then make, nor does he need to. They are for me. I can turn two profits from one robbery and help you get to Tahiti. The only problem is a tight deadline. That’s why I need my best artists to help me.”

  “Even after everything that happened with Marjana?” Gabriella asked, tears forming in her eyes.

  He frowned. She hadn’t been listening to him. Ivan wondered if she was overwhelmed by anger, sadness, or fear. Probably all three, he thought. Ivan knew Gabriella was no stranger to organized crime or the ensuing violence. Her father was killed by a prominent Croatian mafia family when she was fourteen years old. Soon after, her mother had immigrated to Luxembourg to get Gabriella away from that life.

  Ivan always suspected Marjana had told Gabriella who Luka really was and what she did for him despite being repeatedly warned never to tell a soul. It was only natural. He could imagine Marjana had needed someone to confide in, especially when she was older and her talents made her Luka’s prisoner. Did Gabriella also know about his role in Marjana’s demise?

  “Gabriella, he’s unintentionally providing me with a way of building up my pension. I’m not getting any younger, and the galleries eat up most of the cash that comes in.”

  “Be careful, Ivan. You know as well as I do that you don’t want to cross men like him.”

  “He wants the originals, and he’ll get them. What’s the problem?”

  Gabriella stared at him then started to laugh, a sinister bray that sent chills up his spine. “Are you serious?”

  “This is a chance of a lifetime. I cannot say no. And I don’t want to.” He gathered up the photographs and began placing everything back into the folder. “This job needs to be as perfect as possible, which means I need your help. I’ll get you the special brushes and paints that you’ll need. If you want to use ovens to dry the layers faster or age the canvas, just let me know. I can arrange one to be brought here or move you to a larger studio with one already in it. I’ll let you decide.”

  Gabriella searched his face as if she expected to find answers in his wrinkled skin for his seemingly rash and unwise decision.

  “Once the art is delivered, you will have about a week to finish your copies before I pick up the originals. I will take care of any transport issues. All you have to do is buzz the robbers into your lobby and collect the artwork. As far as anyone else is concerned, they are artist friends delivering a few pieces for an upcoming show. That happens all the time, so no one will look at any of you twice.”

  “And you think Luka will let you do this because?” Gabriella stared at him.

  “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

  “But he may hurt me. And he has a habit of finding things out.” Her words carried more weight than they should have. Marjana couldn’t get away from Luka despite her immaculate planning. There was no shortage of those willing to rat out another to improve their lot in life.

  “He won’t hurt you. I will make sure of it.” His voice broke as his words sunk in. He couldn’t protect his daughter from the Croatian’s wrath, and they both knew it.

  “But he’ll know where I live.”

  “You’re going to Tahiti in a few weeks, right?” Ivan smiled, trying to lighten the mood. Gabriella’s somber expression made it clear his efforts were not appreciated. “His team will have your address and a code name. Your only contact with them will be via a disposable phone, one that I will provide, which should be destroyed as soon as the artwork is delivered. Luka will never know that you live here, Gabriella. He’ll never know your real name. Once Luka gets his paintings, he’ll forget you ever existed.”

  Gabriella’s terse lips told him she wasn’t convinced.

  “If you want, I’ll move you to another studio, a bigger one in another city. Just say the word. But really, we’re not in Croatia, and things are different here.” Even to his ears, his excuse sounded lame. Of course, there were no land boundaries that could stop a force of nature such as Luka Antic. The man had a sixth sense for betrayal, and his organization had tentacles everywhere in Europe.

  Gabriella remained silent, clearly still contemplating his proposal.

  “I have chosen smaller pieces that are easy to carry and transport,” Ivan pushed on. “The thieves will receive instructions to pack them up so the images aren’t visible just in case one of your neighbors stops to chat before you can get them upstairs. No one will be the wiser.” He tried to say it casually so as not to upset her. “I’ll come by the next day and t
ake whichever pieces you won’t have time to copy to Anthony so that we can meet our deadline. You get first choice.”

  “The most difficult, of course.” Gabriella folded her arms over her chest and stuck out her lip.

  Ivan smiled. Even fear couldn’t temper her youthful arrogance. “Good. Sure. I’ll let you choose. It sounds like we’ve got this all worked out then. Right?”

  Gabriella’s face was awash with emotions. “Would you have asked your daughter to do this? To work with Luka’s men?” she asked, her voice quiet.

  Ivan looked stricken. He lay one hand on Gabriella’s arm. “Oh, yes. Marjana would approve of my plan. I assure you.”

  Gabriella gazed deeply into his eyes then took his hands in hers.

  “Okay, I’ll do it. I trust you implicitly, Ivan.”

  6 Sleepless Nights

  August 17, 2018

  Zelda slapped her alarm clock, silencing the incessant beeping for the third time. Rubbing at her eyes, she yawned deeply, sucking in enough warm air to energize her lungs. She’d slept poorly and couldn’t quite get her eyes to open fully.

  She stretched out on her bed, staring out at the blue skies above. The skylights running the length of the apartment were her favorite feature of this top-floor studio. They even opened, which was a great way to ventilate the strong chemical smells that often leaked into her apartment. Most of her neighbors were oil or acrylic painters and tended to leave their doors open to air their spaces out while they worked, meaning the hallway often reeked.

  The only downside of leaving the skylights open was the noise. Depending on where Zelda was standing, it sometimes sounded as if strangers were inside her apartment. The sound was amplified when Zelda lay in her bed, which was built on a makeshift loft only a few feet away from the open skylight. Luckily, Zelda’s apartment was at the end of the hallway, meaning she only had one direct neighbor to contend with—a young Croatian painter named Gabriella.