Marked Masters

by Ritter Ames

  "As much as Nico hates to speculate…" Cassie paused a moment, as if working this carefully. I figured he might be close-by. "When persuaded, he did admit this probably is the work of an organization of some kind. Too well executed and too well hidden to be done solo or by an amateur. Of course, he immediately qualified and said we couldn't do or say anything until he'd conducted more research to verify his very preliminary theory."

  I thought back to Jack's and my recent discussion.

  "Laurel? You still there?"

  "I'm sorry, Cassie—my mind went off on a tangent. Jack said some duplicates were found to be great fakes. I'll get that information to you and Nico. It might help the research. I forgot to send it to you earlier when I sent the other data."

  "Sounds great. No worries."

  "Thanks for getting in touch. You and Nico know what to do."

  "Yes, we'll keep looking."

  Seeing my reflection in the mirror, wearing a camisole, reminded me that I had a ball to go to tonight. "By the way, fairy godmother, did you and Nico have any luck securing me some clothes for tonight?"

  "Oh, we did indeed. Check with your landlady. If you don't have boxes downstairs yet, you should very soon. Enjoy! And that's an order coming from your financial watchdog."

  "Why do I get the feeling Max is going to replace you in that role?"

  Cassie giggled. "Nico promised no slip-ups this time. I think he's taking great pleasure in this new challenge to his computer skills."

  "You two are scaring me."

  "Just a warning never to cross us, boss." Cassie laughed then added, "Be sure to send me that info Jack had on the duplicates. Don't get excited about an extra Christmas downstairs and forget all about us slogging away here in the trenches."

  "Never." Thank goodness she said that. I'd already forgotten again. We signed off, and I let my thumbs fly over the text screen. I was really missing the laptop I lost when the Honda guys stole our luggage with the rental Mercedes. I needed to at least see about getting a tablet to use if this phase of the job lasted much longer.

  When I hit Send, I considered my next option. Clothes, no contest. Although I could have slept a little longer, within minutes I was dressed in a pair of designer jeans and pink silk overtop, and downstairs hoping for coffee while I searched out my new wardrobe. For the price of the room, I never expected any food served, but coffee would have been a godsend.

  No fragrant hint of the wished-for aroma, but I found several boxes of various sizes stacked on the large round table in the entry. A white embossed card with my name printed on it stood propped on top. Inside, a note Cassie asked the store to add read:

  Enjoy yourself tonight, Cinderella. Hope the shoes fit. If not, don't leave them behind. They're my size, too. ~ Cassie

  Now for the hard choice. Coffee, food, or boxes with the names Armani and La Perla? The packages won hands down, and within minutes I was back in my room, boxes and tissue strewn all over.

  A stunning black sleeveless knee-length sheath that offered new meaning to the concept of the little black dress, and a luxurious silk shawl in ivory with silver Lurex accent thread embroidered throughout added the finishing shimmery elegance. Silk stockings, a pair of barely there heels, and a perfect clutch covered the essentials. Exquisite and understated matching silver earrings, necklace, and bracelet rounded out the ensemble. Plus undergarments to die for. The goodies covered my unmade bed.

  Leaving everything where it was, I grabbed my bag and scooted down the street to the nearest coffeehouse and ordered Americano and a couple of bomboloni, quickly scarfing down the Italian donut holes while standing like every other patron around me. I had a few tasks of my own to complete before I met with Jack.

  The smell of a bakery reminded me of France, and France reminded me of Rollie, since that's where we'd first met. Back when I thought he was just a nice guy. Weird how I couldn't wrap my brain around his connection with Moran or Tony B. Briefly, I wondered if he would be at the show and quickly admonished myself. No matter which way I looked at it, he had to be on the wrong side. For a second, I wanted to call Flavia, but I knew she'd be too busy with last-minute details to talk. I deliberately pushed Rollie out of my mind. The man who I thought I might want to know didn't exist.

  First, I'd see if I could find a place to print out the tickets for tonight. I'd discovered no hookup at the pension. I also wanted to rent a Vespa and drive around the city, but I didn't have time. Maybe tomorrow. I knew Vespas weren't allowed on a lot of the inner-city streets of Florence, which were mostly reserved for pedestrians, but I could refresh myself with the perimeter or drop in on some markets. If only we'd come the last weekend of the month, I could have hit the huge Mercato delle "Pulci." Nothing beat that time each month when the stalls overran the famous flea market to the point where they spilled out from the Piazza dei Ciompi and into the surrounding streets. I'd found many historic Italian treasures after plowing through the bric-a-brac and furniture bargains for sale during that time. One never knew what one might discover while junking.

  A brisk walk and a few minutes later, I walked through the famous lobby of a hotel I had stayed at many times with my grandfather and father. I recognized the receptionist, who had grayed but changed very little otherwise, and hoped he would recognize me.

  "Buon pomeriggo, Lorenzo. Do you remember me?"

  Lorenzo gave a small bow. "Of course, Signorina Laurel. I was sorry to hear about the passing of Signor Beacham. He was a fine man."

  I knew he was talking about my grandfather, rather than my father, even though more than a decade had passed since Grandpapa's death. "Thank you, Lorenzo. I'm not staying, just in and out of the city this trip, but I was wondering if I could very quickly make use of your computer facilities?"

  "Of course, of course. It is a pleasure to serve the granddaughter of such a fine man." He gestured to someone behind me, telling the clerk, apparently Benni, to help with my computer needs.

  "Grazie, Lorenzo." I pressed some euros in his hand.

  He bowed again as I followed Benni to the computer facilities. Within moments, I had the tickets printed, Benni tipped, and was back out on the street.

  I called Nico. He answered on the fourth ring. "Nico, I thought you were going to let me go to voice mail."

  "Believe me, I thought about it." He sounded distracted and not himself.

  "What's up?"

  "I am not sure. This counterfeiting thing may be bigger than I thought. Jack's information provided another avenue, but the weird thing is, I have carefully dug and dug some more for any scuttlebutt on the 'net about this but got nada."

  "Carefully? So no one can spot what you're doing?"

  "Who do you think you are talking to, Laurel?"

  I sighed. "Of course, you're right. How big?"

  "Big. And I'm not sure who, what, or where. There is literally no chatter to be found."

  "Then how do you know it's big?"

  Nico sighed impatiently.

  I could hear his busy brain telling him to stop explaining and get back to detecting. I fully expected the conversation to be shut down as only Nico could—a quiet, polite hang-up.

  Instead, he began saying, "Number one, the why is money. Number two, the how is someone somewhere is apparently convincing and organizing great forgers to create these masterpieces. Forgers are not known for working well together. It's a solitary occupation because they prefer it that way. Which is how I know this is big. Lots and lots of money to be had in counterfeiting masters well, and there is a lot of money rolling around. Unfortunately, the organizational details remain completely blank. I also have not figured out what marks a masterpiece as worthy of imitation in the eyes of these people. This is where you say, 'Good job, Nico,' and trust me to know what I am doing."

  "Of course I trust you." For Nico to talk so much on the telephone meant something absolutely out of the norm was going on. "Who and what could convince good solitary forgers to band together?"

  "Exactly my questi
on, Laurel. All of them I have found so far are good. Better than good actually. This is big business we're talking about."

  "Moran big?"

  "Definitely, but I have found nothing connecting his name nor any of the others to this enterprise. Not his grandson, Tony B, or anyone else. And before you ask, I checked for that dilettante idiot, Simon, too, and everything came back nada. A mystery I know I'll eventually solve, but it is going to take some time."

  Good. Not about the time, but I didn't even wince when he mentioned Simon's name. "You'll get there—you always do. How's Max?" Might as well get the bad news out of the way. I didn't really want to know. That's why I hadn't asked Cassie.

  "Strangely silent."

  Wow. Max silent? Gotta be a first. "What do you make of that?"

  "Not worrying about it at this point. Too many other things to do."

  "Jack had some things he wanted to take care of today. Do you know anything about what he's doing?"

  "No, not this time. He keeps me no more apprised of his plans than you usually do."

  I smiled at the verbal poke. "But you have talked with Cassie," I said, curious as to what he would say.

  "Do not remind me. The woman is in almost in the same wheedling class as you."

  I could forgive him his woman rant. "Why, Nico, are you saying I have competition for your attentions?"

  "Let us just say if I do not speak with either of you again today, it will be a good one."

  "All right, all right, I get the message. When you or Cassie gets the chance, I could use some euros. She enclosed what she had in the office when she packed my bag, but I want to stay off credit cards if I can to avoid the tracking risk. Paying for cabs and lodging and food adds up quick. Plus, I want to go exploring a few hours around Florence tomorrow, play tourist. To see what I can see."

  There was a pause, then he said with a fake Cuban accent, "What are you up to now, Lucy?"

  I laughed at his Lucille Ball reference.

  "Don't worry, Ricky," I said. "I won't make you and Fred have to come and get me."

  Nico returned, "Seriously. Be careful. We know one forgery has come from Italy. Florence may be the origin or at least a major stop along the line. The people responsible for this aren't about to let anyone snooping around come between them and their money."

  "I told you, I'll behave like a tourist. Don't forget I still have your magic escape bag."

  "Laurel…"

  "I promise. No risks, only touristy fun. Last, but not least, would you let me know where the nearest Vespa rental place is with regard to my housing and arrange for a rental? I'm in the mood for something hard and fast that doesn't talk back."

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  A little before seven in the evening, the signora who ran the bed-no-breakfast knocked on my door. "A cab is here, signorina."

  I looked around the room making sure I'd forgotten nothing. I hid my Fendi inside my luggage and hoped my landlady remained as disinterested in my things as earlier in the day. Now, my taxicab chariot awaited, and I would soon come out in my "Florence debut."

  I walked down the stairs, breathing deeply and visualizing calm success for the evening. The heels felt like a dream, as did the various silks rubbing against my skin.

  The leather clutch in my hand held all the necessary accoutrements for a woman in my position: the invitations, pink lip dew, compact, comb, tissues, mints, both telephones, mini-flashlight, and my favorite traveling set of various sized tools—AKA picks and weapons. I wasn't planning anything heavy duty, but I wanted to be as prepared as possible.

  I was already running through the euros faster than I'd planned, and it wasn't completely dark yet, so I had the cab drop me a short distance from the bridge, and I walked to the rendezvous point to meet Jack. It always amazed me how sturdy heels could feel when they appeared as light and unsubstantial as a cloud. If Max kept up the austerity plan, I might be able to drop my gym membership. I slipped the battery into my phone as I neared the bridge to give Jack the heads up. He didn't answer. I didn't know if I should be concerned or if he was still miffed at how I'd run away from him again.

  The Ponte Vecchio, as usual, was packed with people. Most of the excruciatingly expensive shops were closed, but a few of the lights were still on, showing jewelers catering to select clientele. I passed a shop I remembered from a trip with Grandfather, where he knew the owner and had a special necklace and earrings made for my grandmother. I'd have to see if I could stop and say hello before I left Florence. The older jeweler was gone now—he was a contemporary of my grandfather—but his son and grandson still kept the family business alive.

  The sunset view of the Arno about midway down the bridge was breathtaking. I smiled at teenage couples more interested in viewing each other than watching the shifting light over the water. Their loss. I loved the romance of the bridge. Not just the young lovers, of course, but also the fact the bridge had stood over six centuries in that one spot and survived! Hitler bombed all the other Florentine bridges when the Nazis retreated during World War II, but he spared the Ponte Vecchio. I raised my gaze and saw the upper corridor the Medicis used to keep from having to mix with the common folk, as the upper crust traveled from their palace to their offices, now the Uffizi Gallery and the Town Hall. There was so much to love in this glorious city.

  My mind was again lost in the movement of the water when I felt Jack behind me. He didn't say anything. Didn't touch me. Yet I knew it was he. I didn't want him to know I was so aware of his presence and pretended to remain captivated by the view.

  "You really shouldn't stand out here in the open," he finally said.

  I made a slow turn to take in the almost wall-to-wall experience of humans around us. There was no point in arguing. I knew where his remark came from. I looked at him and smiled. "Hello, Jack. Ready to put me on display?"

  He should have been on display himself. He was magnificent in a black tie and custom Armani tux. A silver-tipped ivory rose, matching my wrap, graced his silk lapel.

  "You've been busy." I smiled and tilted my head.

  He held out another ivory rose, this time long stemmed, and said, "A beautiful rose for a beautiful woman."

  I shockingly felt my skin heat at the hackneyed phrase and tried to stop the blush, but it came anyway. I quickly looked down as I took the rose. "You must have spoken to Cassie."

  He held his hands up in a what can I say? gesture. "She told me your colors, but the beautiful part comes from me."

  "A compliment twice in one day. Thank you, Jack. It's lovely." I sniffed and found the flower smelled equally terrific. "Do I need to be worried about a tracking device?" I teased, peeking into the bloom.

  I looked up in time to see his freshly shaved jaw tighten. "No. No tracking, listening, or any other gadget tonight. I trust you to stay with me. Be my partner." He took my arm.

  Wow! Someone had his knickers in a twist again. He smelled wonderful, however—clean with a faint afterthought of a woodsy cologne, Bulgari Man, maybe, that my nose picked up even over the floral aroma of the rose. Time to lighten the mood. I pretended to pout as we headed for the cathedral side of the bridge. "The whole time? What will everyone think?"

  "Does it matter? We're trying to set in motion a series of events that will get us somewhere in this hurry-up-and-wait investigation. I'm sick of being on the outside looking in. Don't worry. I'm not going to stop you from talking to your friends."

  We took our time getting to the gallery. I could tell he was still on edge, but the conversation stayed light, and he kept any further orders to himself. Since we had no idea what to expect, there was no way to plan. I decided to just enjoy the city.

  He apparently had other plans. "What's going on in the Cassie and Nico world?"

  "You spoke with Cassie earlier."

  "Just for color combinations. She was busy and said you would fill me in on their work."

  In other words, she was letting me pick and choose what he needed to know. Good girl, but
under the circumstances I figured I'd better play completely fair. First, however, I needed to think. I delayed by sniffing the rose. Jack brought a halt to that ploy by placing a hand over mine and pulling the flower away from my face. "Laurel, spill."

  I did a little smoothing move down my dress. "Not until I have your solemn oath to tell me what you did today."

  "I slept. Tried to find out something more about the snuffbox without success. Got in touch with a few of my contacts to discreetly inquire if they had heard anything at all about forgeries. Your turn."

  "Had they heard anything? Information on Tony B or Moran?"

  "No. I'm hoping this little get-together will bring someone or something out in the open. Nico, Cassie?"

  "This might be bigger than we had originally thought." I quickly ran through the little I'd been told. "Often, as I'm sure you know, the social world is the first place to start checking out anything big. Tonight we should work on forming or re-forming social contacts, play the game, as it were. If Florence is the key and it's as big as Nico thinks it is, we need to immediately create a reason for our presence here separately."

  "You've read my mind. The tickets indicate Beacham Foundation, and I'll make sure everyone knows I'm your plus one. Nothing official, but wherever you go tonight, I go as well. We need to see what happens. Play up your relationship with Flavia as the reason for the last-minute decision to show up tonight. Our joint interest in the art world is our common bond."

  Even if I still didn't trust him and he irritated the heck out of me, Jack, his contacts, and his brawn and ease with a gun had proven to be helpful a few times already. His idea didn't seem to be asking too much. After all, it didn't take much of a stretch for me to catch on to the staked goat analogy, so my subconscious obviously agreed with the idea. My conscious mind, of course, kept saying, "Watch it!"

  "Okay, casual but cautious. You point out your bogeymen, and I'll point out mine."

  "Deal."

  My mind started fast-forwarding to find any hitches we might need to anticipate in the plan. "If anyone asks, where do you want to say we met?"