Long Buried Secrets: James Dieter Book 4

by Francis Joseph Smith

  Yuri saw them come into view, the black clad figures running from the museum to the van. “Start the engine, Lana,” he said. “We have to stay behind them.”

  As she was ready to pull out, Lana noticed a police car approaching at a high rate of speed from behind them. She made a quick decision and pulled out into the narrow road, in doing so blocking the police car from getting by.

  The police car skidded to a stop only feet from their car. The police now applied its cars sirens, in essence ordering them to clear a path on the single lane road.

  Lana rolled down her window. “I’m so sorry,” she said in German to the two officers in the car.

  “What are you doing, Lana?” asked Yuri. “You will get us caught.”

  “I’m giving them some time to get away,” she replied. “We know what type of vehicle the Dieters are driving, the police don’t.”

  A loudspeaker barked an order in German to clear a path.

  Lana waved out the window in acknowledgment, backing into her spot once more.

  The police car sped past them, lights blazing, before turning in the opposite direction of the Dieters.

  “Now we catch the Dieters ourselves,” said Lana.

  “Quick thinking. And that’s why I married you,” said Yuri. “Now go, hurry.”

  CHAPTER 61

  From his vantage point in the hotel, Dolan saw the black clad figures running from the side window to the awaiting van. He soon noticed the lights were back on inside the museum.

  He took another sip of his Scotch. Feels like a live crime drama, he thought.

  As he saw Dieter and his crew drive away, he noticed a car pull out into the street directly into the path of a approaching police car, temporarily blocking them from squeezing past. When the confusion ended, the police car drove up to the stop sign and turned right, driving past the front of the museum as they angled down a separate side street, evidently on another call.

  There was no Museum alarm.

  They did it! he thought.

  They actually did it!

  DOLAN HAD JUST DRIFTED OFF to sleep when his cell phone abruptly rang on his nightstand. “Hello,” he said, his voice raspy.

  “Dolan,” said Jim. “I didn’t mean to wake you but its time.”

  “I understand,” replied Dolan. “You said something earlier about providing me with directions to our meeting spot.”

  In under a minute Dolan had directions and a time to meet. By 5am he and his goon were checked out of the hotel and heading to France.

  CHAPTER 62

  02:21am Bern Switzerland

  Each of the Museum guards woke from their gas-induced slumber within seconds of each other. Four of the five still had game controllers in their hands; the fifth had been watching the other four play their games when each had drifted off.

  They never realized what had transpired.

  Now with the power restored, the wall of 20 LED monitors in front of them showed various locations around the museum. All undisturbed. The two LED monitors the guards had been using for their video game were experiencing the snow effect. “I must have dozed off for a second or two,” said one guard to the others. “Why don’t you reset the screens for our game.”

  In seconds they were playing another round of Assassins Creed, none the wiser.

  CHAPTER 63

  Vicinity of Pouilly-en-Auxois, France

  As previously arranged, Jim and Nora drove the white Transit van to an empty auto garage they had leased two days ago on the outskirts of Pouilly-en-Auxois. At the same time they rented a Range Rover Defender and parked the vehicle inside the garage in order to make it look like as though the property was in use.

  It was early morning as they swung the garage door open and pulled in, out of sight. Nothing around but freshly plowed farmers’ fields devoid of crops, and a tree line just down the road. They had been driving for a solid four and a half hours since they had stolen the paintings, their only break coming when they dropped the team off at their prearranged rental car. They would meet again in four to five days.

  Jim maneuvered the van so the trucks rear was facing the Range Rovers rear. “Let’s get the ones we identified out of the tubes and the fakes in their place,” he said. “First let me close the garage door.”

  YURI AND LANA HAD followed Jim and Nora from the museum, careful to maintain some distance, but not too careful to lose them. They now drove past the garage in their car as Jim was just lowering the garage door. They continued another 1,000 feet before they parked their car just out of site, in the relative safety of a tree line. From the shelter of their car, they observed the garage with a pair of binoculars.

  “How long do you want to stay here?” queried Lana.

  Yuri looked at her, a grin on his face. “Let’s give them a little more time before we approach.”

  IN A MATTER OF MINUTES they had exchanged 45 of the most expensive paintings with the second set of reproductions painted by Summers group. That left five original Old Masters they would use as bait for Dolan, all placed in one cardboard tube and marked with a thin black line. This on the chance that Dolan brought along an art expert with him. Of course, the five Old Masters provided to Dolan would be the ones worth the least amount of money. A small sacrifice to save the remaining forty-five paintings. The rest of the reproductions were rolled up, nine to a cardboard roll, and readied for Dolan.

  Jim patted the cardboard tubes. “Now you know why I wanted double reproductions of each painting,” he said, a broad smile on his face. “The high-end set for the museum and the low-end ones to fool Dolan.”

  “What can I say,” said Nora, “you area a genius.” The sarcasm in her voice evident.

  The originals were laying in a separate set of cardboard tubes in the cargo area. Time was of the essence with Dolan due any minute.

  Nora kissed Jim on the cheek before she climbed into the Range Rover. “Be careful when you meet Dolan. I don’t trust that bastard any more than you do.”

  “Don’t you worry about me,” he said, holding up a Glock 9mm, a gift from Benny, “you just get the real paintings to our first canal stop. I can handle Dolan and his crew.”

  “Love it when a plan comes together.”

  “And we get the bad guys in the end, right?”

  Jim walked over to the garage door, looking through its horizontal row of glass windows to make sure nobody was around. He waved to her as he pulled up the door.

  “Get the rest of the supplies and I will meet you in a few hours.”

  “THERE GOES A RANGE ROVER,” said Lana. “It looks like only the woman is driving.

  “We stay with the van and Jim Dieter,” replied Yuri. “Quick, duck down,” he said as the van turned towards them, driving by without slowing.

  They waited until Nora had driven by, then exited their car, weapons drawn, running up to the garages back wall.

  NO MORE THAN FIVE minutes had elapsed since Nora had departed when Jim heard a car approach, soon followed by two doors slamming shut.

  Okay, only two people, he said to himself. He placed the 9mm Glock at the small of his back as insurance. He never trusted Dolan, nor liked him.

  The garages side door opened as Dolan walked in with his goon. “Jim, I knew you could do it with a little proper motivation,” said Dolan, his bleached teeth shining brightly. He indicated for his goon to open the vans rear door.

  His Goon walked over to the van, opening its door. He unscrewed each container. Satisfied. “Looks like the paintings are here, boss,” said the Goon.

  Dolan kept his eye on Jim as he went for a peak himself. “Where’s that pretty little wife of yours?”

  “She’s getting some supplies,” he said. “But like I told you earlier driving in from the airport. We could only get fifty of the paintings. Any more would raise suspicion. Don’t worry, they are all there,” said Jim. “We have no need for your paintings.”

  “I’ll take fifty and still be very rich,” said Dolan as he randomly picke
d a tube, the one that just happened to have the thin black line, sliding out the paintings. He laid them on top of the other tubes. He pulled out an eyepiece and a pencil flashlight from his pocket, before leaning over the first Old Master on top, looking in detail at the artist’s signature. He then looked at the remaining four. He looked up after the last painting, smiling at Jim. “I’m satisfied. Your boy Eian, his slate is wiped clean.”

  Jim shook his head. “No, it’s not that easy. I want you to call your people back in Philly and tell them, now. A deal is a deal.”

  Dolan tossed the keys to the rental car to his Goon. “Load these tubes up and put them in the trunk of the car.”

  LANA WATCHED AS THE goon loaded the paintings in the rental car. “We follow Dolan now,” she said matter of factly.

  “No,” replied Yuri. “I follow Dolan. You follow Dieter. I think he still has something up his sleeve.”

  Lana was about to speak but Yuri raised his hand in order to silence her. “I’m aware you won’t have a car. But the town is only ½ a mile from here. You said Dieter was by the docks a few days ago. I am betting he will return to the docks. Unfortunately, you will have to walk to town.”

  He kissed her on the cheek before he ran off to their car, leaving her to tail Jim.

  On foot.

  DOLAN PULLED OUT HIS cell phone, in a matter of seconds he was connected to his moneyman back in Philly. “Wipe the slate clean on Eian. The man has paid his debts. All contracts rescinded on him. He also is not allowed to gamble in any of our establishments. None of them.” He hung up just as quick. “Satisfied?”

  “That’s all I needed. I particularly like the part about him not being allowed to gamble in any of your establishments. You better beat feet out of here.” Jim directed him towards the door.

  Dolan stopped him before they reached the side door. “You still owe me the airport information. The one where my buddy Eian is supposed to fly us home from,” he said.

  Jim smiled at him. “You are correct,” he said, handing him a piece of paper with the name and address of an obscure airport no more than 20 miles from where they stood. “There is a Gulfstream 550 waiting for you two. Eian is making the aircraft ready for a flight back to Philly as we speak.”

  “You have done well, Jim. If you ever want to make some extra cash, contact me.”

  “I’m semi-retired after this one, but thank-you just the same.”

  YURI HAD LEFT LANA at the garage and returned to the car waiting for Dolan to depart. He took a roundabout approach so Dolans goon would not see him. Now, from the safety of his car, he watched as Dolan and Jim said their good-byes. Dolan surprised him by turning away from town and proceeding back the way they had driven in.

  Yuri wasted no time in turning around his car and following his new prey.

  CHAPTER 64

  Six miles east of Dijon, France

  Dolan was driving the car, following the detailed instructions his Goon was reading off to him, the same ones Dieter had provided to them earlier.

  They now exited the main highway at Orgeux in order to drive the backroads to his destination: the small airport at Bretigny.

  Yuri followed them from ½-mile distance, careful not to spook his new prey. He had overheard Dolan and Dieter in the garage says something about an airport, so maybe that is where they were heading. He hoped so. An airport would present many opportunities to overtake Dolan and his Goon.

  The Goon pointed over to Dolans left. “There it is, boss,” he said matter of factly. “That’s the smallest airport I have ever seen.”

  Dolan turned in, now driving on a gravel road, a solitary hanger in the distance. “I guess we head for the hangar.”

  Yuri watched as Dolan turned in. Once the location and its solitary hangar presented itself, he immediately sensed opportunity. “Those paintings are coming home with me,” he said aloud to an empty car.

  CHAPTER 65

  In the aircraft hangar at Bretigny, Benny sat in a darkened office space located on the hangars second floor off to its left side. From his vantage point, he had a perfect view of the well-lit, Gulfstream 550, parked just below him. He also had a large window to the outside that allowed him to watch as a car approached from the main road.

  Benny watched as Dolan drove up in his car and parked outside the hangar, soon approaching from the hangars side door. Of course, Benny had amble warning of Dolans expected arrival time with Jim Dieter calling him 30 minutes ago.

  Dolan cautiously opened the hangar door peaking in. “The jet is in the hangar,” said Dolan to his Goon. They both walked in to an area bathed in light, the Gulfstream sitting before them.

  Inside the hangar, Dolan walked up to the plane, its door open, steps down. “This has got to be ours,” he said to the goon. “Anybody here?” he yelled.

  From inside the aircraft a female voice said “hello” in reply.

  Dolan walked up the steps and into the plane. “Eian, where are you?” he said looking into the cockpit.

  In the aft section of the eighteen person capacity jet sat a man and a woman dressed in pilots attire. “Good afternoon,” said the woman. “You must be, Mr. Dolan,” she said in an accent he couldn’t quite make out. “Slight change of plans regarding your friend, Eian. I am your pilot, Margaret Thistle, and this gentlemen is my co-pilot, Reese Ahlstrom.”

  YURI NOW APPROACHED the same side door to the hangar that Dolan and his goon had walked through. He opened the door and peaked in, seeing Dolan and his Goon up in the aircraft. He crept up to the plane’s nose, gun at the ready.

  He could hear the pilot and co-pilot introducing themselves.

  Yuri crouched under the aircrafts nose out of view, awaiting his prey.

  What he didn’t realize was Benny already noticed him from his second floor perch and fed the information to the co-pilot via his in-ear mike.

  The pilot led Dolan and the Goon back down the aircraft steps. “Let’s go over the route,” she said pointing to a table covered with two flight maps. The co-pilot stayed on the aircraft in accordance with Benny’s new instructions.

  Yuri stood up from his concealed position, his weapon pointed at the pilot, Dolan, and the Goon. “Stop where you are,” yelled Yuri as he walked around to the front of the table where the maps lay.

  “Who the hell are you?” yelled Dolan. His goon reached for his weapon, Yuri shot him in the head before he could extract it from his waistband, falling hard to the ground. Dolan swallowed hard as he looked to the pilot for help, then Yuri. “Calm down there, friend,” said Dolan. “May I sound too impertinent by asking who the hell you are?”

  “I work for the Russian government, Mr. Dolan,” replied Yuri, walking over to remove Dolans weapon from the small of his back. “These paintings are going to Russia, where they should have gone many years ago.”

  Dolan once again looked to the pilot for assistance. Sensing none, he continued his negotiation. “Let’s make a deal.” He was not about to let his prize get away, or at least what he perceived to be his father’s legacy. “There’s plenty for all of us.”

  After hearing the Russian announce himself, the co-pilot pulled an Uzi from his flight bag in the cockpit, making his way to the doorway. His pilot signaled to him with a nod. That was all he required. The co-pilot let loose with a quick burst that killed Yuri instantly. Dolan instinctively dove for the ground. After several seconds, he realized he was not the target.

  “You can get up now, Mr. Dolan,” said the pilot, she now also brandishing a gun.

  Dolan looked surprised. “What, everybody has weapons around here?”

  The copilot now approached Dolan, a pair of plastic tie wraps in his hands. “Why don’t we put these on?” he said.

  The pilot smiled at Dolan as the cuffs were placed about his wrists and feet. “We work for Mossad, Mr. Dolan,” she said a matter of factly. “Those paintings are not yours. They belong to a lot of different people, most of whom, if not all, are dead.”

  Satisfied they were, in
deed, alone, the pilots opened the hangar doors and drove Dolans car to the side of the aircraft. In a matter of ten minutes, they had transferred the paintings from Dolans car to the plane.

  Benny now made his appearance. “Good morning, Mr. Dolan,” he said. He walked around the aircraft’s nose to see Dolan sitting on the floor.

  “Who the hell are you?” he spat out.

  “Allow me to introduce myself. Benny Machaim. Head of Mossad. Maybe you have heard of us?”

  Dolan looked over to his dead Goon, then the Russian. “I guess I’m next to die?”

  The pilot shook her head as she walked over to Dolan, kneeling down in front of him. “No, you will not die,” she said. “Our boss,” she pointed over to Benny, “said to leave you with five of the paintings. He said not to be too greedy and leave you with those of least value.” She dropped a cardboard tube at his feet, one with a thin black line on its outside. “Have fun.”

  “You can’t leave me like this,” implored Dolan.

  Benny ignored him as walked up the steps onto the plane.

  The pilot nodded. “Your right,” she said before going into the plane and returning with a glass of water. “Drink this and you will rest for a bit. Just until we are gone.”

  “I’m not drinking that,” he blurted out. “That could be poison for all I know.”

  “You are not that lucky, Mr. Dolan. Drink it and you live, don’t, you die.” She now held a 9mm to his head.

  He begrudgingly nodded. He drank it slowly. In a matter of minutes, he was in a drug-induced sleep.

  The co-pilot laughed aloud as he readied the aircraft for take-off. “He is going to wake up with one hell of a headache.”

  “At least he is waking up,” said the pilot in reply.