“Well then, what is it that you would like to know?”
“Has anyone reviewed the security camera footage yet?” Evan asked.
“The police have it now,” she replied with a nod. “But the security staff has looked it over several times. I fear it may not be of much use. The area in which it was found is under construction and not heavily monitored.”
“Was there any note or anything that the press may not be aware of?” I asked.
“No,” she said with an apologetic look. “I’ve never seen anything like this before. Usually, when a previously undiscovered item turns up, it’s in someone’s attic or an abandoned storage facility. Even stolen art comes back into circulation with less mystery than this. Until you contacted me, I was ready to write this off as a hoax.”
I was about to ask why when Evan caught my eye. “We’ve got company,” he said quietly, but there was amusement in his tone.
I turned to where he was looking and paled when I recognized the man at the counter as Brian Kurtz, one of my current least favorite government agents. Though he was a subordinate of Agent Cervantes, who remained cooperative with the outreach even if she was withholding information from us, Kurtz seemed to cling to the xenophobic ideals of the ousted corrupt administration. His presence in Fort Worth was about as coincidental as produce at a farmers market.
“Is this the point where I should be asking questions?” Dr. Hayward asked, visibly shaken by our sudden shift from casual to on alert. In retrospect, Evan probably shouldn’t have mentioned that my safety was in jeopardy.
“At this point, I’d be surprised if you didn’t,” Evan replied. “If we’re all ready, I’ll be happy to answer any questions you have on the way over to the museum.”
Before we reached the parking lot, both Evan and my father had their phones out, no doubt ready to scan the rental car for possible tampering.
“Did you drive?” dad asked Dr. Hayward.
“No, the museum is only a few blocks away. We don’t get sunny October days in DC very often, Mr. Gillman,” she explained with a shy smile that seemed a little too flirtatious for my liking.
“It’s a nice enough day for a walk,” Evan said pleasantly, but his grim expression led me to believe that there was probably a good reason we were not getting in the car. More than likely, Kurtz planted a bug to listen to us, but considering that someone was out to kill me, I wasn’t ruling out the possibility of a cut brake line or even an explosive device. Then again, looking at the number of buildings around us made me nervous as well. There were plenty of places for a sniper to hide. Evan picked up on my worries and gave me a reassuring pat on the shoulder, whispering, “Relax,” under his breath as he walked past.
As we walked, Evan gave Dr. Hayward a heavily censored and somewhat colorful synopsis of what had transpired. “I’m going to have to insist that everything we tell you be kept in the strictest confidence, Dr. Hayward, not just for our safety, but for yours as well.”
“Do you feel this painting is linked to criminal activity?”
“Of that, I’m almost positive,” Evan replied.
Dr. Hayward glanced nervously at me. “Have you told them the nature of the piece that was found, and its history?”
“I am aware,” Evan answered for me. “Just as you must have realized that Lucy wasn’t making an offhanded guess when she contacted you. A few days ago, another of Arthur’s paintings turned up in New Orleans. Ours, unfortunately, did not turn up in museum condition.”
“It was damaged?” Dr. Hayward asked, somewhat skeptical, given that our painting hadn’t made the news.
“It had been torn, rather crudely, from its frame,” Evan explained, adding with some hesitation, “It was also wrapped around the torso of a recently murdered gang member.”
Dr. Hayward was visibly shaken by this news. She probably would have fainted if she knew that gang member was code for genetically modified vampire.
“Which is why the discovered art hasn’t been announced to the public,” my father added.
“You see, outwardly, EJC is a research facility specializing in medical, communication, and military technology,” Evan explained. “We hold many government contracts and provide service as well as information. Because we have access to some pretty sophisticated analytics and employ some of the world’s top geneticists, we are, on occasion, asked to assist in criminal investigations. This is also a service that I personally provide free of charge to our local law enforcement because, as you probably know, money is tight and violent crime is once again on the rise. When the painting was brought to our lab for analysis, Lucy recognized it.”
We had reached the museum, but Dr. Hayward stopped and turned a skeptical eye on me. “I thought you said you work in patent claims.”
“This would be the branching out part,” I said a little awkwardly, sliding a look over at Evan to see if he was going to bail me out or leave me hanging.
“Don’t let her modesty fool you,” Evan said with a wink. “Lucy has an uncanny eye for detail that I and the rest of my team have grown to rely on when something has us stumped and we need a fresh pair of eyes.”
“Or an art history lesson,” I added with a tight smile.
“Exactly. It was this history that raised the red flags amongst my team,” Evan continued. “You see, there are several particularly violent and powerful gangs in New Orleans and recently, Lucy had uncovered information needed to put away the leader of one of the gangs. The body found with the painting was a member of the rival gang. We aren’t positive, but at the moment, we are being cautious and assuming that the painting was meant as a threat against her.”
“Okay, wait a minute,” Dr. Hayward said with an incredulous look. “What kind of gangs do you have in New Orleans? Granted, everything I know about gangs comes from movies, but sending a warning by way of an obscure art piece sounds more like something from The Godfather than some street gang.”
“That’s because the gangs Evan is describing aren’t street gangs,” my father explained. I had to admit, if they were ad-libbing this, they were playing off each other rather well. “The mafia is probably a closer comparison and art smuggling is one of their lesser crimes. This group is an international crime organization and very dangerous.”
I didn't think telling Dr. Hayward this was a good idea, but obviously, Evan and my father had some sort of a plan. I looked to Evan for some clue as to what to do next, but he was staring across the street. Not surprisingly, Kurtz had followed and was sitting in his car. What was surprising was that Kurtz wasn't paying any attention to us. His mouth was moving, likely on the phone with someone, but his eyes were trained on a couple on the opposite side of the street, who appeared to be watching us. They were too far away to see clearly, but I had a gut feeling they were mods. It was like being in the middle of some weird standoff.
“What do you think is going on?” I asked Evan in a low whisper. My father was still talking to Dr. Hayward, so luckily she didn’t notice anything amiss.
"Get them inside," he said to me, barely above a whisper. "I'm going to see what's going on with our friends here." I nodded slightly before turning to my dad with a smile.
"Sorry to interrupt, but could we head in? I burn easily and I hadn't anticipated the Texas sun to be so strong this time of year."
"Of course, Doctor?"
Dr. Hayward smiled. "Follow me, and please, call me Farrah." I raised my eyebrows at that, which earned me a bemused shrug from dad.
As much as I would have loved to stop and look at all of the art, and there was much to see, I was on a mission, and quite frankly, I was worried about Evan. Dr. Hayward took us first to the site where the painting was found. From the heavy machinery to the stacks of steel construction beams, it was pretty easy to see why the museum cameras didn’t pick up anything suspicious.
“Should we wait for Evan before going to see the painting?” Dr. Hayward asked.
“I’m sure he’ll call if he can’t find us,”
I said, hoping that he was still safe.
We went through a side door into a storage area and down a hallway to a locked room that had a security guard posted. “These are the guests I had told you about,” Dr. Hayward explained. “If Evan Conroy asks, will you have someone escort him up here?”
“I certainly will, Doctor,” the guard said with a nod and unlocked the door to allow us in.
The immediate difference between this painting and ours was that this one was still in its original frame and had not been damaged in any way. It depicted Lucy in a claw foot tub, her back to us, leaning over the far side. Again, Arthur used the mirror to show what the seemingly innocent picture was hiding. In this case, it was a suicide scene. Lucy’s wrists were slashed and a razor hung limply from her fingers over a pool of blood on the floor.
“Disturbing, isn’t it? I don’t even like being in the same room as it,” Dr. Hayward commented with a shudder.
“Do you know what this one was called?” I asked, almost terrified of the answer.
“She Shall Be Free,” she replied. “It is believed to be the fourth in the series. The first three were saved, then this one. Which one do you have?”
“The last one,” I replied quietly.
“Oh.” Dr. Hayward’s one word response was heavy with worry. Obviously, she knew the title of the painting and now realized exactly what kind of a threat I was dealing with. “There were thirteen in total. I wonder if they are going to show up as well. I mean… at museums,” she added hastily. “I didn’t mean…”
I wondered the same thing. Despite Evan’s original misgivings, it was obvious that this one had been sent to lure me away from New Orleans. The presence of government agents and suspicious mods in Texas made that clear. But I did have to wonder if this wasn’t just another game being played against us.
I moved closer to the painting, studying it with the hopes that perhaps there was some subtle clue, some hint as to what, or who, was messing with us. But unlike the bulk of Arthur’s work, this one was pretty straightforward. A thin line of almost iridescent silver running through the pooled blood caught my eye. It was almost imperceptible, and as I followed its twisting path, it suddenly bowed away from the painting completely. I realized with some excitement that I wasn’t looking at detail work, but a human hair that had become stuck in the oil paint.
I glanced over my shoulder. Dad and Dr. (call me Farrah) Hayward were discussing the remaining paintings and paying no attention to me. For once, I was grateful that I had inherited my Italian mother’s spontaneous facial hair condition. As deftly as possible, I reached into my purse and pulled out a small pair of tweezers that I always kept on me for stray hair emergencies. With a gentle tug, the hair pulled away. I carefully folded it into a brochure that I had absentmindedly picked up by the entrance.
I realized though, that the hair could have belonged to anyone. After all, it had been found outdoors and Dr. Hayward’s own blonde locks were peppered with a few silvery strands. Still, it was something.
“I think we should go find Evan,” I said, interrupting their conversation. They had strayed so far from the topic of the painting that they weren’t even trying to hide the fact that they were flirting. I found myself irrationally irritated by this. My mother had been dead for over fifteen years and Dr. Hayward was a widow, so it wasn’t as if either of them were doing anything wrong, but it still bothered me for some reason.
Outside, Evan and Agent Kurtz were waiting for us and they weren't alone. I recognized two more agents that we had previously worked with. Curiously, I saw no sign of the strange vamps that were hanging out earlier.
"My apologies for abandoning you," Evan said smoothly. "But there was a good reason. Dr. Hayward, allow me to introduce Agent Kurtz, who assures me that an ACT agent will be here this afternoon to take a look at the painting. I want to assure you that despite what we discussed earlier, neither you nor the museum’s staff are in danger. Nevertheless, agents Carr and Hellison will stay here and accompany the ACT agent." He nodded to two agents that I recognized as GTAC members. I found it interesting and somewhat disturbing that Evan was evasively introducing them in a way that suggested they were normal FBI agents. Almost as disturbing was the fact that Agent Kurtz was smiling.
“I appreciate that, Mr. Conroy. Lucy,” Dr. Hayward added, turning to me. “It was wonderful to see you again. I do hope that the next time will be under better circumstances.”
“You as well,” I replied. “If you happen to hear about any of the other paintings, please let us know.”
“And don’t hesitate to call us if you see anything suspicious,” my father added, slipping her his personal cell phone number with a smile. I bit my tongue and turned away, feigning obliviousness.
“As much as I’d have liked to have seen the painting for myself, our flight leaves in a little less than two hours. Unfortunately, the rental car is having some mechanical issues, but Agent Kurtz has kindly offered to give us a ride,” Evan informed us.
I was somewhat apprehensive. We had come to Fort Worth with the knowledge that someone was after me, all of us, really, and Evan wanted us to get into a car with the most suspicious person we’ve run into so far. Well, there were the two mods, but I didn’t see them hanging around. Once we were on our way, Evan didn’t waste any time explaining what dad and I had missed.
“The two vamps we noticed earlier are in custody and on their way back to Louisiana as we speak.”
“What vampires?” my father asked. “Did I miss something?”
“You were talking with Farrah,” I said with a slightly icy edge. “So what happened? Were they… you know?” I slid a sideways glance at Kurtz, who hadn’t spoken yet.
“After you? Yes and no,” Kurtz answered, giving me a strange look in the rearview mirror. “We received an anonymous tip not too long ago to keep an eye on the Fort Worth museum district. Cervantes sent us out here three days ago. Two days ago, these two mods start hanging around and then the painting showed up. It’s certainly possible that they were the ones who delivered it, but I didn’t see them do it. In fact, I haven’t seen them do much of anything at all until today. Dr. Hayward left the museum, and they followed, so I followed them. That’s when you three showed up. As soon as you went into the restaurant, they started messing with the car.”
“They put a tracker on it,” Evan explained. “A crude one that our scanners picked up on right away. The strange thing is, they weren’t armed with anything more than a couple of knives and some sedatives. Whoever they were, they weren’t the hit squad, but they were clearly out to grab someone.”
“I’m not sure I follow,” I said.
“I think whoever planted the painting and sent the anonymous tip was expecting a little more cooperation between the government and us,” Evan explained. “The fact that you stumbled upon the article was, as I suspected, a mere coincidence, but in the end, it got the same result. Had Kurtz here informed us of what he had discovered, the outcome would have likely been the same.”
“If I had known another painting was discovered in New Orleans then I might have mentioned something,” Kurtz said defensively. “I won’t pretend that there aren’t trust issues between our organizations, or that either party has a good reason to keep secrets, but clearly, someone has been taking full advantage of this fact, playing us against each other. I don’t like playing the part of a pawn in someone else’s game.”
“Nor do I,” Evan added. “And when we get back to town, I think it would be a good idea to arrange a nice sit down with all parties involved to clear up some of the mutual distrust.”
Something told me that had a snowball’s chance in hell of happening, but I kept my thoughts to myself.
Chapter 5
Due to our flight being delayed, we didn’t get back to New Orleans until early evening. I had hoped to see Andre when I got back, but he was taking Ben to a Saints game with Miles and they had already left for the stadium by the time the plane landed. It wasn’t unt
il we were safely back at headquarters, and away from the prying eyes of the government, that I mentioned the hair I had found.
“Good eye,” Evan said with a whistle. “I’ll run this up to Abe and have him check it out immediately.”
“Call me as soon as you know something,” I told him. “I’m going to check in at the safe house and see how we did the other night.”
“You’ll be the first to know,” he promised. “Be careful out there, Lucy. We aren’t even close to being out of danger yet.”
Somehow, that seemed like an understatement.
As I crossed Canal, I noticed a familiar head of white blonde hair coming out of the Walgreens on the corner and waved. She didn’t notice so I sped up and called out.
“Hey Cynda!”
“Huh? Oh! L-Lucy, hi,” she stammered, fumbling to stuff a plastic shopping bag into her backpack.
Everything about her body language seemed suspicious and for a moment, my stomach sank at the thought that she might have just shoplifted something from the store. Not that Cynda had any need to steal, but it wasn’t unusual for teenagers to go through a phase. Hell, there were girls at my private high school who made it a game to shoplift something every time they went to the mall and all of them were very well off. But as her hands shook, and the contents of the bag spilled out across the sidewalk, the reason for Cynda’s embarrassment became clear. Shoplifting, I could have handled. However, the pink and blue cardboard box lying on the sidewalk was something I wasn’t prepared for.
“It’s not… I mean…” she mumbled, red faced as she bent and stuffed her purchase back into her bag. “Oh god, Lucy, I…” she trailed off. I held up my hand.
“Not here,” I said with what I hoped was a disarming smile. “Come on, I’ll buy you a cup of coffee and we can talk.”
“I don’t know…” she mumbled.
“We’ll go to Royal Blend,” I clarified. Normally, we went to G2, which was Ida’s reboot of Gilly’s that was staffed with mods from the outreach, but we weren’t likely to get any privacy there. “It’s not crowded this time of day and I won’t tell Ida we were cheating on her.”
The Eyes of the Sun: The Complete Trilogy Page 67
