Time and Again

by Brian D. Meeks

  “Is that true?”

  Patrick nodded. He was at a loss for something helpful to say.

  “I see you are a man of few words. To be truthful, we know you didn’t steal it, we know exactly what you are…a fence.”

  He found his voice. “Begging your pardon, but I am not ‘A Fence’, I am ‘The Fence’.” Proverbs 16:18 suddenly came to mind, ‘Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall’, and Patrick realized that he should be a little more modest. He wasn’t sure if he would get too many more chances, though.

  The man across them seemed neither amused nor offended. “I really don’t care if you are the greatest fence to have ever lived. We have this situation today, because you are trying to sell something which is not yours, or your clients. Which brings us to my two concerns, who is your client, and where is our box?”

  Patrick and Katarina had agreed to be honest about how the box was temporarily misplaced, because of the untimely death of Randy. Patrick went into great detail about his arrangement with Randy, explaining why he trusted him, and the advantages to hiding valuable works of art this way. He wanted to make sure that their captors understood that he was not making up a story and to do that, he needed to explain his reasoning. If he had simply said, “I don’t have it, it is hidden, and I don’t know where it is.” They wouldn’t have believed him, or worse, they would have tried to beat it out of him.

  The old Greek man listened. When the story was done he sat quietly for a moment. “I am not a violent man. I just wish to have returned what rightfully belongs to me and my associates. But you can see where we have a problem. Though your story seems quite convincing, it doesn’t help me achieve my goals. Let us start with something you can tell me. Who is your client?”

  Patrick didn’t like the idea of telling him, but the situation was looking rather bleak. “To be honest, I am not sure I could pronounce it, but if you give me a pencil, I will write it down for you.”

  A large man appeared from out of the darkness with a piece of paper and a pencil. He had a machine gun looped around his neck and looked like he might enjoy getting to use it. Patrick wrote down the name and slid it across the table to their host. The man with the beard read the name. He did not look happy.

  The sound of anxious footsteps was all that could be heard. Someone whispered in Greek. Katarina guessed it was Greek for, “Who is it?” The man in the chair said something back in a harsh tone. The walking around ceased and there was silence.

  Katarina sensing her moment said, “I believe I have an idea, which will help you locate ‘The Eye’, but I have a condition.”

  She was wrong about it being her moment. He exploded, “A condition!” He stood up and disappeared from the light, returning with a pistol. He pointed it at her, then waved the gun to his left and fired. Patrick’s hand went to the right side of his head and cupped his bleeding ear. “You are not in a position to be making demands!” He then disappeared from the lit area again, and they could hear his heavy footsteps behind them.

  Katarina looked over at Patrick. His expression was a mixture of shock and horror. The blood was trickling between his fingers. She felt a hand come over top of the leather chair and pull her chin upward. All she could see was the barrel of the gun pressed between her eyes and a giant meaty hand holding the trigger.

  “Where is it?” he said, in a voice of tempered rage.

  “I don’t know. But I believe my idea is the only way you'll find it. I still have one condition.”

  The man in the beard’s hand began to shake and the accompanying silence was the scariest thing anyone in the room had ever not heard. The sound of the hammer being lowered eased the tension ever so slightly. The man’s voice, having returned to a calm state, said something in his native tongue. A few men came forward and grabbed Patrick and took him away.

  He sat back down. “Everyone, leave!”

  The room was emptied and the sound of a heavy metal door closing, was followed by quiet. Katarina, with the nerves of a fighter ace, stared into the man’s eyes. “I know a man who knows where the first hiding place was and I believe he may have some ideas about where it is now.”

  “And you will tell me who this man is, if I agree to your…’One Condition’…what is that condition?”

  “I want to ask the ‘Eye’ one question.’

  This made the man smile. She was a true believer. He leaned back in his chair and folded his hands together under his chin. “So that is your condition. Nothing about letting the two of you go?”

  “I believed you when you said you were not a violent man.”

  “Do you still believe that?” He said, looking at the chair where Patrick had been sitting.

  “I do. You have been searching for ‘The Eye’ for many years. Once you have it, I don’t see any reason for you to kill us, as you haven’t committed a crime.”

  “And what of kidnapping?”

  She smiled, “Let’s just say that I have done some things, in my past, which make ‘going to the police’, a bad idea. And you know of Patrick’s line of work. I think I can speak for both of us, when I say, we won’t be pressing charges.”

  This seemed to satisfy the man. “I agree. What is his name?”

  “While I believe you are not a violent man, I am not willing to put him at risk. Get me a phone and I'll call him and set it all up. He should be able to find it in a day or two.”

  The man stood up and nodded. He walked out of the room. She sat there alone until Patrick returned. They had bandaged up his ear and he sat back down. “I assume he liked your idea. And what is your condition?”

  “It is personal.”

  “It got me shot!”

  “I don’t care.”

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  At 4:00 a.m., in the city that never sleeps, one wouldn’t notice much difference between the hour before or the one after. Henry noticed Bobby’s office light was on. This almost struck him as strange, were it not for ‘strange’ being Bobby’s normal. He knocked. From what seemed like a long ways away, tiny feet could be heard scampering towards the door.

  Bobby didn’t show any surprise at seeing Henry. “Hello Henry, come to answer your phone, have you?”

  “My phone?”

  “Yes, it started ringing a few hours ago, and has gone off every thirty minutes since.”

  “I wonder who could be calling?” He said, though he was sure he knew.

  Bobby looked at his watch, “We best stop talking as it is about to ring…”

  It was easy to hear in the quiet office hall, and Henry walked briskly to the door. He had to pick the lock, as he hadn’t gotten a key from Celine, yet. He grabbed the phone on Celine’s desk.

  “Hey”

  “Its Katarina.”

  “I haven’t seen you all day. I thought you might call and make me take you to dinner or something.”

  “I would love a bit of ‘or something’, but I am in trouble.”

  Henry sat down in Celine’s chair and leaned back. It seemed like the misery of the last week, was behind him, and he had his mind back. He let her comment hang there for a moment and then said, “I figured as much. Hot art can burn one’s fingers.”

  “I need your help finding something. It's life and death.”

  “That is a little bit cliché, don’t you think?”

  A man’s voice came on the phone. “Do you know where the Eye of God is hidden?”

  “I like direct, but only when I know who is asking the question.”

  “I am a determined man, who only wants what is rightfully his.”

  “We all have wants.”

  The Greek man was intrigued by the comment. “And what are your wants? Mr….”

  Henry had noticed that Katarina hadn’t used his name. Every other time they had spoken on the phone she always said ‘Henry’ in a certain way. This time though, straight to the point. He decided there might be a reason. “I want answers to a few questions, that is all.”

&nb
sp; “You may ask me anything you like about the Eye of God, if it induces you to return it to me.”

  “Let’s be clear. I don’t have it, but I know where it may be found. As for my questions, it is the woman who called that has the answers.”

  The Greek man looked at Katarina, not sure where this was going, “You don’t want money?”

  “No. I want her to answer my questions, but I'll need your help.”

  “I am listening.”

  Henry talked and the Greek man said nothing. The call ended with the Greek man slamming the phone down just as Henry had instructed.

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  Arthur and Hans had spent the entire night looking for the Falcon. All they had to go on, was the make and model of car which had been in front of them. They assumed that the people who shot the driver had left with the Falcon and Patrick. At around 5:00 a.m., they gave up and stopped to eat at a diner.

  There were quite a few people getting their day started, so they spoke in hushed tones. Hans ate a slice of toast while shaking his head, “I don’t know.”

  “Who were those guys?” Arthur asked while stirring his coffee.

  “I couldn’t even hazard a guess. I know this, if someone has taken Patrick, then they are after ‘The Eye’. So, I think we can assume the auction won’t take place today and likely won’t happen at all.”

  “What I want to know is how they found him?”

  “No idea.”

  “Could it have been one of the other collectors?”

  “No, they are all gutless old men. This was too clean a snatch and grab; it was professional.” Hans almost sounded impressed.

  “It beats me. I wonder…”

  Hans looked up while eating his eggs.

  “You think it might have been the guys it was taken from?”

  Hans thought about this, “That may be a good guess. So we are looking for some Greeks.”

  Arthur shrugged, “But does it matter?”

  “It may not. Our plan is pretty well shot.”

  “It seems our window of opportunity has closed. I dread the thought of going back to Andre, even if he is ‘new and improved’.”

  Hans nodded, “I know how you feel, my friend. To get so close to finally being free of Dr. Schaeffer, and now, we won’t even have our cut from the Falcon.”

  “Huh, hadn’t thought about that, but you’re right. The extra money was nice.”

  They sat lamenting their lost lives of leisure, which had been driving them for so long. The other patrons continued to come and go, but they stayed, drinking coffee and feeling sorry for themselves. The waitress was starting to give them dirty looks, but they ignored her. Hans, not one to give up, finally had had enough.

  “Let’s be logical.” Hans said leaning back and changing his tone.

  “Let’s. What are you thinking?”

  “If we find the Falcon, we are fine. We have lost some time, but there will be other auctions. You could work your way into the house of another collector and leave Garneau behind.”

  Arthur liked the sound, “True.”

  “We get back in the game, set up our original plan with Dr. Schaeffer and someone else, and make our big score.”

  Hans had a way of finding clarity in a heavy fog of despair. Arthur felt better, “You are right, we have lost only time and effort. Nobody knows who the Falcon is, or that we work with her. She will continue to collect and pay us for our information and help. It will be easier than when we started, because you are already trusted by Dr. Schaeffer.”

  “Speaking of which, I am expected at his place. His nerves will be on edge, not knowing when the auction is to take place. If any of Patrick’s minions shows up with word, I'll be there to get the latest. I can make some calls, looking for the Greeks.”

  “That sounds like a plan. I better be off to see what the new and improved, though still disgusting, Andre has in store for me today. It will likely involve orphans and puppies, unless I miss my guess. I'll try not to kill him or myself. If you hear anything, call me, I’ll make an excuse to get away. We aren’t beat yet, my friend.”

  They paid and walked out. Waiting to cross the street, Hans had an idea. It was a long shot but it was low risk and he was sure he could make Dr. Schaeffer think it was his idea. The game wasn’t over; it was just the start of the fourth quarter.

  Chapter Sixty

  She could now see the faintest outline of light around the blacked out windows. Katarina sat in her chair, feet up on the table, with a blanket, staring at a small pin light coming through one of the panes. She had watched it change from black to a faint glow and now a stream of orange light. Sleep had been impossible to come by, so she just thought.

  She thought about her life and her quest some, but mostly she thought about Henry. She remembered how he was when they met. Always the gentleman, opening doors, paying for dinner, and letting her choose which movie. He never made a pass or gave any indication how he might feel, but on occasion, she would catch how he looked at her, usually in a reflection. She knew and played dumb, and now, these many years later, after a couple nights in his bed, wondered why.

  Katarina was worried. The call hadn’t gone like she planned. He seemed to really know where it was, but his voice was cold. Faced with the real possibility that her final moments may be spent sitting in this chair, she considered her stained soul, and the truth of who she had become was unavoidable. She had used Henry, because she could. It was this way with all the men from her past, but they deserved it, they had souls blacker than hers, they had their agendas and she used that against them. Revenge is a sweet dish, best served cold they say. She thought of how she had used Henry’s affection for her, to blind him to the truth. It had worked to keep him in the dark. The taste of the truth was foul.

  The reaction from her Greek captor, so completely caught her off guard that she almost tried to run. Her instincts had told her it would be fatal, and she listened. Still it was a mystery what they had said, and since he stormed out of the room, she had not heard a word.

  Patrick stretched, waking from a fitful sleep, “It must be morning. I wonder if it will be our last?” He said with a smile, which seemed oddly optimistic, considering.

  “I fear it might be.”

  “Now don’t be that way, love, I'm sure that a clever lad like Henry will ride to our rescue on his mighty steed. Or maybe he won’t, who knows? But I could really use a cup of coffee.”

  She looked at him. It seemed that all traces of Father Patrick were gone. She wondered if this were the real man behind the collar.

  “It may be my last day, but it is my first day without that choker around my neck, and I feel great.”

  “Slept well did you?”

  “Not well, but I slept. I had a dream of a lassie back in Dublin. I haven’t seen her since I was a wee one.” His voice had changed and now his accent was coming through. “She had raven black hair and a serious look that could put the fear of the Almighty in one’s heart. If you had the stones to get past the serious though, you were in for a treat. It was good to see her again.”

  Katarina wanted to be disgusted with his flippant attitude, but he was too damn charming, and the worst part was she knew he wasn’t even trying.

  They heard the heavy door open and two large men brought in plates with some donuts and a couple of cups of coffee. They said it was from their boss, apologized for the meager fair, and then left. They didn’t’ sound sincere, they sounded annoyed.

  “I think the help is getting antsy,” Katarina observed.

  Patrick grabbed a donut.

  “I have been trying to figure out what made our host so mad.”

  “Perhaps your boy Henry told him to piss off, he was keeping ‘The Eye’ for himself.”

  She hadn’t considered this angle. It hurt her pride and now she was mad. “You don’t know him, he isn’t like us, and he wouldn’t keep it knowing it would…”

  “What?...get us killed? Sure he would, everyone has a pri
ce. His just happens to be north of 5 million somewhere, I would guess. So how much were you willing to bid?”

  “Why don’t you shut up?” She had had enough of Patrick. His laughter at her anger just made her more furious.

  Patrick took another donut.

  Katarina sat in silence, ignoring the occasional comments from the other chair. She went back to thinking about Henry. She went back to when they met. It helped her feel a little better and made her feel much worse.

  When the heavy footsteps of their Greek host stormed into the room, they both sat up straight. He picked up the phone from the table by his chair and slammed the phone down in front of Katarina, and said, “Tell your friend I will pay him the money!” He then started muttering something loudly in Greek and left the room. The two men who brought the donuts came in and grabbed Patrick and dragged him out of the room, spilling his coffee.

  She stared at the phone almost afraid to dial.

  Chapter Sixty-One

  The phone rang and Henry answered. He was expecting the call, but not this call. He recognized Han’s voice.

  “Mr. Wood, I wasn’t sure when you would be in the office today.”

  “Hello, Hans.”

  “Dr. Schaeffer was pleased with how it went yesterday.”

  “I thought it went well, too.”

  “There is a problem though.”

  Henry was not sure where this was going and didn’t want to stay on the line too long. He looked at his watch, 7:01.

  “Yes?”

  “I would like to see you in person, if you wouldn’t mind.”

  “I am actually pretty busy this morning…”

  “It’s urgent.”

  Henry considered saying no, but his gut told him it might be worth hearing him out.

  “How long will it take you to get here?”

  “Not long.”

  “I'll put on the coffee.”

  ***

  The Greek man yelled, “Well?”

  Katarina didn’t like the sound of her answer in her head, but it was true. “It was busy.”