The Chase

by Vanessa Fewings

  “I promise.”

  We left the car and walked the rest of the way, and he pushed open a tall iron gate that squeaked on its hinges. We continued along a pathway covered with overgrown weeds and out-of-control plants. Either side of us were lines of half-sunken graves and most of them lost to the will of overgrown foliage.

  Ahead of us rose tall Roman pillars on the side of a derelict church, appearing through the low hanging trees as if nature itself guarded this site. As we neared, I saw the powerful imagery of Christ crucified on the cross that was carved in stone and faded by time.

  With my fingers interlocked with his we walked through the large double doorway and went on in, my gaze sweeping along the abandoned church. Above, the roof was so damaged it was partly open to the sky. Rotting remnants of what had once been pews were staged either side.

  I jumped when a bird hopped on dry leaves to our left. More rustling here and there gave the wildlife away. The crisp night air surrounded us, and it felt naturally reverent as though an authentic spirituality had found its way in.

  Tobias pulled me into him and gave me a reassuring hug. “This church was built in 1879.” His face was full of wonder. “This is what I love about British history. There’s so much to learn from it.” He pulled me along to the front of what had once been an aisle. “Look at the craftsmanship.”

  Overhead in a carved arch of stone was an intricate design that would have been worthy of the greatest of cathedrals with its complex layers of delicate flowers.

  “Pagan?” I asked softly.

  “Influenced by, yes.” He pointed high toward the carved Roman faces set in the ceiling. “There’s your first clue.”

  “Are you a member of a secret society?” I said. “We’re going to dance around a central flame, praying to an ancient god.”

  “Preferably naked.” He lowered his gaze to my lips. “I’ll watch.”

  I gave his arm a tap. “You go first. I’ll sit over there and enjoy the performance.”

  He laughed and shook his head, amused, but then his expression turned to sadness. “What you see here is about to be lost and all in the name of progress. This land is worth more than its heritage. It’s going to be demolished. A new skyscraper is set to begin construction in less than a month.”

  A cold burst of air washed over me.

  “Did you buy this land?” My voice broke with emotion.

  “No. It was sold before I heard about it.”

  A dread welled and I realized this experience was going to haunt my dreams. “It’s our last chance to see it?”

  “This is why we’re here.” He took my hand again and led me farther down the aisle and I wondered if the path we took was through the old rectory. The walls were crumbling.

  Descending into the murkiness we circled the stone steps lit up with modern lanterns that led the way. The chill prickled my forearms. Graffiti was scribbled on the walls in ink or sprayed with paint in a show of disrespectful plundering.

  “The sacredness is still here,” he whispered. “Do you feel it?”

  “Yes, but there’s a sadness too. I don’t want it to be destroyed.”

  “There’s always hope. We have that.” He gestured the reason we were here was through that large wooden door ahead. “This is how we change the world. Through them.”

  He nudged the door open and I peered in at the sight ahead that was lit brightly with more lanterns—

  Teenagers, twenty or so of them, and all of them dressed in work overalls and wearing hard hats. They sat here and there and they were working alongside ten adults. They were excavating.

  “Who are they?” I whispered.

  Tobias picked up a spare hard hat from a side table and placed it on my head. He took one for himself.

  He tied my chin strap and whispered, “They’re college students. The children of refugees. Don’t worry, they only spend an hour down here one evening a week. But it’s enough to stir their passion for conservation.”

  “Orphans?”

  “Most of them. Many of their parents didn’t make it. The system got overrun and we had to make special concessions to house all of them. If we send them back...” He gave a shrug.

  “You own a charity?”

  “Yes.”

  I was too speechless to answer.

  He gave my arm a nudge. “Want a closer look at what we’re working on?”

  I shook my head as though coming out of a dream. “Yes.”

  When the teenagers recognized him, they dropped what they were doing, rose to their feet and ran to him. All of them reached out to wrap their arms around him. Their smiles hid the pain of what they’d gone through.

  I stepped aside to give them more room and watched Tobias interact with them with such kindness and patience that I had to squeeze back tears. He knew each of their names and turned around to include everyone. Their teachers came over to shake Tobias’s hand and they chatted about their current progress.

  He introduced me to everyone, and I knew I was witnessing a unique glimpse into his world. I understood why he kept it out of the headlines. That was his way of protecting these vulnerable children.

  One of the male teenagers grabbed Tobias’s hand and led him across the dirt floor to the back of the room. He wanted to show him what he’d accomplished and pointed to where he’d dusted away a Roman wall painting.

  Standing back a little, I took it the magnificence of the ancient mural running along the entire wall. The painting depicting an ancient coliseum.

  This was a peek into the profoundness that was London’s history, a rich and never-ending insight into its past, stretching back all the way to 47 AD, when the Roman Empire owned the city and eventually turned it into the golden age of trade.

  This priceless mural of Roman soldiers fighting in a coliseum, with its faded earth colors, was to be saved in a last-ditch effort to honor one of history’s greatest times.

  Tobias accepted the dry brush he was handed by the boy and set about joining him to dust away more debris. They chatted away about this and that and I overheard Tobias playfully arguing about football, and telling him that Liverpool was going to kick Manchester United’s butt this weekend in Saturday’s game.

  Tobias glanced back at me and threw a wide grin.

  This felt like the most precious of all the moments I’d ever spent with him. There were no flashy gadgets for him to hide behind, no alpha drama to protect him, this was the most authentic I’d ever seen him.

  And he looked so happy.

  Looking down at my arms there was already a fine layer of dust covering my skin and yet I didn’t care.

  “This is where I’d come from.” Tobias peered up at me. “The night I met you at The Otillie.”

  It made sense now why he’d showered and changed in the staff room that evening and why he’d not wanted to tell me this before.

  I now knew the privilege of him trusting me with this.

  He patted the teen on his hard hat and rose to stand beside me again. “We’re going to keep this wall intact and transport it to The Otillie. This is what the new wing is for. It will go on display in the early year.”

  “This is incredible.”

  And he’d just gone from mystery man to superhero status.

  He leaned into me and whispered, “The sacrifice their parents made to get them to safety and ensure them a better life, it won’t be wasted.”

  “I understand why you keep this so private.”

  He gestured to the others. “Their safety is my priority.”

  “That’s why you keep out of the press too?”

  “This, this is what’s important.” He raised his brush for me to take it. “Art is about chipping away until we get to the truth. When the truth protects others it should never be squandered.”
/>   “I’m wowed.”

  “Oh, I can do better.” He broke into a smile and yelled, “Who wants fish and chips?” The roar of happiness echoed around us.

  Tobias beamed at me. “Right there, that’s my superpower.”

  28

  I spent the following day working in my office at The Tiriani building while waiting for Abby, Shane and Adley to return. They’d had the uncomfortable task of visiting the Jaeger family to deliver the news their insurance claim was on hold until the provenance of their Munch could be further explored.

  I had my own crises that needed airing with the team; that scandalous appearance of St. Joan wasn’t going away.

  By 6:00 p.m. I’d organized my office in preparation to head home, resigned to discussing my personal scandal tomorrow.

  “We’ve got him!” Abby leaned on my office doorjamb and gave a victory wave.

  “They arrested him?” I pushed myself to my feet. “Icon?”

  “Ten minutes ago a security guard stakeout caught a glimpse of a man on the roof of the Tate Modern. They’d upped their security after the hit at Christie’s. Private sector. He’s drilling through the roof. The Met are closing in now.”

  “That’s brilliant.”

  “I know, right?”

  “Are they armed?” These words sent a slither of fear up my spine.

  My intuition caused my mouth to go dry, and I reached for a bottle of sparkling water so I wouldn’t have to look at her.

  “Yes,” she said. “I hope the fucker messes up and gets himself shot.”

  My throat tightened.

  “I’ll keep you updated.” She turned on her heels and headed back to her office.

  “I appreciate that,” I called after her.

  Trembling, I poured a few drops of water onto my bonsai tree and the delicate branches bounced as the water struck its leaves. Busying the creative part of my brain I ran through what I knew. Icon was supersmart, a man who understood technology and easily grasped the latest in security measures, so our man would no doubt love techie devices.

  Was his reign as one of the world’s most infamous thieves about to come to an end?

  Don’t.

  Ignoring my dark musing, I recalled every interaction I’d ever had with Tobias, that first meeting at The Otillie. Where had he rushed off to later that night? Coincidentally the same evening that Munch was stolen. His financial status would provide him with the means to easily travel and his status could ensure his ability to jump on his private jet and fly to any destination on a whim.

  Depending where the “job” was.

  The suspect would know a lot about art and Tobias owned The Wilder, and was immersed in every aspect of this world.

  The culprit wouldn’t need to be greedy because he was already superrich. Perhaps the thrill of the heist was his main motive? His life would be complex and he’d no doubt have a busy schedule that would allow for an alibi when needed. He’d most certainly have contacts within high society so that when those elite invitations came along he’d have access into the private homes of the megarich.

  Like an invitation to a secret society’s orgy that would provide a reason to visit one of the grandest private collections of Goya on the planet.

  Logan had never admitted she was Ruby. Maybe I’d read her wrong.

  My hands tremored as I nudged the small plant’s pot back a little. I was being absurd; I mean last night I’d spent a wonderful evening in that old church on Copperfield Street with Tobias. He was a good man. A kind man. Yet so many questions remained unanswered.

  The evening Inspector Ford had visited my apartment I’d locked my door after I’d let Sergeant Mitchel in. Not only had Tobias accessed my flat, he’d turned up at the same time the police were there to question me.

  I’d also been his alibi during the theft at Christie’s.

  My heart thundered as I remembered his unusual knowledge of Francisco Goya’s La Maja Desnuda being hidden behind a fake painting in a state room at Blandford Palace.

  Nausea welled in my stomach as I reached for my phone.

  What should I do? Warn him? No, that was ridiculous.

  Dangerous, even.

  You’ve been burning the candle at both ends; your mind’s rambling.

  But caressing my brow, I knew.

  There was no use denying the truth anymore.

  My hand reached for my phone and dialed his number—

  “Hey,” Tobias answered. “How’s my girl?”

  “Fine.” Steadying my voice I stared at the bonsai tree. “I’m watering your gift.”

  “You’re still at the office?”

  “Yes. Where are you?”

  He hesitated. “You’re breaking up.”

  “Can I see you?”

  “Can you hear me?”

  I pressed my ear against the phone for ambient clues.

  “Everything okay?” He came through faintly.

  “Something came up that I need to talk to you about.”

  “Is it urgent?”

  “Well—”

  “Let me take you out to dinner later.”

  My heart pounded as I sensed him pulling away.

  “You didn’t say where you were?” I realized how that sounded. “I’m just interested.”

  He wasn’t exactly going to tell me he was sawing through a roof. I was lucky he’d answered.

  “Confession,” he said softly.

  “Oh?”

  “I don’t want to be here. I wish I was with you.”

  “Then be with me.”

  They’re coming for you, Tobias, get out of there.

  “I’m actually at the Coach and Horses.”

  “Covent Garden?”

  “Yes. It’s karaoke night. Office tradition. I always end up paying their bar bill. Sucker that I am.”

  My throat tightened at his lie but it was one that could easily be validated.

  “It’s a crappy line. I’ll call you back.”

  He killed the call and left me staring at my phone in stunned silence.

  Grabbing my phone and handbag, I flew out of there.

  I reapplied fresh makeup in the cab on my way to the Coach and Horses, and let down my hair so the spiraling curls hid the fact I was staking him out if he really was there—

  And not breaking into the Tate.

  My heart was going to bloody well explode and I teetered on the edge of having it smashed to smithereens. If anything happened to him I’d be to blame for not seeing this earlier. Not talking him out of it or warning the staff at Huntly Pierre.

  This brazenness proved how far I’d fallen for him.

  Still, there was uncertainty.

  The pub was packed with wall-to-wall drinkers and the atmosphere crackled with the joy of friends hanging out.

  I doubted I’d ever feel happiness again as I scanned the crowd.

  A Beatles song blared from the karaoke stage, “Hey Jude,” though the man’s singing was terrible. The scent of booze wafted from the bar and the aroma of rich fried food came from the kitchen.

  My phone vibrated in my hand and I stared down at the screen.

  It was from Abby: We have him.

  Heart pounding, I hurried into a corner and texted back, Do you have a name?

  Abby: Not yet.

  My fingers flew across the keys. Was he hurt? I backspaced, realizing how that sounded. Are they taking him to the Met?

  Abby: Yes. More soon. Go celebrate. We’re getting our art back!

  I replied, Amazing Job. I managed that at least, wanting to roll into a ball and rock the rest of my life away.

  Taking him right to the Metropolitan Police Station proved he wasn’t injured at least. Han
ds shaking, I tucked my phone into my pocket, trying to see straight.

  Should I go there?

  My gaze locked on him across the bar and my brain exploded as I cringed against my insanity.

  Thank God.

  My gasp was muffled by the music.

  Tobias sat in the middle of a crowded table at the far end of the bar. He was holding a bottle of Samuel Smith Imperial Stout, and was laughing at someone’s joke. Logan sat beside him snuggled up close, her smile wide and her face flushed. She sipped from a tall glass of something fizzy.

  This was what it felt to find my way to a well in a desert.

  Tobias threw his friends a dashing smile as he shared a joke with them—

  He looked extra gorgeous tonight, as though he’d gone out of his way to taunt me. That deep blue shirt, ripped blue jeans and black waistcoat emphasizing his knack for making casual look classy. His hair was extra messy as though he’d run his hand through it.

  Lead ran through my veins as I realized I couldn’t run up to him and wrap my arms around his neck and nuzzle in possessively.

  Oh no, now I looked like the crazy stalker girlfriend.

  Making my way to the bar all the way at the back, I eased through the mass of bodies, grateful for the camouflage.

  I squeezed to the front and signaled to the barman. “Kamikaze, please.”

  And make it bloody quick, I mused darkly.

  The young man with eighties’ hair beamed at me and then got to work on my drink.

  I needed to get the hell out of here and sleep away this horrible day.

  The shot glass placed in front of me contained vodka, triple sec and lime and I threw it back with abandon, my mouth gaping at the burn.

  Damn, I needed that.

  Another one was placed it front of me and questioningly I stared at the barman.

  “Happy hour,” he shouted. “Two for one.”

  Damn it.

  Why not, my nerves were raw from believing my boyfriend was Icon and I hated myself for doubting him.

  I downed the glass.

  Heading for the back door, I skirted the tables and headed to the restroom.

  I worked on my hair and used the mirror, which swayed a bit too much, trying to smooth wayward strands into my curls.