by Estelle Ryan
“But we need to bring him in whether he wants to surrender or not.” Manny’s expression conveyed a warning. “We can’t pussyfoot around Emad. He’s a national, if not international, threat.”
Alain’s shoulders dropped. “I know. Just try. That’s all I ask.”
Francine put her laptop on the table and plugged Alain’s phone into her computer. “This will only take a minute or two.”
It took three minutes. As the seconds ticked by, I noticed his distress increasing. The moment Francine finished cloning his phone, he took it, made his excuses and left.
“Um? Genevieve?” Tim stood in the doorway and looked nervously from me to Manny and back. He lifted the cordless phone in his hand. “I have an Ivan Fradkov on the line for you.”
Both my hands flew to my sternum, my head shaking from side to side uncontrollably. I didn’t want to speak to Fradkov. Why did he want to speak to me? I took three deep breaths and concentrated on stilling my head.
“What the hell?” Manny jumped up and grabbed the phone. “Can he hear us?”
Tim took a step back. “No, sir.”
“Supermodel.”
“Already on it.” Francine was working furiously on her laptop.
“Timmy, tell me everything this man said.” Manny shook the phone at Tim.
“Um... He said that Genevieve would want to speak to him. At first I told him that she no longer works here, but he insisted. When he gave his name, I recognised it. So I thought I’d come and ask what to do.”
Manny turned to me. “Doc?”
It took a lot of effort not to shake my head again. I crossed my arms tightly over my chest. “I don’t want to speak to him.”
“We might learn something, Doc.” His gentle tone surprised me. Did I look as frightened as I felt?
I uncrossed my arms and pulled my shoulders back. “Okay.”
Manny looked at Francine. “You got this?”
“On it.”
He held out the phone. “Keep him on the line as long as possible.”
“Just press the green button.” Tim took another step back when we looked at him. “That will connect you and put you on speakerphone.”
I took another calming breath, determined to use all the knowledge I’d accumulated over the years to get as much from the next few minutes. I pressed the green button. “Hello?”
“Doctor Genevieve Lenard.” Fradkov’s voice was deep, his speech relaxed and with a sophisticated British accent. “What a pleasure to finally speak to you.”
“What do you want?” I ignored Manny’s scowl.
“Just a quick chat.” His words were so quiet that I leaned a bit closer to the phone. “I wanted to formally introduce myself and also tell you that I’m really looking forward to sparring with you.”
“I don’t spar.” I’d never even entered a boxing ring.
“Maybe not.” He inhaled deeply and sighed as if content. “But don’t you think it will be fun for the two of us, two such great minds, to go against each other?”
“No.”
Manny was waving his hands in the air, then walked away from me shaking his head.
Fradkov’s laugh was soft. He sounded genuinely amused. “Well, I think it will be the most fun I’ve had in years. Make sure that you sleep with one eye open, Doctor Genevieve Lenard. Those people always around you might be in danger.”
“What do...” I didn’t continue. Fradkov had ended the call.
“What the fuck was that?” Vinnie put his fists on his hips. “He’s phoning you to fucking threaten us?”
“Supermodel?” Manny’s voice was tight.
She closed her eyes and shook her head. “He rerouted the call. I traced it to Iceland, but I doubt I would’ve found his location. It kept bouncing from one country to the next.”
“Bloody hellfire.” Manny swung around and glared at me. “What do you make of this, Doc?”
I swallowed a few times to get rid of the horrid tension strangling me. When I spoke, my voice croaked. I cleared my throat and tried again. “He’s playing a game. This is his move to intimidate us. To scare us.”
And it worked. The fear that had gripped me when he’d threatened my friends would not let go. His gentle, cultured tone had unnerved me in a manner that surprised me.
I ignored Manny, Colin and Vinnie discussing heightened security measures and focused all my energy on pushing the conversation and the fear to the back of my mind. I would not give Fradkov power over my thoughts. I would not allow this phone call to disconcert me, to distract me from investigating this case and finding him.
“Then that’s that. We’ll all be more careful until we catch this bastard.” Manny got up and waved with his hand towards the door. “Let’s go home.”
“It’s far too early.” I glanced at my watch, then looked again. “It’s almost six o’clock.”
“Yes, missy. Time to go home. All of this can wait until tomorrow morning.” Manny turned to Vinnie. “I’m hungry. I hope you’re making enough food today.”
My stomach rumbled at the mention of food, reminding me that I’d never finished my lunch. Manny was right. The painting with the hidden Fibonacci sequence would still be here tomorrow. The investigation into Fradkov would still be here tomorrow. I got up just as Vinnie pushed away from the door frame.
“As if I ever don’t make enough food.” Vinnie crossed his arms. “And who invited you anyway, old man?”
“She did.” Manny pointed his thumb at me. “She and supermodel.”
Vinnie glared at Francine as she closed her laptop. “Just keep your grubby hands away from my spices and my food.”
Chapter FOUR
I opened my bedroom door leading to the living area and was greeted by noise. This had become the norm in my life. Vinnie was in the kitchen cooking, shouting at Francine to put the turmeric down and leave his kitchen. Legally, it was my kitchen. Yet I couldn’t remember the last time I’d prepared any food there. Vinnie had taken complete control of that part of my apartment.
When we’d arrived home, I’d gone straight to my bathroom and had a longer and hotter than usual shower. I wished it could’ve removed the remnants of fear after Fradkov’s phone call. It hadn’t. I had scrubbed every centimetre of my body even though Otto’s blood had only splattered on my hands and forearms. Wearing jeans and a light sweater, I now felt like my skin once again belonged to me.
“Doc G!” Nikki pushed herself up from one of the two sofas and rushed towards me as fast as she could. Had it been eight months ago, she would’ve run, but her protruding stomach prevented her from moving too fast. She stopped in front of me, her stomach almost touching mine, and stared at me. “Are you okay?”
Nikki had entered my life in a manner similar to Colin, Vinnie and the others. Unexpectedly. Her father had been a criminal who’d been killed during one of our cases. A sequence of events had led to her sharing the connected apartment with Vinnie and becoming an important part of my life.
“I’m unharmed.” I glanced down at her stomach. “How’s your back today?”
“Fine. Today it’s not my back, it’s my feet. They’re huge.” She leaned to one side and awkwardly lifted one foot. “Look!”
I raised one eyebrow as I studied her narrow feet with metallic green toenails. “They look the same size as usual.”
She put her foot down. “Well, they feel huge. I feel huge.”
“You’re beautiful, little punk.” Vinnie put the dishcloth on the kitchen counter and walked to us. “How many times do I need to tell you that?”
“Until I no longer feel like I’m a waddling hippo.” She swallowed her last word and her eyes widened. Then her expression softened. She grabbed my hand and placed it on the left side of her pregnant belly. “He’s moving. Feel.”
The first time Nikki had pushed my hand to her stomach, I’d gone into a shutdown. Feeling the growing life move under my hand had overwhelmed my senses so immediately, there had been no fighting the darkness. That had
been four months and sixteen days ago. After that, Nikki and I had worked together until I’d been comfortable, even curious, feeling her baby boy move around her uterus.
A pointy body part pushed against my hand. It pulled back and pushed again, moving a few centimetres to the centre of Nikki’s abdomen. Nikki lifted her hand from mine. She knew her touch was distressing. She also knew I would keep my hand on the soft t-shirt stretched over her stomach. “Eric has been very busy today. I think it might be the pastry I ate after breakfast. I asked the big punk to make a boring bolognese tonight. Last time we had that, my little guy really liked it.”
Vinnie laughed. “I would love to think that my nephew loves my bolognese, but it wasn’t he who really liked it. You had a third helping.”
“I’m eating for two!”
I didn’t correct her. Eric was moving again, but slower, less jerky. Vinnie and Nikki continued to banter, but my attention was on the little person growing in Nikki’s stomach. I’d read twenty-seven books on pregnancy, childbirth and the first year of an infant’s life. But I didn’t feel prepared for the change this little boy was about to introduce to my life.
It had been a difficult three weeks when Nikki had struggled with the decision whether to keep the baby or give it up for adoption or terminate the pregnancy. I’d had my opinion and had freely shared it with her, but had wanted her to make the decision on her own. Those three weeks had been difficult for everyone. Manny had asked me three to six times a day if Nikki had made her decision and Vinnie had been withdrawn until Nikki had told us what she’d decided.
Despite her youth and her vivacious character, Nikki was mature beyond her years. Growing up with a father who’d been a notorious criminal, well-respected and feared amongst his peers, she’d learned very early the value of carefully considering one’s actions and words. Everyone, me included, had been relieved and proud of her when she’d decided to not only go through with the pregnancy, but also keep the baby.
I hadn’t been surprised when Nikki had told us that she’d decided to name her baby after her father, using his second name since his first name was too closely connected to his criminal history. She’d always known about his illegal activities and she’d always loved him. His death had been hard for her, but it had also been the reason she was now part of this circle of friends who had become like family.
“This happens every time, Doc G.” Nikki’s smile was gentle. “Eric is going bonkers inside and the moment you touch him, he calms down.”
“I’m not touching him. I’m touching you.” I lifted my hand from her stomach and put it behind my back.
“Oh, you’re touching that little man, Jen-girl.” Vinnie put his hand where mine was. “You even look all gooey when you do it.”
“What does that mean?”
Colin got up from the sofa to stand next to me. “It means that your expression changes when you feel Eric move under your hand, love.”
I looked at him in alarm. “I’m no longer afraid. Surely you can see it. My expression is not one of discomfort.”
Colin pulled me closer to him and hugged me. “Oh, we all know that, Jenny. When Vinnie says gooey, he means that you look like that.”
I followed Colin’s pointed index finger to look at Vinnie’s face. The harsh lines on his face had softened, his eyes were relaxed and slightly closed, the corners of his mouth lifted. The depth of his affection was unmistakeable. “That’s ‘gooey’?”
“Yes.”
“I look like that?”
“Just prettier.”
I continued studying Vinnie’s face until he snorted. He kissed Nikki on her head and returned to the kitchen. She put both her hands over her stomach. “I think he’s gone to sleep. Thanks, Doc G.”
I nodded. I didn’t know what else to do or say.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” She tilted her head, concern pulling at the corners of her eyes. “Francine told me what happened. That’s like really brutal.”
“I’ve told you I’m unharmed. If you need a more detailed explanation of my emotional well-being, you should ask a better question.”
“Well, ouch.” Her smile belied the expression she’d started using of late. “Okay, let me think. Hmm.” She cleared her throat. “Doc G, are you processing the assassination sufficiently? Are you emotionally handling this?”
I didn’t understand why Colin laughed softly or why Nikki’s micro-expressions bore evidence of humour. I ignored that and nodded my approval of her carefully thought-out question. I considered my answer. “It was a most disconcerting experience, but after my shower I’m feeling much more in control. I’ve processed most of what has happened and now have a strong desire to understand the assassination as well as the painting.”
“What painting?”
“Food’s ready!” Vinnie carried a large serving dish to the table, his floral oven mitts contrasting with his muscular build. “Come, people. I didn’t cook this just for myself.”
We moved to the table and the only topic discussed for the next ten minutes was Vinnie’s food and its effect on Eric. I’d learned not to get involved in these nonsensical discussions. Wasting time on improbable and most often impossible scenarios was part of light-hearted social interaction. It was hard enough for me not to dispute every point made about the culinary expertise of a foetus. It would be impossible for me to partake in this conversation and not get involved in arguing my factual points until everyone relented.
Instead of listening to the content of their inane conversation, I watched my friends, observing their body language. The orbicularis oculi muscles contracted the corners of Francine’s eyes and her lips twitched with suppressed humour. She teased Vinnie every chance she got, most often with outrageous suggestions of spice additions to his family recipes. Without fail, Vinnie responded with threats to her health and well-being while Manny appeared bored.
Manny’s micro-expressions in reaction to a particularly strongly-worded rebuff from Vinnie or taunt from Francine were proof that he was indeed interested in the conversation and enjoying it immensely. He no longer tried to hide the subtle glances he sent Nikki, especially her stomach. In the beginning, Manny had been very gruff about the pregnancy. After I’d confronted him about the fear visible on his face whenever that topic arose, he’d made an effort to be more expressive about his concern and love for Nikki.
Nikki’s response to that confrontation had been to throw her arms around Manny and tell him repeatedly that she loved him too. He’d grunted and huffed, but had hugged her back and I’d seen pride, concern and affection on his face.
Vinnie’s cooking was delicious as usual and everyone teased Nikki when she took another helping. Even though she joked about eating for two, her appetite had not changed much from before the pregnancy. Early on, she’d joined fitness classes for pregnant women, but had changed to yoga in her sixth month. Not only was she working hard to look after the baby growing in her, she had worked even harder to finish her art degree.
The last few years had brought many changes in my life. What had once been a routine, predictable existence was now filled with unpredictable chaos. This was the main reason for the cognitive dissonance I frequently experienced about my friends who’d come to play such an important role in my life.
It was sometimes hard to reconcile that so much time had passed since Nikki had moved in with us. Two weeks ago, she’d received the results from her exams and now had a BA degree. She’d decided to take the next year off to spend with Eric as well as decide what her next step in her career would be. I had watched her study and had been envious of the focus she’d had. I missed the academic and cerebral challenges that had accompanied my own studies.
“Right, Doc G?” Nikki bumped me with her shoulder. When I didn’t respond immediately, she sighed. “You weren’t listening to anything we said, were you? Ooh, no, wait. Please don’t answer. You’re just going to tell me, again, that I shouldn’t eat any fish.”
“I showed you the e
vidence from numerous sources that only fish high in mercury should be avoided.” I leaned away from her. “You’re teasing.”
She winked at me, then looked at Colin. “What painting were you talking about earlier?”
“A very, very, very bad attempt at a reproduction.” Colin told her briefly about the painting Alain was convinced had come from Emad.
In the beginning I had balked at involving Nikki in cases. Technically, she wasn’t allowed to know anything about the crimes we investigated, but too many times our cases had drawn her in and put her life in danger. A few times she had even given valuable insight into a case.
Colin’s explanation was interrupted by my front door flying open.
“I’m here! I’m here!” Doctor Roxanne Ferreira rushed into the apartment, then ran back to close and lock the door behind her. She dropped her handbag on the sofa and hurried to the table. “I tried. Really! But the head of oncology wanted to talk to me about some experimental treatments. And then Doctor Héroult wanted to know if I was going to the conference in Brussels next week.” She grabbed Vinnie’s face between her hands and gave him a smacking kiss on the lips. “I’m really, really, really sorry.” She sat down next to him and looked at us, her smile bright. “Hi, everyone! I’m so hungry. Ooh! Bolognese.” She reached for the serving plate. “I know I interrupted something. Sorry about that too. I’m just going to shut up now and eat. Please continue.”
Francine had once described Roxy as a whirlwind. The last minute certainly made me agree with that analogy. Especially the disordered state of her curly hair. At one point during the day, she must have attempted to put her hair in a simple braid. Countless strands had escaped and were framing her face and it looked like the hairband she’d used needed only one more head movement to dislodge completely.
Despite her incessant tardiness and messy hair, I liked her. I especially liked that she was the reason for the gentle smile softening Vinnie’s features. He took the serving plate from her and handed her the salad bowl. “Good thing I doubled the recipe. There’s enough for second helpings for you and third helpings for the punk.”
