The Uccello Connection (Genevieve Lenard, #10)

by Estelle Ryan

  Francine moved her shoulders and rolled her head as if to regain composure, then swiped her tablet screen. “Aleksei Volyntsev would’ve been fifty-two tomorrow. He was born and educated in St. Petersburg. His family was extremely well-connected during the USSR era. After the Iron Curtain came down, they moved all their interests into the aviation industry and have become not only disgustingly rich, but also very powerful.

  “I haven’t found anything that raised red flags either on Aleksei or his family. Aleksei was a diplomat for sixteen years and made friends everywhere he went. It sounds like everyone loved working with him. The US Secretary of State described him as the only Russian she could take at his word. I’ve tried to dig up dirt on him, but couldn’t find anything. All he did was build good relationships and take Russian artists and performers to every country he was stationed in.”

  “So Nikolai was right about his desire to show the softer and more beautiful side of Russia,” Colin said.

  I stared at Francine. Her distress was becoming a distraction. “Did you find any connection to Fradkov or Emad?”

  “Nothing, but I set up a search, so maybe it will come up with something.”

  In an uncommon show of affection, Manny put his hand over Francine’s. “Tell them what you told me, supermodel.”

  “About what?” Francine looked up from her tablet. “Daniel?”

  “What about Daniel?” Vinnie crossed his arms. “He’s not been answering my SMSes.”

  The downturned corners of Francine’s mouth and the anxiety around her eyes brought a tightening to my chest. She pushed her food away. “Daniel is missing.”

  The food I had swallowed pushed back up my oesophagus. I hunched my shoulders at the surprising adrenaline burst entering my veins. I had become used to experiencing this with many aspects of Nikki’s life. Having the young and often vulnerable woman enter my life had countless times caused this rush of fear flooding my system.

  I had known Daniel for the last four years and had not considered him a close friend. Vinnie, Francine and Manny were my close friends. Nikki was someone I deeply cared for and Phillip was the only person I now considered a father figure in my life. It had taken a long time for me to admit that what I was feeling for Colin was love. But Daniel? I had only ever considered him an acquaintance. At best. It would appear I had been wrong.

  I cleared my throat to get rid of the suffocating feeling. “What do you mean missing?”

  “I mean neither Pink nor I can get hold of him.” She lifted her tablet. “I’m running searches on all Daniel’s devices in case they go online. His phone, tablet and computer are all turned off. I can’t even turn his phone on remotely, which tells me that either he’s removed his phone’s battery or there is no phone or internet reception where he is.”

  “How long has he been missing?” The words came out a pitch higher than I’d intended.

  “Four hours.”

  Manny straightened. “You didn’t tell me that. Four hours is nothing, supermodel. Maybe he’s watching a movie or he just wants some away time from everyone always meddling.”

  “Pah! I don’t meddle, handsome. I protect.” Francine’s response didn’t hold the same energy as usual. “And if you would quit interrupting me, I’ll have time to tell the whole story.”

  “Could you please do so factually and in chronological order?” I found her tendency to interrupt herself with irrelevant information most annoying.

  “Okay, okay. Daniel was supposed to check in with Pink almost five hours ago.”

  “That’s not chronological.” I leaned forward. “Pink is not the type of person to overreact to a situation. What is causing him to be so concerned about Daniel’s wellbeing? Where is Daniel? Why would Pink need to reach him?”

  “Fine. I’ll speak in bullet points.” She rolled her eyes and started counting off her fingers. “Daniel left Strasbourg at seven this morning on a flight to Paris. From there he caught a flight to Minsk.”

  I jerked. “Minsk? What’s he doing in Minsk?”

  “He’s on an exchange with the Belarussian equivalent of GIPN.” She wrinkled her nose. “They wanted expert training.”

  Vinnie crossed his arms. “Daniel mentioned something like that, but that was weeks ago. I thought nothing came of it.”

  “Well, Pink said that Daniel is there to train with their team and their team leader is here to train with Pink and the others.” The concern on her face intensified. “His plane was supposed to land in Minsk four hours ago. Daniel told Pink he was going to turn his phone on the moment they landed in case Pink needed him for something. He hasn’t switched on his phone and he hasn’t been in contact. I also can’t find any evidence that his plane has landed.”

  Manny turned to me. “Doc? Is this all connected?”

  “I have no idea. We don’t have enough data. But I’m not prone to believing in coincidences.”

  “What coincidences?” Vinnie asked.

  “I’ve only told you about the art exhibition.” Colin’s eyes were wide. “I haven’t yet told you where.”

  “In Belarus?” Vinnie’s eyebrows rose high on his forehead.

  “Give me all you’ve got.” Francine tapped her manicured nail on the table. “If I have more information, I might be more successful tracking Daniel.”

  Colin told them about the official opening of the Renaissance exhibition in Belarus. “And to top it off, the man who organised a lot of the art and had a small VIP exhibition here is a good friend of the Belarussian president.”

  “This has to be connected.” Francine’s eyes lost their focus. “I wonder if... hmm... maybe I could...”

  “Supermodel!”

  “Huh? Oh, sorry. I’m just thinking about how I can use this to narrow the search for Daniel.” She looked at me. “Tell me more about the politics. How do you think Russia, Belarus and France can be connected with Daniel being missing?”

  “I have no idea how the politics between these three countries could have any link to Daniel being unreachable.” I thought about an article I’d read in one of the journals that had been delivered. “Even though Belarus gained their independence in 1989, they still have very close ties to Russia. Since they’re neighbours, Russia is to date still Belarus’ biggest and most important political and economic partner. That was only one of the reasons the EU didn’t want to admit Belarus into the union.

  “They have an unfortunate history of human rights abuses and interference in democratic elections. And this happened recently as well. Belarus accused the Polish ethnic minorities of trying to cause a similar revolution to Ukraine’s Orange Revolution in 2004. They targeted Polish people living in Ukraine, including closing down a Polish-language newspaper. In 2005, the EU declared its concern about this situation and France expressed solidarity with Poland a day later. Ukraine also frowned upon Belarus’ handling of the Polish minority.”

  “Holy Mary.” Manny rubbed his hand over his face. “I hate politics.”

  “And politicians.” Vinnie tilted his head. “Maybe not all of them. President Godard and his wife are cool.”

  The elevator doors pinged and Phillip walked into the team room. “Afternoon, all. I hope you finished eating.”

  Another rush of adrenaline entered my bloodstream when I noticed the tension around his eyes. “What happened?”

  “Alain is in my office. He got another painting.” He looked around the table. “You looked worried before I came in. What’s going on?”

  “Daniel is missing.” I got up, then sat back down. Confusion warred in my mind. On the one hand, I felt an almost painful need to go to my viewing room and do whatever I could to find Daniel. It would be a futile use of time since Francine was much better equipped and skilled to run legal and illegal searches.

  On the other hand, I wanted to see this second painting and solve the mystery behind these artworks. Why was Emad sending them to his father? Was he merely playing a game with his dad or was there a more malevolent motivation behind it
all? I didn’t know what to do.

  “This is what we’ll do.” Manny got up. “Supermodel, you keep looking for Daniel. Do whatever you need to. Get the big guy to help you.”

  “With computers?” Vinnie snorted, but I saw his frustration.

  Manny’s look of impatience was genuine. “Quit pretending you’re only good with your fists. You have many connections. Get on your bloody phone and start finding out things.”

  Vinnie’s eyes widened, the lines around his eyes relaxing marginally. “On it, old man.”

  “You two.” Manny pointed at Colin and me. “With me. We’re going to see what Emad sent.”

  Colin grabbed my tablet and three minutes later we were in the large conference room in Rousseau & Rousseau next door. A second painting was on an easel next to the first painting Emad had sent Alain. Colin nodded a greeting towards Alain and walked straight to the painting.

  My attention was focused on Alain. Distress was clearly visible on his face. The professional and emotional toll of his sons’ actions had changed him from a dynamic and life-loving middle-aged gentleman to a tired old man. I stepped closer to where he was standing, wringing his hands. “When did you receive the painting?”

  “Around one o’clock. I had just finished lunch when my doorbell rang and the courier handed me that.” He pointed accusingly at the painting. He stared at his shaking index finger, then dropped his arm and sat down slowly. “I just want this to end. I don’t know how much more of this I can bear. How can one father have gone so very wrong with both his children? Was I misguided in thinking that I was providing my children with a safe, stable environment, teaching them to respect the lives of those rich and poor? Did I spoil them by sending them to private schools? What did I do wrong?”

  Phillip sat down next to Alain and poured tea from the setting on the table. “This is not a question that has an answer, Alain. Surely you know that it is pointless to go down the what-if road.”

  “It’s human nature to try to understand that which doesn’t fit into our perceived frame of normal.” I shook my head when Phillip lifted the teapot, offering to pour me tea. “It’s been clear from the onset that your sons did not function within the framework of societal norms. Like the vast majority of people, their behaviour came from a confluence of influences, not excluding their own psychological profiles and psychiatric makeup.”

  “Jenny, come look here.” Colin didn’t turn away from the painting, only reaching with his hand behind him as if I would take it.

  I didn’t. I did, however, join him at the easels. “Do you know which painting this is?”

  “Oh, yes.” He straightened. “This is Uccello’s Scene from the Life of the Holy Hermits.”

  “Huh.” Manny shrugged. “Does this painting have any specific meaning?”

  “Beyond possibly holding more Fibonacci numbers that we can enter into that app, none I can think of.” Colin touched his chin. “Uccello painted these saints who lived as hermits in the Egyptian desert as belonging to a religious order that was more common in Florence. The rocky landscape with caves and forests and animals was quite unusual for that time.”

  Alain put his teacup down. “Phillip explained that you entered those numbers into the app and that is why I received the second painting.”

  “Hmm.” Manny pushed his hands in his trouser pockets. “Doc, do you see the Fibrochino numbers?”

  “Fibonacci.” I ignored Colin’s soft laugh and turned my attention to the painting.

  “I think I got two numbers.” Alain got up to stand next to me. He pointed at the different places on the canvas. “Top centre where the saint is on his knees praying, and there on the pulpit in the bottom right.”

  I moved away from him, closer to Colin. “You are correct. Those are well-hidden numerals.”

  “I can see an ‘X’ and ‘V’ here.” Colin pointed at the praying saint in the bottom left.

  “Show me the original.” I waited for Colin to turn my tablet on and find the painting. He handed it to me and I looked at the colourful masterpiece. It was a busy painting with a lot of people in what seemed like different forms of religious practice. It was beautiful not only in its composition, but also in the amount of information conveyed.

  The differences between Uccello’s original and the attempted copy on the easel were vast. It was clear that Emad hadn’t even tried to copy the style or brush-strokes or specific colours. The saints were painted with the skill of a child and the building in the top left corner resembled the simple line-drawings found in kindergarten art.

  I tilted my head and mentally called up the overture of Mozart’s Die Zauberflöte. Even replaying it in my mind, I always found it to be both exciting and helpful for my focus. I followed the Fibonacci spiral on the painting and inspected those parts of the painting closely. When the overture reached its end, I saw the number that had been eluding me and pointed at one of the priests sitting around the altar. “There.”

  “Are these Fibonacci numbers?” Manny asked.

  “Yes.” I frowned. “But they are in the wrong order. This is incorrect. It should follow the sequence.”

  “Could it be that the numbers should be entered into the app in that order? Not the true sequence?” Colin leaned closer to the painting. “That means his codes are quite simplistic.”

  “What are the numbers, Doc?” Manny lifted his index finger to halt my answer. “In the sequence they appear here?”

  “Thirty-four, three, eight, fifty-five, one.”

  Manny looked at the security camera above the door. “Do your thing, supermodel.”

  “This might not be the correct order for the app.” I found it difficult to agree with Colin’s suggestion. Surely Emad would not make it this easy.

  Manny’s phone rang. He raised an eyebrow and gave me a look that I’d come to know as telling me that I’d been wrong. He answered his phone and put it on the conference table. “You’re on speakerphone.”

  “Okey-dokey. Hello, Alain.”

  Alain leaned towards the phone. “Hello, Francine.”

  “So I ran the numbers through and what do you know. Bing, bang, boom, we got to another level of the app.”

  “Should I be expecting another painting?” Alain’s raised upper eyelids, tensed lips and open mouth revealed the fear he experienced just thinking about this.

  “Yes.” Francine cleared her throat. “I’m sorry for all of this, Alain.”

  “So am I, Francine. So am I.”

  From experience I knew that Francine had not apologised, but had sympathised with Alain’s situation. He had apologised. I did not blame him for his sons’ actions. It had been their choice to become involved in criminal activities that had led to Claude’s death and Emad currently being a fugitive.

  Once again, I looked at the two paintings. Why was Emad sending them to his father? Was he yearning for a connection with his dad? Was he playing a nefarious game? If so, what was the outcome he was aiming for? Were the numbers themselves important or was their only purpose to take us to the next clue? Where were all the clues leading us to? What would happen if Alain received another painting and entering the Fibonacci code we found on it triggered something—a bomb, an event, something catastrophic?

  “Um, guys?” Francine’s tone held a tension I recognised. It only had that pitch and tightness when adrenaline had entered her system.

  “What?” Manny asked.

  “You better get up here right now.” She took a deep breath. “I’ve got Pink on video call and you’ll want to hear this.”

  Manny got up and took his phone. “We’re on our way.”

  “I’ll take care of Alain.” To the untrained eye, Phillip was relaxed and confident. But I saw his deep concern. “Please keep me updated.”

  I hurried after Manny, focusing on my breathing. The tightness in my chest was preventing me from inhaling deeply enough to relax the tension in my muscles. For a brief moment, I wanted to go in the opposite direction. I didn’t want to he
ar the bad news I was about to face in the team room.

  Chapter EIGHT

  “What the hell do you mean the plane is missing?” The masseter muscles in Manny’s jaw tensed, his fists on his hips. “A plane doesn’t just disappear into thin air. Why isn’t this on the news? Does the airline even know that the plane is missing?”

  “Give him time to finish, handsome.” Francine put her hand on Manny’s shoulder. We were in my viewing room. Colin, Manny and I were sitting on the three chairs in front of the fifteen monitors. Francine was standing behind Manny and Vinnie was leaning against the doorframe.

  The moment Pink had given us the news, I had frozen. My mouth didn’t want to form any of the words rushing through my mind. Francine was right. Pink had only told us that Daniel’s plane had gone off radar when Vinnie had let off a long and very strongly-worded sentence. Manny had bombarded Pink with questions. Me? I’d pushed Mozart’s Clarinet Concerto in A major into my mind to drive away the darkness that was threatening to overtake my mind and leave me in a complete shutdown.

  Pink swallowed a few times, his face pale. “I phoned the airline. I’d checked Daniel’s flight to Minsk before I even asked for Francine’s help. They told us that the plane was on schedule and there was nothing wrong.”

  I pointed at his face, words still not forming in my mouth. Colin took my hand in his and rubbed it as if I was cold. “Jenny’s seeing something on your face, Pink. What?”

  “I don’t know.” Pink blinked a few times. “Maybe the fact that I’m monumentally pissed off with myself for not following my gut. When they told me everything was fine and that we shouldn’t look for terrorist attacks under every bush, I knew something was up. I had a feeling and I didn’t go with it. I thought I was overreacting. I checked three of the apps that follow all flights. Two of them showed Daniel’s flight, but one didn’t. It’s not impossible to manipulate that information to look like the plane is there. Or not there. I don’t know what to believe.”

  I shook my head. Colin squeezed my hand. “I agree with Jenny. You’re not a drama queen, Pink. You don’t overreact.”