2 The Dante Connection (4 page)

“But you promised that you’d stay with me,” Francine said.

“I promised that I would stay until you felt safe.” I took a moment to study her body language. “You’re feeling safe. I’m leaving.”

“You’re a coward, Jenny.” Colin shook his head. “One of the bravest people I know, but a total coward.”

“That doesn’t make sense at all. I’m leaving.”

It wouldn’t take much for me to agree that Colin was right. I was a coward. Admitting to it didn’t make me stay in Francine’s room though. In reality, it made me leave Francine’s room without another word and hasten my steps out of the hospital.

I walked into a cold, sunny day to realise that I had no transport home. There was no rational reasoning that could get me to go back into the hospital asking Colin for a ride home. A shudder went through me at the thought of using a taxi. People thought taxis were cleaner than other public transport, but that was generally not true.

This once I would ignore my germ-anxiety and get into one of the taxis parked in front of the hospital. I wanted to get home. Away from reappearing thieves and friendship proclamations. This emotional overload had me desperate for something normal. It had been three days since I last scrubbed the bathrooms and it would be the perfect therapeutic action to deal with this.

As I gingerly got into a taxi I thought about the implications of Colin’s return into my life. And Vinnie and Francine. What else were they bringing with them into my safe world? I wanted to not think about this. I wanted the simplicity of cleaning my apartment and the predictability of going to work tomorrow. The thought of a new case perked me up. If only for a few minutes.

Chapter THREE

“This is the new case?” I lifted one of the thick files from my desk. If it weren’t so heavy and full of loose bits of paper, I would’ve shaken it at Phillip in annoyance. Instead I put it on top of the others and rested my hand on it. “Five files this size and you told me it could wait? Is this a cold case?”

“Good morning, Genevieve.” Phillip walked into my viewing room and pulled a chair closer. “How are you this morning? I see that you’ve found the files.”

When I had stepped into my office ten minutes ago, these files had been waiting for me on my long desk. Above the desk, my ten top-of-the-range computer monitors, arranged in a wide semi-circle, were dark. Apart from placing my coffee mug on its designated coaster and glancing at the files, there hadn’t been time for much else. Phillip’s presence in my viewing room indicated that he had requested to be informed as soon as I stepped into the building. He only ever did that when he was concerned about me.

I turned away from the files and watched Phillip place the chair at a comfortable distance from me. He understood and respected my need for personal space. “Were you being sarcastic?”

The
risorius
muscle pulled at the corner of his mouth. He was fighting a smile. “Yes and no. But I don’t want to argue with you on this beautiful Tuesday morning. Let’s talk about Francine. How is she?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

I was becoming faster in recognising the feeling of guilt. I pushed it away. Despite my cleaning frenzy yesterday, there was still chaos in my chest. I had worked so hard during my teens and twenties to never have this feeling, but these people had brought it all back into my life.

After I had cleaned the oven a second time last night, I had accepted the necessity to sit down and analyse what was behind my desire for hygiene. Behind the tightness in my chest. A cup of camomile tea later I had identified the predominant feeling as betrayal. What I didn’t know was whether I wanted to address this with Vinnie, Francine and especially Colin. I was, however, determined to insist on a complete explanation from Colin. I also wanted to hear the full account of what had happened to Francine so I could make an informed judgement call.

As it was, her admission of murdering two people horrified me. I didn’t know if there was anything she could say that would make me look at her favourably again. The fact that she was so deeply pleased with calling me her friend didn’t help either. It only exacerbated the maelstrom of emotions.

“I mean I don’t know. I left the hospital yesterday shortly after our phone conversation and have not spoken to her since. She was awake and arguing when I left.”

“You didn’t phone to find out about your friend?” He shook his head. “Never mind that. Where is Colin?”

“I don’t know and right now I don’t want to talk about it.” The strain in my tone must have alerted Phillip. His eyebrows were raised and I knew he was concerned. I didn’t want him to ask the question I saw on his face. “Tell me about the thefts.”

Phillip narrowed his eyes at me, no doubt letting me know that he was allowing me to evade his questioning. He glanced at the files. “It’s strange. In the last four weeks, five thefts occurred in very secure and, in two of the cases, very secret locations.”

“So it’s not a cold case. Were they insured by Rousseau & Rousseau?”

“Two of these cases, yes.”

“Then why are we dealing with all five thefts?” My mind was adding all the pieces together. I narrowed my eyes. “Are we doing this as Rousseau & Rousseau or are we doing this for someone else? Interpol?”

Instead of answering me, Phillip got out of the chair and opened the electronic doors to my soundproof viewing room. “She knows.”

“I knew she wouldn’t take long to put two and two together.” The familiar scratchy voice with its crisp British accent identified its owner. Colonel Manfred Millard. He entered my viewing room, looking as rumpled as always. A beige raincoat was squashed under his arm, his white shirt looked like he had worn it for a week, and the fumbled Windsor knot of his outdated tie didn’t make it up to the unbuttoned collar of his shirt. But there was a genuine smile lifting his unshaven cheeks and crinkling the corners of his eyes. “Hello, Doctor Face-Reader. Looking good as always. Still as annoying as always?”

“Hello, Manny. You’re smiling, so you are not sarcastic and angry. Why do you think fondly of me as annoying?”

Manny laughed. “That is why, Doc. That is why.”

Phillip rolled the third and only other office chair to my desk and motioned for Manny to sit. “I’ve just started telling her about the case.”

My first contact with Manny had not been amicable at all. It had taken us a fair amount of time to reach any form of cooperation. He had reluctantly admitted respecting my expertise and I had had to concede to his superior investigative skills. At that time he had been working for the European Defence Agency. After that case he had accepted a position at Interpol. I wasn’t completely sure what he was doing now. “Why is Interpol interested in this case? When did you get this case? Phillip, why did you not tell me about this yesterday? I could’ve made some progress by now.”

“Whoa, hold your horses, Doc.” Manny lifted his hands.

“What horses? I don’t own any horses.” I turned to Phillip. “Will you please answer my questions?”

Phillip’s mouth was quivering again, fighting another smile. He won control. “Let me give you a quick run-down and then Manny can tell you their interest. The first theft took place four weeks ago in an elderly woman’s home. She had quite a few valuable artefacts in her home, but most significant was what was in her safe. She had an Alberto Giacometti bronze sculpture, more valuable than all of the art in her home combined. We’re talking close to one hundred million dollars. She was attacked, gagged and bound while two men raided her home. They took a few other pieces of the art, broke into her safe and took the Giacometti as well.”

“Is she okay?” I asked.

“Traumatised, but fine. She’s also furious. Her home and all the content is insured by us and protected by a highly reputable security company. She had a custom-made security system installed, maintained by the security company who had three guards on her property at all times.”

“Is she a celebrity that she needs such security?”

“No, but she comes from old money. Lots of it. She never got married and has no children.”

“How did the thieves enter her home? How did they get past the security system and the guards?”

“That is a mystery that infuriates the security company. Their exhaustive investigation into the event reached no conclusion. Their system showed no activity during that period. The guards were found not guilty of any neglect of duty. Their statements were supported by the evidence that no alarms were triggered even though the owner said that she had repeatedly pushed the panic button in numerous places around the house. This company is one of the most respected in the country, used by many high-profile individuals.”

“The owner of this company is some family member to someone high up in Interpol,” Manny interrupted. Clearly he couldn’t wait any longer for Phillip to finish. “Because his company is completely dependent on its reputation for reliability, he took this to his relative in Interpol. The next day it was on my desk. That was two days ago. Once I looked at it, I knew exactly who would be perfect for helping me tie this thing up quickly, so I got in my car.”

“You drove all the way here from Lyon?” I asked, knowing that Manny was stationed there at Interpol’s headquarters.

“Yes. Coming here was recommended.”

“They want you to work with us on this,” Phillip said. “They know you have connections with the insurance industry.”

“After the last fiasco, the whole world knows.” Manny looked displeased with this.

I didn’t want to waste precious cognitive function on understanding his annoyance. The case was more interesting. “What about the other thefts?”

“Similar stories. Highly protected, highly valued artefacts of all eras, genres, mediums. In only one other case were the owners attacked. The other three times the owners were not at home during the robbery.”

“Are these professional thieves?” I asked this question with Colin’s face in my mind. He might be working for Interpol, but he was still a thief. Would he be capable of doing something like this? At his own admission, he had been in the city for the last six weeks.

“Most definitely not,” Manny said. “Professional art thieves will get in, take what they’re there for and get out. You can ask your boyfriend if this is true.”

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” I immediately answered. And then I understood his meaning. It annoyed me. “Colin is not my boyfriend.”

Manny snorted his disdain. “Well, these guys were complete amateurs. They fooled around. In one house, they even stole iPads, DVDs and three tubs of ice cream.”

“Was it the same group at all five robberies?” I asked.

“No. Two of these were committed the same evening, in two different countries.”

“Two different countries? Where?” That eliminated Colin from my suspect list.

Manny closed his eyes for a moment. “One was here in France, in Lille, the other in Germany. The police also found footprints at the various crime scenes, none of them the same. Some crime scenes had only one set of footprints, different to the other crime scenes. Other crime scenes had two or more sets of footprints from different perpetrators. It is all in the reports there.”

I looked at the files Manny pointed at. “So, what do these cases have in common? Except of course the theft of valuables?”

Manny had now completely taken over from Phillip. He counted on his fingers. “The thief or thieves knew exactly where to go. In the Lille house, the owner had a secret safe built into a secret wall. The wall was hidden behind a curtain, the safe hidden behind a panel covered by a valuable painting supposed to serve as a red herring.”

I searched my mind for the meaning of that idiom and then nodded proudly for Manny to continue.

“None of the safes were broken, lock-picked or blown up. The thieves knew the combinations to get in. One safe had a fingerprint lock which the thief managed to override. All the homes were insured, but by different companies. Maybe the most significant similarity is that all of them employed security companies.”

“Not all of our clients have security companies in their employ,” Phillip said. “We highly recommend it to our clients, since they are all high-end with sometimes priceless valuables in their homes. Some people simply don’t want that intrusion. They would rather take the risk and pay a higher premium on their insurance than give strangers access to their home. Even if those strangers are security guards. Most of them do however have alarm systems, even if it’s only to scare away stray cats or the odd thief.”

I thought about this. “What about surveillance cameras on those properties that were broken into?”

“They were also overridden. While these guys were cleaning out the safes, the entire security system functioned as if everything was normal,” Manny said.

The door swished open and Angelique, Phillip’s personal assistant, entered. As usual she looked elegantly formidable, except when she glanced at me. Then she looked terrified. She took another tentative step and addressed Phillip. “Sir, there is an urgent call for you in your office.”

“Can’t it wait, Angelique?” Phillip insisted on an informal, yet respectful work atmosphere. Angelique never looked comfortable being addressed by her first name. Everyone in the office called Phillip by his name. She refused.

“No, sir. It’s Madame Lenoir.”

“Her house was also broken into.” Phillip jumped out of his chair. “Let me take care of this and I’ll get right back.”

“No problem. Doc and I will catch up,” Manny said. Phillip followed Angelique out my viewing room and Manny turned to me. “So, Doc, how have you been?”

“Well, thank you, Manny. How have you been?” I was well practiced in insincere interest and the exchange of mundane questions and answers.

Manny laughed. “Are you only asking me to be polite?”

“Yes.” I gave it some thought. “Actually, no. I haven’t seen you in five months and you’ve been working at Interpol. I suppose that you have done quite a lot of interesting things. That does make me interested in how you have been.”

“Um, thanks, Doc. I think.” He leaned back in his chair. “Joining Interpol was a good move for me. We did a full investigation into Kubanov after that whole drama five months ago. Did you know we had a breakthrough in our search for evidence against that arsehole?”

“No.” The Russian criminal disguised as a philanthropist’s actions had steered me on a path where I had seen far too much of the dark side of human nature. He had been at the centre of the case that had brought Colin, Vinnie and Francine into my life. He was a man who needed to be incarcerated. Preferably forever. “What evidence?”

“It doesn’t matter now. Nothing ever came from it.” He sighed heavily. “When I agreed to join Interpol it was on the condition that I could pursue the Kubanov case.”

It had taken weeks of Mozart to forget the terror I had experienced because of Kubanov. “So what happened to your investigation?”