Gauguin Connection, The (19 page)

“I didn’t mean to offend you, Colin.” This only deepened his frown, so I tried another tactic. I was truly not good at this. But I was really good at honesty. “I knew that Phillip was going to argue with me about Vinnie’s presence and I didn’t want you to overhear something that would cause another show of male
behaviour. As fascinating as I find men beating their chests, I don’t know how to referee that and didn’t want it in my apartment.”

Different sounds of annoyance were uttered by both men and I threw my hands in the air. “That’s it. I don’t know how to communicate with you when you are like this. I’m going to bed.”

I started walking towards my bedroom, but the men were blocking my exit out of the kitchen area. They didn’t move and I stopped in front of them with an angry huff and a lifted eyebrow. We stared at each other for a few long heartbeats. My brain was working overtime, trying to figure out how to deal with this. How on earth did people have relationships when no one was willing to listen to the other person’s honesty?

“Can we sit down and talk about this?” Colin broke the standoff with his quiet question.

“Are you going to listen to me or get angry at everything I say?”

He inhaled to answer me, thought better of it and pressed his lips together. A second later he stepped aside. “Let’s sit down. I’ll listen as long as you also listen.”

“I always listen.”

“And always argue back.”

Vinnie found this funny and chuckled quietly as he followed us to the living area. We all settled in the sofas and I gave them the highlights of Phillip’s visit. When I mentioned the photo, both men leaned forward.

“Let me see the photo.” Colin held out his hand. I picked it up from the coffee table next to me and handed it to him. He studied it for a while before he handed it to Vinnie. We discussed what was visible on the photo, but came to no conclusions. It would be up to Manny and his people to identify this man.

“Dude, you could ask Francine,” Vinnie suggested. “You know how good she is with finding things, info, people.”

“Let Jenny first speak to Manny tomorrow. If he isn’t able to get the man’s name, then we can contact Francine.”

“Right on, dude.” Vinnie leaned back in the chair, happy with Colin’s solution. A pensive silence descended on us and Phillip’s words of warning came back to me. After a while I felt Colin’s eyes on me and looked at him.

“What’s bothering you, Jenny? What are you not telling us?”

I studied his face for any tell-tale signs of deception, malice or animosity. I found none of that. What I did take note of was how he waited out my scrutiny with a quiet calm. Either I was completely mistaken and he was a psychopath. Or he was comfortable with himself and with me, allowing me to read him until I reached a conclusion. Which I did.

“He told me that you’re not telling me everything, that there are things that I don’t know about you.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

“I know that.”

“My favourite colour is blue,” he said. I didn’t understand why he would tell me this, but surmised it might have some social significance, so I smiled politely. This had him chuckling softly. “Never mind. Jenny, any time you have a question about or for me, just ask. I’ll be as honest as possible.”

“You can only be honest or not.”

Vinnie snorted and Colin groaned. “Okay, then I will be totally honest, but will only tell you what I can.”

There was not a single sign of deception to be seen. No one was that good at lying. “Thank you.”

“Same goes for me, Jen-girl,” Vinnie said. There was a smile in his voice. “Although this whole honesty thing is totally new for me.”

I took a few moments to think this over and then decided that there were a few answers I wanted. “Can I ask you something now?”

Colin looked at me askance. “Okay.”

“Are you working for the EDA?”

His lips twitched with humour. “Most definitely not.”

“Eurocorps?”

“Jenny, you’re the one who accused me of being a criminal from the moment we met. How can you think that I’m working for these guys?”

“You’re not answering my question.” Which was an answer in itself.

Colin sighed. “I’m not working for Eurocorps.”

“What is your connection to Manny?”

“What makes you think there is a connection?”

I ignored Vinnie’s soft gasp. A
nd focussed on the numerous cues Colin was exhibiting, telling me exactly how uncomfortable he was. “Answering my question with a question is a diversion far beneath your intellect, Colin.”

“Manfred Millard is a person I am not fond of, Jenny. This is one of those cases where I want to be honest with you, but I can’t tell you everything.”

“But you have a connection?”

“Yes.” That one word carried a wealth of information. His lips drawing sideways to produce a sneering dimple in his cheek showed me that there was no love lost between the two men. Whatever the event was that connected Manny and Colin it did not produce happy memories. Hissing the word through his teeth only reiterated my reading of his face.

“I would really like to know.”

“Maybe one day I will tell you.”

“Okay.”

My silent acceptance surprised him. Then he smiled at me with relief and gratefulness. Apparently, this was a sensitive topic for the man portraying himself as unaffected by the world.

He was not. I settled back into the sofa and allowed my mind to wander over the day’s discoveries. I couldn’t find any new links that we might have overlooked, so I turned my attention to the two men sitting with me in contemplative silence.

I took a mental step back and looked at the three of us lounging on my sofas. Vinnie was taking up most of the space of the sofa facing the bookshelf, while Colin and I were on opposite ends of the sofa facing the balcony. The body language all around communicated high comfort, trust and goodwill.

It astounded me that two people exhibited such cues while in my presence. Never, to my knowledge, had I had that effect on anyone before. Was this what friendship was like? People comfortable in each other’s presence. Was I comfortable in their presence?

Before I could analyse this question, Colin spoke. “It just doesn’t make sense.”

“What, dude?” Vinnie rearranged himself to sit a bit more upright.

“The forgeries.” He was sitting with his eyes closed and spoke as if to himself. “There must be someone facilitating the forgeries being sold at the auctions at sea.”

“Please explain,” I said.

“There are so many varied artworks. So far we have almost fifty artworks that were miraculously recovered by private investigators who do not exist. Of those fifty works we have paintings in all kinds of media—statues, bronzes, different eras, different everything.” He opened his eyes and looked at me. “There is not one single forger able to reach so wide in this range. Not one.”

“And you know all of them?”

“All the ones able to forge works at this level.”

Vinnie’s gasp drew my eye. He was clearly surprised that Colin would tell me this and therefore almost implicate him via association.

I looked back at Colin. “How do you know them?”

“That is not important now. What is important is that I believe there are quite a few forgers working on this. That is the only way I can explain this varied portfolio of works.”

“Dude, do you actually think that would happen? You know how stiff the competition is out there. I can’t imagine a group of forgers forming a union and co-operating.” Vinnie paused a second and tilted his head. “Unless the money is good.”

“The money is never good enough. Not for something like this.”

“Something like what?” I asked.

“I don’t know yet. It just doesn’t make sense.”

I couldn’t see us uncovering any revealing clues tonight, so I pushed myself out of the sofa. “I’m going to bed.”

“Rest up and we’ll speak about our discoveries tomorrow evening.”

“Nighty-night, Jen-girl. Don’t worry about a thing. I’ll clean up after Colin here as soon as he gets his messy ass home.”

“She’s what?” Manny’s outraged voice greeted me as I entered the empty pub. I sighed and walked deeper into the badly lit room. Even though these places were usually rife with interesting subjects to study for non-verbal communication, I very seldom ventured into pubs. There were simply too many places I couldn’t bear to touch. Too many unnamed and unthinkable germs.

I slowed my steps and looked around. At least this place didn’t look too shabby. Booths lined the back and side walls, and worn wooden tables and chairs filled the remaining space. The bar ran the along the entire wall to my right. Unsurprisingly, the pub was devoid of customers at this early hour in the morning. A young man was scrubbing the tiled floor leading to the back with suspicious enthusiasm. A slight sniff informed my olfactory senses that a lot of cleaning products were used this morning. It marginally eased my germ phobia.

The knowledge of what I was about to walk into made me stop next to a stained table. Generally, I preferred to avoid confrontations at all costs. Since Manny had exploded into my life, every day had been filled with confrontation. I swallowed hard and tried to gather the calm needed to face the men waiting for me. Phillip had phoned me earlier and told me that Leon wanted to meet with us, but not at anyone’s office. He was very wary of somebody seeing us enter his office or him entering our building. It made sense.

Rock music blared through the speakers overhead and I sighed. An hour in this place and I was going to have a headache. Another reason I didn’t frequent these types of establishments. I supposed that it was a good place to have a covert meeting. No one could eavesdrop on a conversation without looking obvious doing it. Not that there was anyone here to eavesdrop. Only one booth against the back wall was occupied. I could only see the top of Phillip’s head. I assumed Manny was slumped in the seat across from him. I could still hear Manny complaining about something.

Vinnie had driven me to the pub, grumbling about it being like a bad spy movie. It took the threat of introducing him to Leon and all the other law enforcement people I knew to make him wait outside for me.

I frowned at myself. Standing here was only avoiding the inevitable. I pulled my shoulders back and walked to the booth against the back wall.

“Good morning.” I placed my computer bag with both the EDA and my work computer on the bench next to Phillip. Manny was indeed slumped on the opposite bench. I glared at the plastic-covered seat before I carefully lowered myself onto it. Phillip looked his crisp professional self. In contrast Manny looked like a pile of dirty laundry. As usual.

“Haven’t you just been the busy bee,” grumbled Manny.

“I beg your pardon?” I took out my work computer with my latest report on it and wondered what bees had to do with me. I opened the computer and switched it on. If I focussed on work, I could avoid thinking of the sticky substance under my shoe.

“I’ve been updating Manny on some of your findings, Genevieve.” Phillip smiled at me. “Good morning.”

I returned his smile, but my facial muscles lost their friendliness when I looked at Manny. He was oozing animosity.

“Why does Phillip not want to tell me all the details about your attack, Miss Lenard?”

“
Doctor
Lenard or Genevieve,” I said pointedly and waited for Manny to acknowledge. The frumpy man wanted to bring me down a peg or two, but I was not going to let him reduce me to a ‘Miss’.

We stared at each other for a good minute. It gave me time to do a more accurate reading of the agent’s face and I came to a startling realisation.

“You’re worried about me.” The words rushed out of my mouth unchecked.

He ignored my declaration. “Tell me everything about your attack and your attackers.”

I looked at Phillip only to see amusement. I shrugged mentally and told Manny everything except for Colin and Vinnie’s involvement. I stated that friends helped me. Of course he noticed something was amiss. “You are being just as cagey about the story as Phillip. What are you not telling me?”

“Something that I don’t want you to know.”

He sneered at my obvious answer and went straight to the heart of it. “Who are these friends of yours who came to your rescue?”

I swallowed nervously and looked at Phillip for help. He wasn’t in a haste to be my buffer. I wondered why.

“No, missy, Phillip is not going to help you out here today. It’s just you and me, and I want to know who these people are. Is one of them the outsider Phillip just told me about?”

I sucked in both my lips and bit down on them. I did not want to talk. The whole truth about Colin and Vinnie was pushing against my teeth, desperate to be uttered. I simultaneously fought my urge to confess while searching for the right way to answer. I hoped I was handling this correctly.

“Can you please just accept that my friends are completely trustworthy and that I would never dream of jeopardising the case?” My carefully phrased answer did nothing to change Manny’s unhappy expression. I rushed on, hoping to distract him. “How much has Phillip told you? Do you know about the dead artists?”

“What dead artists?” He was quiet for a second and I could see the moment his curiosity overcame his concerns. “Don’t think that I don’t know what you’re doing. We will talk about this sooner or later.”

My first word of a lengthy explanation was interrupted by a tall gentleman stopping at our booth. I immediately recognised Manny’s friend from the photo of the Foundation’s gala event. Major-General Leon Hofmann. He was taller than the impression I had from the photo, but had the same close-cropped gray hair, light brown eyes and thin lips. A worried expression pulled at his face. Introductions were made all around and Leon sat down next to Manny. A waiter took our coffee orders and we settled.

“Genevieve, explain about the dead artists.” Manny’s order did not sit well with me. Nor did the new guest’s presence. I hadn’t had time to read and to come to my own conclusions about the Eurocorps man. At this moment I only had Manny’s trusted friendship with Phillip to go by. That was by no means enough for me.

Leon must have sensed my hesitance. “I appreciate your reluctance to trust a stranger, Doctor Lenard. But I was the one after all who asked Manny to find someone trustworthy to help us figure this whole thing out. It was on my insistence that he asked Phillip. You can therefore rest assured that my only interest is in figuring out who took those weapons, where they are and what they are being used for.”

His respectful manner, in such severe contrast to Manny’s annoying attitude, went a long way to convince me. But it was his short monologue that gave me some time to start forming a baseline from which I could read him. What I read was deep concern, bordering on desperation. There were no alarms being set off by his non-verbal and verbal cues.

My decision made about Leon’s sincerity, I told them about Danielle, her art, the miraculously recovered artworks, the cruises, the ships, the companies owning those ships and the art auctions. I stopped only for a few seconds to allow the waiter to place our coffees on the table. Both men listened with an intensity uncommon to me. Manny even more so. There wasn’t much that he missed. Three times he interrupted me to ask a question for clarification.

My throat was scratchy from talking so much by the time I was ready to confront Manny about the charity foundation. After a quick sip of lukewarm coffee, I pulled my work computer closer and brought up the photo of the gala event. I turned the computer so that the screen was facing Manny and Leon. “What is your connection to the Foundation for Development of Sustainable Education?”

Manny gave me a searching look before he turned his attention to the computer screen. “This shindig? This was what? Two, three years ago?”

“Two years,” I answered.

“This was some charity evening that I had no choice in attending. Chief Dutoit virtually ordered me to be there. This is neither my interest nor my department, but it was good for PR. Or so the Chief said. I suppose there is a reason you are showing me this?”

“Ten cruise ships have connections to the Foundation. All of those ships have hosted art auctions with suspected forgeries. It is widely publicised that the auctions donate three percent of all money changing hands to the Foundation.”

Manny looked back at the photo. I wondered what was going on in his mind. “Isn’t it also strange how many important figures are in this photo?”

“Who are these actors and this philanthropist?” I pointed to the man who was hidden by the supermodel’s expensive hairdo.

“The stars are just there for the celebrity pull,” Manny said. “But Tomasz Kubanov? He’s something else. I met him for the first time that night. He’s some Russian bigwig. He’s also the one who founded this charity.”

“He is?” I did not expect this. “Why did I not see this information anywhere? I did extensive research on the Foundation.”

“I don’t know,” Manny said in his sarcastic voice. “Maybe he’s one of those private, behind-the-scenes guys.”

“You don’t like him. Why not?”

“He was too smooth for my liking.”

“What do you mean by smooth?”

“He was a real charmer. Never forceful, making everyone feel comfortable and good about themselves. Hell, I even liked the guy while he was chatting to us. It was only after he had moved away that I realised how he was playing everyone like a violin. I’m sure that he could bend anyone to his will just with a smile.”

I doubted that, but was too surprised by the detailed impression Manny had shared to express my opinion. Instead I turned to Leon who was leaning over to look at the computer screen. “Does he have a connection to you, Leon?”

“Apart from that evening and another charity function last year, I had never spoken to or had any other contact with this man.” He was shaking his head throughout his sentence. “Why are you so curious about him?”

“Genevieve will never, ever say it is a gut feeling, but I suspect that is what is driving her.” Phillip spoke for the first time since we started and I was not pleased with his observation.

“It is not a gut feeling.” I knew I sounded defensive and didn’t care.

Manny narrowed his eyes. “What are you thinking, Doc?”

“I don’t know. If Mister Kubanov founded the Foundation and the Foundation has these strong ties to the ships, maybe he is behind all this.”

“It’s bothering Genevieve that she can’t figure out who’s behind the murders.” Phillip scowled. “And behind her attack.”

“I’d be happy to blame a Russian, especially this one,” Manny grumbled.

“What is everyone’s problem with Russia?” My question was fast and unchecked.

“Who else doesn’t trust Russia?”

Answering Manny would require bringing Colin into the conversation. I reached for a creative way to avoid that. Deception was uncommonly hard work. “There are corrupt individuals everywhere. Just because a few Russians are abusing their power doesn’t mean the whole country is bad.”

“There are unfortunately more than just a few abusing their power,” Leon interjected softly and I sighed. An argument about Russia’s positive points was forming in my head and I felt a diatribe coming on.

“Let’s not digress.” Phillip mercifully intervened. “What’s our next step?”

“I’ll get the Foundation’s financials and I’ll also look into this Kubanov character,” Manny said. “I, for one, would like to see if that three percent made it to the Foundation’s bank account.”

He massaged his neck and puffed a slow breath out. Was his distress about the added elements to the case or about something else?

I narrowed my eyes and plunged. “What’s the problem, Manny?”

Immediately a sneering dimple appeared in his left cheek. I deeply disliked this man. “What do you think is the problem, Miss Face-reader?”

“Are you being sarcastic again?” My question caused Leon to cover his chuckle with a cough and Phillip to inhale sharply. Manny just glared his disdain at me. “I take that as a yes. That means that you are angry, but I doubt that you are angry with me. I’m just an easy target. What is really causing you such concern?”

Manny started to speak, but I interrupted him. “And it’s
Doctor
Face-reader to you.”

There was a moment of stunned silence before all three men laughed. This case must have changed me into a comedienne. The laughter died down, but it seemed to have broken the tension around the table. Manny had the decency to look contrite.

“I apologise, Doc. Since Monday I’ve been getting a lot of flack from the Chief. He’s giving me hell about this case, demanding reports, telling me that I’m wasting time and resources on something that is of no concern to the EDA.”

“Could you please explain the exact position of the Chief in the EDA’s organisation?” I asked.

“Right at the top of the EDA’s organigram is the Steering Board, chaired by the Head.” Manny lowered his voice. “I trust her. The man giving me such a hard time is directly under the Head. Frederique Dutoit is the Chief Executive. Under him is myself as the Deputy Chief Executive of Strategy and another deputy.”

“But why is the Chief on your case? Aren’t you sending him any reports?” Leon sounded very concerned.