Gauguin Connection, The (33 page)

“Especially since quite a few of the names that we saw on those lists are people in high political positions in the EU.” Colin grinned. “This is delicious.”

“What is?” I asked.

“This scandal.” His smile widened. “If this ever comes out, it will rock the European high-flying world and destroy years of building EU relations and PR.”

Manny rolled his head on his shoulders as if to ease the tension in his neck muscles. “So I’ve discovered a few things about Tomasz Kubanov. He started three charity organisations before he founded the Foundation for Development of Sustainable Education. The theory is that it took him three tries before he got it right.

“The Foundation to date is the largest of his charities and also the most active. The second biggest is an education fund. Fifteen years ago Kubanov lent his personal support and that of the Foundation to a trust fund for artists. The limited information I’ve been able to get tells me that the trust fund is there to give talented young people opportunities to become masters.”

I jerked. My brain felt like it had received a lightning bolt’s energy. Something Manny had just told us fit perfectly with something I had seen, read or heard previously. I closed my eyes and in my head I switched on Mozart’s Clarinet Concerto in A major.

“Jenny?” Colin touched my arm lightly.

I opened my eyes to notice that the light in my apartment had changed. Once again time had floated away while I was in my head. A glance at my watch confirmed that thirty minutes had gone by. I turned to Colin. “Give me a moment.”

“Okay.” He leaned back in his chair and nodded at Manny as if he had just won an argument. Vinnie wasn’t at the table.

It didn’t take me long to find what I was looking for. It was so exciting that I was bouncing in my chair.

“Jenny, you have to tell us what has you so excited.” Colin sounded pained.

“Connections.”

“What connections, Doc?” Manny’s silence while I had been working impressed me. As did the lack of hostility around the table. Vinnie had returned and was lounging in his chair. I wondered how long the patience and peace would last.

“What do these artists have in common?” I asked.

“They’re all dead, and they were all on the cruise ships owned by companies whose major shareholder is another company,” Colin answered.

“Right. There is one more connection. Look.” I pointed at the computer screen. “I came across this when I was researching art students. A scholar wrote this academic article about scholarships. His focus was on the arts and here are a few students he interviewed. Seven of these names are on Francine’s list.”

“Bloody holy hell,” Manny said.

“The name of the institution giving the scholarships is not mentioned in this article,” I continued. “But it is mentioned that the students were awarded a holiday on a cruise ship as a reward when they excelled in their studies.”

We stared at the article in silence for some time, each lost in their own thoughts. I turned to Manny. “Did Kubanov start the trust fund or is he only a patron of it?”

“He’s only a patron,” Manny said.

“Then who started this trust fund?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you have the name of this trust fund?”

“The Michaelangelo fund. That is unfortunately all I got. Since I was focussing on the event, I left this line of inquiry for later.” He sounded regretful. “After this event, I’ll definitely be looking at Kubanov more closely.”

Colin leaned back in his chair and started tapping on the screen of his smartphone. I frowned at his rudeness and focussed on Manny again. “What we found on Kubanov was only positive. He has really helped a lot of people. From the many articles adulating him, it would be impossible to think anything bad about him. If it weren’t for the evidence accumulating against him, I would never have suspected him. It is such a dichotomy. The funding and the true purpose for his charity organisations have been at the expense of many lives. Yet he has given an unbelievable number of people aid. Through the Foundation alone, two villages have homes for around nine hundred people, including children that he gave better lives to.

“His personal residence in Russia is quite modest for a man of his means. That endears him only more to the masses. He’s not like many politicians talking about coming from poverty, understanding their
constituents, but living in mansions. He is in public view, but always comes across as modest and humble. Nowhere on the internet could I find any direct connection between him and a remotely negative situation or a singular scandal.”

“But we already have so much evidence,” Vinnie said. “Isn’t it enough to get rid of him, his Foundation and Piros?”

“There is no doubt in my mind that Kubanov and Piros are connected,” Manny said. “I can take this to an EU court, but with the right lawyers, Kubanov could still get away. We need indisputable, concrete evidence.”

“Like what?” Vinnie sounded like a five-year-old.

“Bank accounts, anything on paper connecting him to Piros, to the Eurocorps weapons, to the artists, to anything. People aren’t guilty by association.” Manny’s eyes locked on Vinnie. “Just because your dad was a governor who got his housekeeper pregnant doesn’t mean that you’re also going to go into politics.”

A breath of charged silence was the only warning I got. The next moment Vinnie was in front of Manny. The large man’s body language gave every indicator that Manny might not live through this. Colin jumped up and pushed himself between the two combative men. Vinnie’s fists were bunched as was his jaw. Manny was still seated. A smug, knowing smile played around his mouth.

“What did you do?” Vinnie screamed at him and lunged forward. Colin was no match for the large man and moved with him. His hands were ineffectively pushing against Vinnie’s chest.

“Vin, dude.” Colin pushed harder, but didn’t budge Vinnie an inch. “He’s not worth it. Let it be.”

“No.” He didn’t tone down his voice. I felt very uncomfortable with the promise of such violence in my apartment. It might make an interesting study in male behaviour, but I preferred such studies on the screens in my viewing room. A few thoughts flew through my mind, including the fact that I didn’t know how to remove bloodstains from my lovely wooden floors, so I stood up.

Vinnie pushed against Colin to get to Manny. “The bastard investigated me.”

Manny leaned forward as if he wasn’t baiting an enraged bodybuilder. “Are you really surprised that I investigated you, Carlton Venneri-Smith?”

“No!” A tortured scream roared through my apartment. Vinnie shoved Colin out of the way, stepped forward and picked Manny up by the collar of his rumpled jacket. Something of great importance was happening and I didn’t know what to do. But I didn’t want to clean blood off my floors. Vinnie walked Manny backwards to the kitchen, threatening him with all types of bodily harm in a voice that chilled me. He stopped in front of the long counter and bent Manny backwards. I walked to them as fast as I could. Colin tried to grab my arm, but I sidestepped him.

I stopped next to Vinnie and put my hand on his forearm. This did not come naturally to me. Powerful muscles strained against my palm. Vinnie’s strength and size were unnerving. “Vinnie, please don’t do this.”

“Stay out of it, Jen-girl.” He didn’t even look at me.

I put my other hand on his shoulder. Never before had I tried to calm anyone down. Nor had I ever tried to do it by touch. I didn’t know if I was doing it right. All I knew was that Colin’s dislike of Manny would make his attempts to calm Vinnie down a moot exercise. That left the job to me. I leaned closer to the man I had come to like and respect.

“Vinnie, I feel very uncomfortable right now. Your behaviour is scaring me.” That got him to glance at me. I looked him straight in the eye and allowed him to see my discomfort. “I don’t know what to do and that makes me scared. Please don’t do this to me.”

His features softened as well as the muscles under my palms. He took a few slow breaths through clenching teeth. I wondered if I should say anything else. In psychology I had learned all the placating phrases, but they weren’t coming to me now. All I could do was stand there, too close for my own comfort, and hope that Vinnie would let go of Manny’s collar. The older man was showing signs of pain and flashes of concern.

Vinnie pushed Manny away like trash and turned to me. Hands that a second ago were ready to inflict pain curled gently around my shoulders. “I’m sorry, Jen-girl. I never want to scare you.”

“I know.” I didn’t know what to do with my hands. I didn’t want to touch him anymore, but I knew he needed it. I awkwardly placed my hands on his chest. “You’re my friend. I trust you.”

Only on video footage and in textbooks had I seen the expression of such deep gratitude. A simple touch, two short sentences and I had just given Vinnie a priceless gift. To my horror, tears were forming in my eyes. I pushed against his chest as I blinked rapidly. But Vinnie wouldn’t let me go. He pulled me closer and wrapped his arms around me. I stood stiffly in his embrace, rueing my impulsive action. Until Vinnie whispered, “Thank you,” into my hair. It softened me. I gave him three more seconds before I stepped away.

Colin was leaning against the counter with an expression I did not want to evaluate. Going from rational emotional safety to this overwhelmed me. Analysing the deep affection on Colin’s face might send me into hours of writing Mozart. Not only was I feeling bombarded with emotions, but this new insight into Vinnie’s past was also proving to be very distracting. So I did what I was best at when confronted with emotions. Compartmentalised. If later I wanted to analyse, I could look into it. Now I wanted to get back onto safe territory. I walked back to the dining room table and placed the EDA computer in its usual place.

Vinnie and Colin were quietly talking in the kitchen. Colin was telling Vinnie that he wasn’t to be surprised that Manny had looked into his life. Manny had returned to his chair as if nothing had transpired. That annoyed me. He had purposefully been provocative and it had caused an overload of emotions I would have to deal with later. This behaviour was not to happen again in my apartment and he was going to hear my thoughts on it.

On my inhale, my personal computer pinged. I glanced at the screen and swallowed my diatribe. “Francine’s just sent the third and fourth decoded flash drives.”

Forgotten were all personal agendas. Manny straightened in his chair and by the time I opened the email, Colin was sitting next to me and Vinnie was standing behind me. Everyone leaned in to read the email. My breathing
shallowed. After the last ten minutes, this was too much for me.

“Move away from me.” I lifted my hands wanting to push them away. “I’ll read the email to you. Just move away.”

The men must have heard the strain in my voice. They responded immediately by giving me the space I needed. Vinnie walked around the table and sat down across from me. I didn’t complain when Manny scraped his chair on my wooden floors. He was moving away from me and that mattered more. Colin remained where he was, only leaning back in his chair. I could breathe again.

“Thank you. I’ll read what she said before I open the attachments.” I had the urge to clear my throat. I didn’t. “Francine listed everything so neatly. By number. Why does she ask at the end if it is English enough?”

“I asked her to not use tech talk when she sent you emails. It’s worse than euphemisms and slang,” Colin said. “What did she say?”

“Well, in number one she states that P&S is owned by two companies. One owns ninety-nine percent, the other owns one percent. In number two she says that she’s still searching, but couldn’t find the names of the owners or founders of the companies anywhere. Oh my, she is quite rude here. She says that she’ll find the motherfuckers. And that I should not worry. Why would I worry?”

“It’s just an expression. She’s obviously pissed off. It is not often that Francine can’t find something or someone.” Colin smiled.

“Oh. Okay. Number three states that she found out who was behind the scholarships for those unlucky students.” I confronted Colin. “How did she know about these students having scholarships?”

He waved his smartphone at me. “I sent her a text message. She works really fast.”

I frowned my displeasure before I returned to Francine’s email. I read a few sentences in silence. My eyes widened, followed by rapid blinking for a few moments. I looked at Manny. “Guess who paid for their tuition?”

“The Michaelangelo fund?” Manny sounded hoarse.

I read from the email. “‘This Michaelangelo education fund is rather enigmatic. I didn’t find much publicity for it. Once or twice it came up in a search, but the mention of it was too vague to catch it in a general search. I checked all thirty-seven students listed on the flash drive. So far I’ve found fourteen who were on scholarships from this fund. What is this? Why didn’t you tell me these artists were dead? My search created a pattern and I found more students with financial support from this trust fund. I will do more checking and send you a complete list. What is going on here? Genevieve? Colin?’”

Manny frowned deeply, the corners of his mouth turning down. “Frey, what did you tell this woman?”

“I didn’t tell her anything. I only gave her search parameters.”

I was also frowning. “What is her IQ?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Colin folded his arms and frowned back at us.

“From the little that I’ve seen of her work”—I glanced at the computer screen—“she has an above-average IQ. It wouldn’t be difficult to take the information from the flash drives, combine it with the other things she’s found for us and reach a conclusion.”

“Who is this woman?” Manny wanted to investigate her as well. It was in his voice, his body language,
his eyes. Vinnie’s relaxed posture changed. Clearly he had not forgotten Manny’s propensity to dig into people’s lives.

“She can be trusted,” Colin answered. “That’s all you need to know.”

I was trying to think of the best way to retain our focus on the email when an uncanny realisation dawned on me. “Do you guys realise we are a team? I’ve never worked in a team before.”

Three different postures—one of defiance, one of offence and one of fury—all changed to horror.

“What? Why are you looking so disturbed by this thought?”

“Jenny, look at your team members,” Colin reminded me gently. Once I had made up my mind to trust Vinnie and Colin, I had grown further and further away from the knowledge of their skillsets. It shocked me that in the last few days I had stopped thinking of them as what they were. Criminals.

“Oh, no,” I whispered.

“And now you’ve scared us all.” Colin’s smile didn’t look scared. “Don’t worry about me. I’m sure my reputation will survive.”

“It’s not only my reputation I’m worried about.” Manny muttered something unintelligible under his breath. “A whole lifetime of service and this is who I’m working with?”

In all honesty, I had never given Manny’s predicament any thought. It was disturbing enough for me to work with two criminals. I could not imagine how Manny had to be feeling co-operating with the very people he had spent his life keeping off the streets. Deep regret for voicing my observation settled on my shoulders. If I hadn’t said anything, maybe no one around the table would be looking as agitated as they did. I had exacerbated an already volatile situation.

Never before had I missed Phillip’s presence as much as at this very moment. He would have known exactly what to say or do. This situation was far beyond my purview. Yet I tried. “Manny, Colin told me something about Francine. Enough for me to feel comfortable to let her be part of this team.”

“Have you met her?” Manny asked.

“No,” I said. “I hold Colin responsible for her.”

“Hey,” Colin complained.

“No,” Manny interrupted. “It’s a good idea. You’re the one who brought her in, Frey. You will be the one paying for any misstep on her part.”

Colin relaxed. “That won’t happen.”

“You better pray it doesn’t. I still want to know who she is.”

“You can ask her if you ever meet her.” From Vinnie’s vindictive smile I surmised that Francine didn’t introduce herself to too many people.

Manny stifled a yawn and nodded at my computer. “What else does she say?”

“That the third and fourth flash drives were easier to decode, now that she has cracked the first two.” I looked at Colin. “I presume she didn’t physically break them.”

He smiled and just shook his head.

I returned to the email. “She says that the third flash drive holds details about all auction and private sales. The fourth drive has financial data. It also has a long list of other numbers that she says are all weapon identification numbers. Oh. Oh, my. She’s really, really rude here.” I leaned closer to check Francine’s spelling of a number of creative swearwords.

“Oh, she knows,” Vinnie said proudly. “She’s figured it out.”

Manny looked down at his hands, not saying a word. His eye muscles moved, indicators of internal dialogue. Another yawn brought him out of his contemplation. He dug the heels of his hands in his eyes and rubbed hard.

“The old man is tired,” Vinnie whispered meaningfully out of the corner of his mouth.

“What’s the time?” I asked as I looked at the bottom of the computer screen. “It’s past eleven already.”

“Time flies when you’re having fun.” Nothing on Colin’s face indicated the muttered sentence held any truth.

“Okay.” The resolve in Manny’s voice led me to conclude that he had come to a decision. “Doc, email me those numbers. But email them from your private email to my private email. I’ll give them to Leon to cross-reference with their weapons inventory. How many numbers are there?”

I opened the appropriate file and flinched. “There are two sets of numbers. Together they add up to seventeen hundred and eighty-six numbers. That is more than double the quantity of stolen weapons Leon knows about.”

“Not good, not good at all,” Manny said.

“Should I email this to Leon?” I asked.

“No. Email it to my private email and I’ll forward it to Leon’s private email. It’s better that everything stays off official places.” He pushed himself up with a groan. “I’m going home.”

My bottom jaw slackened and my eyes stretched. “You cannot be serious.”

“As a heart attack.” No heart condition could be pertinent to the case, so I assumed Manny was using a euphemism. He had to be exhausted to regress from the proper English he had been speaking. “Look, it’s late and I’m tired. We’re not going to crack this nut wide open within the next few hours, so I suggest we all get a good night’s rest. Then we can do this again tomorrow, just a bit fresher. Doc, do you think you’ll be able to hold off going through those flash drives for the night?”

I stared at him. How could anyone expect that of me? It was said that every morning, Mozart’s mother used to play a scale up to the seventh note. Mozart’s compulsion to finish the octave was what got him out of bed. He simply had to press the last, the finishing note. What Manny was asking me was worse than Mrs. Mozart’s methods.

“You’re serious.” I could see no deception cues.

“As a heart attack,” he repeated.

It took a mere millisecond and then I understood. I giggled. “It’s not funny, but it’s actually funny.”

“Glad to be of some entertainment value.” Manny walked to the front door. “I’ll be here early in the morning to check out those drives. Try to get some sleep.”

He didn’t wait for any response, just walked to the door with slumped shoulders. I stared at my front door as it closed. “I can’t do it.”

“Of course you can, Jenny.” Colin took my personal computer away from me and started shutting down all running programmes.

“Don’t do that!” My demand came out louder than intended. It didn’t slow Colin down though.

“You need your beauty sleep. Tomorrow is the big event and you need to be fresh and alert for it. God only knows what will happen there.” He was still distressed about me going to the charity function. It was clearly depicted on his face, his body language, his voice.

Not to my recollection had I ever had the desire to please people. Too early in my life I had learned that no matter what I did, people—more specifically my parents—were never pleased with my actions. I adjusted my behaviour to avoid conflict, but never to make people more comfortable. The concern burning lines on Colin and Vinnie’s faces was changing that. I did the unthinkable.

“Fine. I’ll wait until the morning.”

“And you’ll sleep.” An order.

I sighed. “I’ll sleep. But I’ll be up early to work on this. It is your choice whether you want to be here for it.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Vinnie said as he got up.

“Same goes for me.” Colin smiled when I winced. “Until you are out of danger, you’re stuck with us, Jenny.”

I decided not to reply. I only gave them the most condescending look I could muster. “Make sure everything is where it should be. Including the computers.”

Colin frowned at where he had placed my personal computer. Obviously he couldn’t see that it was at least two centimetres to the left. It was with greater restraint than I had known I possessed that I got up and walked to my bedroom.

A few quiet moments alone and I realised how tired I was. It had been two and a half weeks of emotional, informational and tactile overload. I needed to sleep, but would not be able to. There was only one thing that could prevent insomnia. I sneaked back to the dining room table, aligned the computers and the chairs, and returned to my bedroom smiling. Relieved.

Surprisingly, I slept well and woke up Saturday morning feeling refreshed. But that eighth, final note of the scale needed to be played. The increasing discomfort of not having looked at the flash drives sent me through my morning routine much faster than usual. So much so that I made it to the kitchen before Vinnie. I smiled while preparing the coffee. He was going to be unhappy about this.

“You’re too fast.” Vinnie stormed into the kitchen, pulling a T-shirt over his head. I was afforded a glimpse of his muscular torso. Long, ugly scars zigzagged across his left side from his collarbone to below his pants. The soft T-shirt flowed down and covered it up too quickly. I knew so little about this man. There was not only the question of his origins and his name, but also these scars that I wanted to ask him about. But the expression on his face did not invite any questions. He stomped towards me and pointed to the dining room.

“Morning, Vinnie.” I smiled at him.

He grunted a greeting and shook his pointed finger. “Go do your thing on your computers. I’ll bring your coffee.”

Since it had been my impatience for the new information that had driven me into the kitchen so early, I didn’t argue. I sat down in front of the computers and switched them all on. In the two minutes it took all three machines to whirr to life, I glanced at my notepad. The page with all the connected parts was mocking me.

I frowned at Piros’ name in the box with extra angry lines surrounding it. His connection to this case was tenuous and it was easy enough to find him. Piros, on the other hand, was exceptionally adept at remaining an enigma. Even as Simon Brun he was an unknown entity.

I pulled my mind away from the riddle of Piros’ identity and opened my email. My stomach tightened in anticipation. I loved this part. The new information. The possibility that this might be the key. Francine had attached two zip files, one for each flash drive. I opened the first one.