Don Easton

Art and Murder


Скачать книгу

anger.

      Jack opened the cardboard box and saw an assortment of jewellery, two passports, and four cellphones. The passports were both Romanian and the numbers were in sequence. The photograph in each one was of the same woman, but the names were different, as was her date of birth, although both dates put her age at twenty.

      He looked at the phones and saw that a felt pen had been used to scrawl a number on the back of each phone, running in sequence from four to seven. He retrieved the two phones he had taken from Anton’s pocket and saw that one had the number three on it.

      Next he slid the crate out and pried the top off. Inside he felt the edge of a picture frame that had been wrapped in bubble wrap. Anton and Bojan were watching intently, but when Jack glanced at them, they both looked away with an obviously feigned lack of interest. Something important, boys?

      Jack left the picture as it was and picked up Anton’s phone with the number three. He gave a grim smile as he pushed redial.

      “It’s about time,” Roche said in French.

      “So, you’re a Frenchman,” Jack said harshly. “Do you speak English?”

      “Who is this?” Roche replied frostily in English.

      “My name is Jack. I’m the guy you ordered Anton to kill.”

      A gasp was followed by a moment of silence, then Roche said, “I’ve never heard of you and I don’t know what you’re talking about. You must have the wrong number.”

      “Perhaps you would like to speak to Anton. Personally, I hate talking on phones, but with what happened, I’m presuming this call is okay. I’ll let him explain the situation to you,” he said, then ripped the duct tape from Anton’s mouth.

      Roche listened in shock as Anton spoke and then Jack took the phone away.

      “Okay, I think he’s explained the situation to you enough,” said Jack.

      Roche remained silent as he tried to figure out what to say or do.

      “I take it very personally what you tried to do to me,” Jack continued, letting the anger show in his voice. And a lot more personally for what you did to Kerin Bastion.

      Jack knew if he took the stash, there would be no reason for the bad guys to continue to contact him. He had to think of another solution and cleared this throat. “I have located something valuable … but not exactly something I can take to the bank. Still, it’s enough collateral for me to give you incentive to find a way to reimburse me, even if I do kill these two idiots.”

      “Please, don’t harm them,” Roche begged.

      “That will depend on you,” Jack said. “I will give you two hours to decide on what you can offer to rectify the wrong you’ve committed. If I don’t hear from you at exactly seven-thirty, don’t bother calling later because there won’t be anyone who could answer. Same thing if you phone anyone to try to rescue them. If I or my associates see someone, I’ll kill these two idiots immediately and take what’s in front of me.”

      “I don’t have Klaus’s number!” Roche’s voice revealed his panic. “He lives there and will be coming home after he sees the doctor.”

      Jack remained silent.

      “Please, don’t hurt them,” said Roche again, speaking rapidly. “I’m sure we can come to some form of —”

      Jack hung up. Let the games begin.

      Chapter Fourteen

      Jack turned his attention back to the crate and caught the worried look Bojan gave Anton as he slid the painting out and unwrapped it. It was an image of a clown with a white face and a teardrop under one eye. It reflected his own emotions.

      He realized he’d been lost in his own thoughts when he became aware that both Anton’s and Bojan’s gazes were fixed on him. “Why are you staring at me?” he yelled. “You thinking of trying something?”

      “No,” replied Anton. “I was only watching what —”

      “Shut up!” Jack put the duct tape back over Anton’s mouth and then over his and Bojan’s eyes, before using his phone to photograph the painting, passports, and jewellery. He then sent the photos to Rose, along with a text telling her he’d contacted Roche and that he was expecting to hear back from him at seven-thirty.

      Jack was placing the painting back into the crate when Laura called to say she had arrived at the front gate. He ripped the tape off Bojan’s mouth, then put a gun to his head, saying, “You have a choice. Give me the number for the keypad at the front gate or I’ll ram it open with you tied to the front bumper.”

      Moments later, Laura entered and parked behind the workshop as Jack had directed. The first thing she saw upon entering the workshop was Clive’s body on the floor.

      “Back here!” Jack called.

      Laura walked into the back room and saw two men lying hog-tied on the floor. Next to them stood Jack, who gestured to a stack of cocaine, along with a cardboard box and a flat wooden crate. “Take a look,” he said.

      His voice sounded hollow and Laura knew he was hurting inside. She fought the urge to tell him the French police officer’s murder wasn’t his fault. Her eyes met his and she saw the muscle in his jaw ripple. His eyes flashed anger as he put his finger to his lips.

      Laura nodded. Message received.

      “Got thirty-two kilos of coke and enough jewellery to keep you happy for a lot of birthdays,” said Jack, continuing to play the role he’d set out for himself.

      Laura looked at the cocaine stacked on the workbench alongside several phones and a couple of passports. She then looked in the cardboard box and saw it was filled with expensive watches and cloth bags no doubt containing diamond rings and gold jewellery. She looked at the two captives again, then at Jack. A dead police officer in Paris, a dead dope dealer here … and this? She made a palms-up gesture, silently asking, What should we do?

      * * *

      Jack’s phone went off, and he held up a hand indicating Laura to wait while he answered the call. It was Rose. He left Laura to watch the captives as he moved to the opposite end of the building.

      “What have you got?” he asked abruptly.

      “Special ‘O’ located Klaus at VGH. He’s sitting with Liam in the waiting area. They said he’s rocking back and forth and holding his jaw and moaning, but the waiting room’s full. I doubt he will be clear before noon.”

      “Good. What else?”

      “I called Paris and told them you were talking directly to Roche in an undercover capacity. That caught their attention. I’ll be getting a copy of Kerin’s notes any minute.”

      “Thank you,” Jack said.

      “I haven’t had time to check into the jewellery or the painting yet, other than to ask the French about it, and they say the painting doesn’t match any of the stolen ones they know about. What did you say to Roche?”

      “I let his brother explain the situation to him, although at this point I can’t let on that I know they’re brothers. I then told him I wanted compensation other than what I found and would hold the stash and the two guys as collateral. Besides the photos I sent you, I also have thirty-two kilos of coke.”

      “Great. I also presume it was all in plain sight for you to see?”

      “It was when I photographed everything.”

      “That’s what I was afraid of,” said Rose sternly.

      “It isn’t like I had time to get a warrant,” replied Jack tersely. “I’m surprised Roche hadn’t already tossed his phone. Probably waiting for a confirmation call. I needed all the ammo I could find and to call him as quickly as possible. Besides, I don’t have any intention of charging