Notturno (11 page)

said,
Don’t push it
. Boaz grinned and closed the door, leaving Adin alone in the back with his thoughts. Adin touched the

button for the classical radio station again and prepared himself.

Edward and Tuan were old friends, comfortable allies to have at

a time when he felt so unhappy. Edward was an art dealer from

a long line of men and women who either produced art or

traded it.

Tuan was more of an enigma. Adin didn’t know him well,

only that he and Edward met while Edward attended school in

Paris. Tuan worked as an investigator for an insurance firm, and

Adin privately suspected, although it had never been spoken of

out loud, that Tuan was part of another kind of world

altogether, perhaps military, certainly secret, and that going to

school in Paris was a means to an end at a time of crisis, with

Edward as a bonus.

Boaz pulled the limousine up to the front door and Adin got

out, straightening his leather jacket and smiling his thanks. Boaz

practically bowed. “You may phone me, and I’ll be here to get

you in a matter of minutes, Dr. Tredeger.”

“Adin. Please, Boaz, call me Adin.”

“Yes, sir. I shall do that.”

Adin rolled his eyes and left the man standing on the

sidewalk.

Once inside the crowded little diner, he caught sight of Tuan

first, in his dark suit and tie, reading the paper, and then, almost NOTTURNO
71

as if he existed in a completely different world, Edward. By

contrast to Tuan’s conservative attire, expensive watch, and the

round little glasses he wore that made him look like a well-built

Asian banker, Edward’s look screamed fetish from his head to

his toes. He wore Doc Martens under jeans that crouched

precariously on his luscious ass. Over that he wore a tight Sex

Pistols T-shirt, and a number of belts, chains, bracelets, and

visible piercings, which Adin knew to be the tip of the iceberg.

His skin bore the ink of a dozen artists. What never failed to

surprise and delight Adin, though, was Edward’s ever-ready,

sweet smile, which was just short of angelic.

Just then Edward was gazing at Tuan with the look of a

besotted teenage girl, and Tuan gave him an indulgent smile

back. Despite their differences, these two were the happiest

couple Adin knew. Tuan hadn’t noticed him yet and held the

newspaper up at an angle so he could kiss the delighted Edward

behind it.

Adin cleared his throat, and the paper came down to reveal

two red faces. “Guilty as charged, Adin,” said Tuan with a grin.

“You go. Wish I had one of those.” Adin sat down. Tuan

immediately signaled the waitress for coffee.

“One of what?” asked Edward.

“Someone who looks at me the way you look at Tuan.”

Adin fiddled with his napkin. He didn’t know why he said that.

It certainly hadn’t even been in the top one hundred things he

wanted until recently. “Been a while since I’ve seen you.”

Edward leaned over and kissed him on both cheeks.

“Missed you. Tell me about your manuscript, and we’ll

brainstorm. You don’t think Ned Harwiche? He was certainly

pissed when you outbid him.”

“Harwiche wouldn’t hire thieves; he couldn’t. His reputation

is everything to him,” Adin said, and Edward nodded. “If he

had it, sooner or later someone would talk, and then the

provenance of every piece he has in his collection would get

looked at under a microscope.”

72 Z.A. Maxfield

“You’re right; he couldn’t help bragging. He’d be locked up

within a week if he stole that from you. Besides, if he had

Notturno
, he’d have called me by now to gloat,” said Edward.

Tuan put his paper down. “I’ve heard something, although it

may be simple talk.” He watched Adin carefully.

“What?”

“I got an e-mail from an acquaintance last night, an Asian

friend who lives in Paris and does work similar to mine. She

said that something unpleasant was coming my way. She

warned me because she knows Edward is an art dealer. She told

me not to let him get between the parties involved. From what

she indicated, I gathered she was talking about
Notturno
.”

“What?” asked Edward incredulously. “You didn’t tell me

that.”

“You were asleep when the e-mail came in.” Tuan patted

Edward’s hand, stroking over the fingers gently. “She said that

three parties want that manuscript badly, and only one of them

will walk away.”

“That seems crazy,” said Edward.

“Not if it’s
Notturno
,” Adin told him. “It’s special.”

“It’s just a book,” said Tuan dismissively. Edward and Adin

both gasped, but he ignored them. “Anyway, apparently

someone in Italy was illegally prevented at the last minute from

bidding on the manuscript, and that’s contestant number one.”

Donte, thought Adin.

“And contestant number two isn’t so easy to flush out. It is

thought that he’s the one who relieved you of your book, Adin,

and that he has ties to organized crime. In fact, I can’t discern

why party number two wants the book, unless it’s to drive the

price up for the other parties, because recently there’s been talk

of a mystery man who just heard about the manuscript and is

moving heaven and earth to get it. It’s possible that the second

man relieved you of the book in Los Angeles to encourage a

bidding war between the first and third. I’m sorry. It’s all

hearsay and speculation right now.”

“How do we get it back?”

NOTTURNO
73

“You don’t.” Tuan looked tense. “You won’t. It’s asking for

all kinds of trouble. You never heard me say this, but file your

claim, Adin.”

Adin leaned over the table, absently rubbing his tired eyes.

“I can’t do that.” He toyed with his coffee. “I have photographs

of the pages that I made while I was at my sister’s lab. I read

some of it. I couldn’t sit by and watch it fall into obscurity

again.”

“What do you care? If you have the photographs, just read

it. Then it won’t be obscure,” said Tuan.

“Without the manuscript, there’s no proof that it ever

existed. It’s a huge find. I don’t want to give up this early in the game.” Adin looked at Edward, who nodded his understanding.

Tuan broke into his thoughts. “I think you’re making a

mistake, Adin. It’s not a game. I think you’d be better off to

let—”

Edward took Tuan’s hand and squeezed it gently. “How can

we help?”

“Edward, I don’t think—” Tuan began, but Edward put a

hand up.

“People who steal art can do only one thing with it, Tuan.

They have to hide it from the world forever or sell it to

someone else who will.”

“That cannot happen to
Notturno
,” Adin said. “I’m begging

you, Tuan. This is more than just my career. The man who

wrote that book is as real to me as you are. If the book

disappears, he’s gone forever, and along with him, the man he

loved. For a lot of different reasons, that’s not acceptable to

me.”

Tuan looked at Edward. “I’ll see what I can do. Check your

e-mail at intervals today. And take Edward shopping; he’s

bored.”

Edward grinned. “We were supposed to have the day off,

but
somebody
had to work at the last minute.” He stood as Tuan got up to leave. “Big kiss. You owe me a whole day in bed,

Tuan, and I’m collecting interest.”

74 Z.A. Maxfield

“See you,” Tuan said as he gathered his briefcase. “Be

prepared for disappointment, Adin. And watch your back. Party

number three may not know the manuscript’s been stolen yet.”

“Okay,” said Adin, just glad to have some kind of ally. “But

really, Tuan, I’m in this. I’m want it back.”

Tuan left, and Adin returned to his coffee. Edward stirred

his around idly. “Why this manuscript?”

Adin shrugged. “Even though I’d only roughly translated

about five of the entries, I was more than half in love with the

author.”

“Oh, Adin.” Edward sighed.

“I know.” Adin looked away. “It’s stupid, isn’t it? Like

falling in love with a portrait from another century. Have you

heard me talk about love, ever? Even once?” He idly watched as

a mother and daughter sat down together, laden with shopping

bags.

“It’s happened to me. I’ve been obsessed by portraits. Have

you ever seen
Portrait of an Artist
by van Musscher? I loved that when I was growing up. I also loved his painting
The Sinfonia
. I used to gaze at pictures of it for hours hoping it would come to

life.”

“I’m not having a hard time imagining that.” Adin smiled.

“When you read that book, don’t you do the same thing?”

Adin lowered his lashes, unable to look at Edward’s earnest

face. “I do.”

“Then it’s settled,” said Edward, looking at the check and

dropping money into the plastic tray. “We’re going to

Chinatown. I know just what you need.”

“Ah. Edward… I don’t know…”

“Trust me. You need this.” He took Adin by the hand and

led him outside. “How did you get here?” he asked, walking

through the parking lot. Boaz was parked on the side street, and

when Adin caught sight of him, he was leaning against the

driver’s-side door of the limo.

NOTTURNO
75

“Dr. Tredeger, sir. You said you would call me.” Boaz

sounded disappointed in him.

“My apologies, Boaz,” said Adin. “Our departure was

somewhat abrupt. Edward, this is Boaz. He’s my driver for the

day.”

“Cool,” said Edward, folding his long body to get into the

limousine. “Oh, gray leather, and me without Tuan, damn it.

Adin, would you mind awfully holding my phone camera on me

while I lie on this and…?”

“Yes. I would.”

“You’re no fun. Tuan was supposed to stay home today. We

were supposed to lie in bed all day and tell each other secrets.”

Edward was relentless. Boaz raised his eyebrows and the

privacy shield. In the end Adin recorded a video of Edward

jerking off to a Mendelssohn piece. The evidence was sent as a

file to Tuan’s iPhone, and by the time they got to Chinatown

they were laughing like children.

“Edward,” said Adin, perfectly relaxed under the hands of a

masseuse in the tiny spa. “This was a really good choice.”

“When we’ve been polished to a high shine, I’m going to

take you to an import store where they have special little resin

erotic statues of men doing the nasty in absolutely mind-

boggling ways.”

“My mind is not easily boggled, Edward.” Adin groaned

when the masseuse cranked an elbow down on a particularly

vulnerable spot in the middle of his shoulder blade.

“Wait and see.” Edward grinned.

They emerged from the spa two hours later, buffed, shiny,

and boneless. Adin felt more serene than he had since the flight

from Frankfurt and looked forward to a pleasant afternoon.

There was nothing to be done while Tuan checked into the

theft of the manuscript with his dubious resources, anyway.

After a brief walk, they entered a small incense-scented store.

Resigned, Adin stopped worrying and leaned over a brightly lit

glass case, looking at the tiny figurines there.

76 Z.A. Maxfield

“I was right, wasn’t I?” Edward asked from the other side,

looking through the case at him. “You’re boggled?”

“I wouldn’t say boggled, exactly,” said Adin, checking out a

particularly interesting piece in which two tiny Chinese

characters with queues held a third, suspended over a wide

piece of fabric, while he was being entered from behind by a

fourth. “Kind of puts a new spin on rock your world,”

murmured Adin, biting his lip.

“Aren’t they fun?” asked Edward. “When Tuan turned

thirty, I put them all over his cake.” He smiled. “I think they’re

cute. What I would really like to see is somebody who could

make them like wind-up toys. How fun would that be?”

Adin rose from his exploration of the case and indicated to

the shop owner that he wanted to buy. “I’d like to see this one

wound up. I’m trying to get the visual…”

Edward’s eyebrows disappeared behind the fringe of his

hair. “It’s probably best if you don’t.”

Adin grinned. “Says the man who jacked off in my limo.”

The sales clerk wrapped their purchases carefully, giving

each of them a small silk bag, and bowed them out. It was

about three in the afternoon when they left the store, and Adin

suggested they find somewhere to eat. They were walking down

Sutter, discussing the merits of one type of Chinese food over

another, when Adin felt the blood in his veins begin to speak to

him. Adin stopped walking and listened.

“What is it?” Edward asked him.

Adin looked around carefully. “I don’t know.” Adin had

experienced this sensation before and associated it with Donte,

but this felt different somehow. He saw nothing, even when he

turned again. “It’s nothing.”

“You look pale. Are you feeling all right?” asked Edward,

real concern on his face.

“I’m fine. Maybe I’m just not used to…” Adin heard the

voices then, in Spanish. Words he barely understood hissed