2 The Dante Connection (15 page)

“How did you find out his name?” I asked, excited. “We should tell Manny.”

Everyone laughed. The mood around the table lifted slightly.

“Doofus is slang, Jenny. It means fool or stupid person.”

“Oh.” I thought about this. “I like it. Doofus. I think I’m going to use it. It’s not offensive, is it?”

“Well, you are calling someone a fool, so in that sense it is,” Francine said. “But there are a lot of fools out there.”

There were a few chuckles and we fell silent. My mind was sorting through all the data. “Colin said that Kubanov likes symbolic gestures. Is he the one behind the painting, the email and the bomb? If so, how do they connect to him? How do I connect to him? How do I connect to the hacker?”

“The hacker read all your articles,” Francine said.

“But that proves nothing other that he might be a student,” I said. “There must be another connection.”

“Did you ever say anything controversial in your articles?” Francine asked. “I read a few of them, but there were some things I didn’t understand at all. Most of it though sounded solid to me, not offensive at all.”

“What about that professor?” Colin asked.

I shook my head. “No, that is too silly. Such a petty thing? No. If you read my articles, you’ll find some that were much more strongly worded than that one. I looked at them yesterday and sent Manny a list of peers who might have been angry with me because of an article. It is nigh-on impossible to predict someone else’s sensitivity to facts presented in my articles that might contradict their views.”

“But you did it.”

“Of course. Manny ran those names against some system looking for criminal activities and not one of them has had any suspicious behaviour.”

“Recorded suspicious behaviour,” Colin said with one lifted eyebrow. I immediately caught the hint.

“Granted. But these are academics, Colin. These people theorise and teach, they are not violent, bomb-building criminals.” My hand gestures were becoming more animated as I talked.

“You never know what can push a person over the edge, Jen-girl.”

“Send me that list,” Francine said. “I have ways to look for criminal connections that Manny’s guys don’t have.”

“Maybe you should share your ways with Manny’s people. It will help them catch bad guys,” I said. The succession of micro-expressions on her face told me that I had erred. Greatly. “You think they will use it against you and all other citizens in some great conspiracy to control us all? Really, Francine. That is too far-fetched. Even for you.”

“I stick with my far-fetched theories and you can stick to yours.” She lifted her nose just enough to ensure I noted her superiority. I smiled. After a second she also smiled. “Give me that list and I’ll check it my way.”

“I’ll email to you.” I tilted my head to the side. “Why don’t you just hack my computer and take it?”

“Because I’m not going to invade your privacy like that. I only hack to protect, not to steal from you. Whatever you give me will be of your own free will.” Her focus on me changed. I recognised that look. I had seen it a few times when we had had lunch, but always dismissed it as misplaced. Not anymore. The caring, concern and friendship displayed on her face stole my breath. “We’ll find these people, these connections and Kubanov, and keep you safe, Genevieve.”

Instinctively I wanted to deny needing help and being in danger. I thought about it for a split second and grew cold. I had to focus to not allow my mind to go into hiding. “This is about me, isn’t it? Somehow the focus of all of this is on me. Why? What have I done?”

“If it’s Kubanov, I can imagine that he’s pissed off with you for fuc… screwing up his very profitable art-forgery business, Jen-girl.” Vinnie straightened in his chair. He glanced at Colin and renewed determination tightened his lips. “We’re going to get that bastard and make sure nothing bad happens to you.”

“Assuming that he is the one behind the email, bomb and painting.” I groaned. “This is all still crude speculation. Just because there were daffodils at these crime scenes does not mean that Kubanov is behind this. Sure, it implicates him, but we have no concrete evidence. There are too many disconnected pieces of information. I have to find what connects all of them to me.”

“Do you have any ideas?” Colin asked.

I stared at him while thinking. With a shrug, I shook my head. “Nothing, just more speculation. The only so-called connection I have with Kubanov is the case we had last summer. From what we know, the art forgery ring was only one of many avenues he deals with. The gun connections we found then can lead us to the possibility that he also deals in arms. If we follow this trail and generalise, most likely he also deals in drugs. Who knows what else? So, why would one arm of his extensive illegal business make him angry enough to do something to me?”

It was quiet around the table. In their postures and eyes I could see they knew the answer as well as I did. “Psychopaths do not take well to losing. Losing face is a very strong trigger, it prompts them into all sorts of revengeful actions. Do you think he wants revenge?”

“We won’t let him get close to you, Jenny.” Colin lightly touched my hand.

I looked down and realised that I was gripping the table with both hands as if I planned to pull it closer. It took concentration to relax my hands enough to let go. I slid my hand out from under Colin’s and rested it on my lap. One by one, I relaxed my tense neck, shoulder and back muscles.

A ping from a phone brought some tension back. I frowned.

“That’s your phone, Genevieve.” Francine sat up in her chair, looking excited. “When I secured it, I also set up the alerts to let you know whenever you receive emails. That way you’ll always be on top of things.”

“Why would I always want to be on top of things? Oh, never mind that.”

I reached for my handbag that Colin had hung over the back of my chair. It was not hung on the correct side of my chair and my handbag was not facing the right direction, but it was better than having my handbag in a wrong place. My smartphone was in its usual pocket, easy to reach. I tapped the screen and saw the notification icon. The technology pleased me. The accessibility into every waking moment of my life, not so much.

“I have a new email,” I said and tapped on the screen to open my inbox. “Oh. Oh, no. It’s another email from the postal service. There’s another package in my mailbox.”

Colin grabbed the phone out of my hands and looked at it as if he could see what was inside the package by merely glaring at the touchscreen. “What the fuck is he playing at?”

“I’ll go get it. Jen-girl, can I have the keys again?” Vinnie got up and held his hand out to me. The scar on his face was standing out against the red anger in his face. His hand had the slightest tremor, caused by a rush of adrenaline. The flaring of his nostrils indicated faster and deeper breathing. He was preparing to take action, violent action. The intimidating large man hovering over me made me feel safe and I was glad that he was on my side.

I reached into my handbag again and took the keys from its own designated side pocket. Holding the keys just above his outstretched hand, I looked at him, hoping to convey my intense sincerity. “Be careful.”

“Always, Jen-girl. Always.” He closed the keys in his fist and looked at Colin. “Dude?”

I only caught the end of Colin giving Vinnie an almost imperceptible shake of his head. Again with the secrecy.

“Okey-dokey. I’ll be back in a few.” Vinnie didn’t state whether it would be a few minutes or hours and I didn’t ask. I wasn’t particularly excited about receiving yet another mysterious package. He could take his time. Unless…

“What if it’s a bomb?” I started getting out of my chair to stop Vinnie.

“Don’t worry, Jen-girl, I’ll make sure it’s not.” He gave me a quick smile, opened the door and left.

“Does he have one of those bomb sniffer machines?” I asked.

“Or something like that.” Colin’s cryptic answer told me that whatever testing device or method Vinnie used was most likely not legal. My shoulders dropped a little at yet another gray area, void of simple black and white rules.

“I’m going to check what else I can find,” Francine said and got up. “I will find this doofus. Before the weekend is done, I’ll have him. I swear.”

“That would be a step closer to finding out what this is all about and who is involved,” I said.

Francine nodded. “Let me know when Vinnie comes back. I want to see what is in that package.”

I didn’t. I truly did not want to see what was in that package. With an elegant wave, Francine left for the apartment next door. Colin and I sat in comfortable silence and I started assessing.

Now that this case had become personal, finding new clues held none of the usual excitement for me. What I was feeling was dread. It was an emotion I was intimately acquainted with. My whole life had been ruled by it. Dread that I had forgotten to lock all the doors, that I would have an episode, that I would have to be socially appropriate, that people would shun me. I was tired of this feeling.

Chapter FOURTEEN

“I’ve got it.” Vinnie’s voice boomed with excitement as he walked through the front door. “I think it’s a book. Actually, I’m pretty sure it is.”

I stood up from my crouched position in front of the dishwasher. Vinnie was halfway to the kitchen. A shudder worked its way through my body. “Stop. Go back, close and lock the door. Then you can bring that package.”

Vinnie glanced at Colin lounging in the living area, then smiled at me. “Sorry, Jen-girl. I’m just excited about our next clue.”

I turned on the dishwasher, folded the dishcloth carefully to align all the corners and hung it exactly in the centre of the small railing on the wall. Vinnie might be excited about the new clue, but I wasn’t. I resented everyone and everything for bringing more dread in my life. That included the brown paper-wrapped package Vinnie was clutching in his hand.

“Secured?” Colin asked as he got up and followed Vinnie to the dining room table.

“Checked it nine ways to Sunday,” Vinnie said as he placed the package on the table.

I didn’t understand his words, but his body language told me that the package held no physical threat. For a moment I stood undecided in the kitchen. Anger at my irrational emotions propelled me to action. I grabbed a pair of latex gloves from the dispenser next to the sink and walked to the dining room table. “Why didn’t you open it? Can you make positively sure it is safe without opening it?”

“I have ways.” Vinnie’s posture and tone told me to not inquire about his ways. “When I put it through the x-ray, I saw it was a book. Open it, so we can see what book it is.”

The package looked innocent as it lay there on the table. I only looked at it, not touching it. “This is most likely the book that will be the key to the code on the bomb.”

“And we won’t know for sure until you open it, Jenny.” Colin studied me for a few seconds. “Do you want me to open it?”

I almost begged him to. But I was stronger than this fear, stronger than this book.

I put the gloves on, reached for the book and sat down in my chair. As with the painting, the book was wrapped in layers of brown paper which I carefully took off. Maybe Manny would want to send this in to the labs for testing as well. Not that I had confidence that they were going to find any evidence.

I placed the last layer of paper on the pile in front of me and studied the book in my hands. Gold embossing on the leather cover brought home the significance of this book. I took a quick breath and looked at Colin. “It’s Dante’s
La Vita Nuova
.”

The muscles in his face contracted to give me a glimpse of the micro-expression seen especially in victorious athletes. “I was right. Damn.”

I turned it over. “It looks old.”

“It looks really old.” Colin sat down in the chair next to me and moved in close to look at the book. “Open it, let’s see what it is.”

I lifted the cover. Only because I was already prepared for something disturbing did I not gasp in horror. On the first page was a dried, pressed flower. A red daffodil.

“Do you still doubt that Kubanov is behind this?” Colin asked, ignoring Vinnie’s string of inventive curse words. Vinnie sat down hard in the chair across from me and glared at the book.

I lifted the flower and carefully placed it on the table. “Unless someone else has a fixation on red daffodils, it makes for a conclusive argument that Kubanov sent me this. But why? Wait, don’t answer that. It is an unproductive question.”

I carefully paged through the book. At a later stage I would go through it much more studiously, but as it was, I didn’t see anything else out of the ordinary. Returning to the front of the book, I scanned the first pages.

“Why this book?” Vinnie asked. I didn’t answer him. I didn’t know the answer.

Colin put on latex gloves and held out his hand. “Let me have a look at it.”

I handed him the book and sat back.

“Seriously, dudes. Why this book?” Vinnie was becoming impatient with our lack of response.

Colin continued to flip through the book. “Well, Vin, the obvious answer would be the book’s connection to the painting.”

“Yeah, well. I didn’t study history and literature and all that crap. Care to tell me how this all fits in?”

“All that crap, huh?” Colin looked up from the book to smile at Vinnie. “Okay, here is the super-condensed version of
La Vita Nuova
. Dante Alighieri saw this girl, Beatrice, when he was around nine years old and she was a few months younger. He fell in love with her, and until her death at the age of twenty-five had a love relationship with her that mostly existed in his head. It was this almost obsession with her that made him write this book, a combination of poetry and prose. All revolving around this girl and his unrequited love for her.”

“Creepy, dude. Especially for a kid.” Vinnie shuddered.

“Well, he wasn’t a kid when he wrote this. He must have been in his late twenties. Much later in his life it is said that he was embarrassed about having written this. Most of this book is about his feelings every time he had laid eyes on her and his intense desire to just hear Beatrice greet him. Both of them got married to people arranged for them. She died really young, like I said. It was after her death that he wrote this book.” Colin lifted the book. “It is filled with more angst and melodrama than a Brazilian soap opera. After Beatrice’s death, Dante became very interested in literature, philosophy and politics. Quite an intense guy.”

“It is also much later that he wrote his more famous work, The Divine Comedy,” I said.

“Correct,” Colin continued. “There are three parts to The Divine Comedy:
Inferno
, where he starts his journey in the underworld with another poet,
Purgatorio,
where he ascends from hell, and
Paradiso,
where Beatrice takes him through the nine celestial spheres of Heaven. In the last part he imagined that Beatrice was his guardian angel who both encouraged and reprimanded him in his search for salvation. Throughout The Divine Comedy Beatrice represents love and hope.”

“Way over my head.” Vinnie waved his hand over the top of his head. “So how does this connect to you, Jen-girl?”

“I have no idea. None of my personal history correlates to this story. My only connection to Kubanov is last summer’s case. The only connection Francine has been able to find to the hacker was that he read my articles. I honestly don’t know how all this connects.” I was typing a bit too aggressively on my keyboard and pulled my hands back into fists. “For days I’ve been trying to figure it out, but I don’t have enough data.”

Colin waved the book at me. “We have one more thing.”

“Let’s see if this holds the key.” I opened the computer file containing the sets of numbers left on the explosive device. “Vinnie, will you write this down?”

Vinnie reached for the notepad next to my computer. I snatched it back. This was my notepad. Only I wrote in it. I got up and took out a new notepad from a stack in one of the kitchen drawers. His smile was knowing and full of affection when he took the pad from me.

“Thanks, Jen-girl.” He lifted an eyebrow. “May I have a pen or pencil?”

I handed him one of the three pens neatly aligned next to my laptop and ignored his broadening smile. “Ready?”

It took us half an hour to use the Ottendorf cipher. I gave Colin the numbers, he searched for the page, line and letter and Vinnie wrote it down. It was a slow process. I was sure that I could count the lines and letters faster than Colin, but surprised myself with restraint and patience.

“Tapping your foot isn’t going to make this go any faster, Jenny.” Colin glanced at my feet. Apparently I had not been as successful at hiding my frustration as I had thought. “T, that is the last letter. What do we have, Vin?”

Vinnie’s face contorted into a look of consternation. He touched his nose and shook his head. “Ghurdoapv… oh, hell. I can’t even say this crap. It’s no word or words I’ve ever seen.”

He shoved the notepad across the table. I lifted it and studied Vinnie’s surprisingly neat printed letters. He was right. It didn’t make sense. Colin tilted the notepad to also have a look. I let my mind search for the possibility of words within this scrambled mess, but nothing came to me.

“Put it in a search engine,” Colin said.

“Brilliant idea,” I said. Colin dictated and I placed all the letters in the Google search bar. I pressed enter. Almost immediately a page popped up suggesting other words, asking if that was what I had meant. Google couldn’t find anything with those letters. I wasn’t surprised.

“Maybe it is a code within a code.” Colin was still staring at the notepad.

“Or maybe the dude used words and not letters,” Vinnie said. “None of those numbers in the code is higher than eleven, which is the average number of words per line in a book like this.”

Colin and I stared at Vinnie. These men had taught me so much in the time I had known them. Maybe one of the most important lessons was that looks could be immensely deceiving. Vinnie might look like a thug, but he was a perceptive, intelligent man.

“That’s great, Vinnie. Let’s start again.” It took us another half an hour to get the specific word on the specific line on the specific page. Again it was tedious. This time I managed to not show my impatience.

“‘Very’,” Colin said. “The last word. Okay Vin, what do we have now?”

“Nonsense. Again.” He groaned and shook the notepad. “It doesn’t make sense, but here it is. ‘Day upon yours off light she he work throw in mine growth seen being cream stand hear a very’. See, total fucking nonsense.”

“Let me see that.” I took the notepad from Vinnie and stared at the words. This was a repetition of our previous attempt. It didn’t make sense at all. Mentally I scrambled the words, but could not form any intelligent sentences with what was so neatly printed on the cream paper. “This is not the key.”

“Are you very sure, Jenny?” Colin leaned in again to look at the notepad. I handed it to him. He moved back, but not much.

“The verb, noun and preposition combinations won’t work in any form. I will continue to try, but I’m sure this isn’t it. There is something else.”

It grew quiet around the table.

“I have to phone Manny,” I said. Again both men reacted to the name with the slightest tension. Weary of this behaviour, I took my phone and went to the living area. Manny answered on the second ring with a sound that might have been a grumbled greeting.

“I got another package.” I sat down on the sofa.

“And you collected it without letting me know. You’ve opened it too, haven’t you?”

“Yes, why wouldn’t I?”

“Because the last package lured you to a bomb!” The last word ended on a yell. I heard him breathing deeply a few times, most likely trying to calm himself. “What was in the package?”

“A book. There was also a red daffodil in the front of the book. We used the code, but so far had no luck. It is not the letters or even words.”

“Did you touch everything? Most likely. And now it will be even more difficult to get fingerprints and trace evidence.”

“Manny.” I spoke louder than usual to stop his tirade. “I opened the package and handled the book wearing gloves. You can have the paper, but for now we still need the book. I need to figure out this code.”

Manny grumbled something that might have been rude, but I couldn’t hear clearly. “Put that paper in a new plastic bag and don’t touch it again, for heaven’s sake. I’ll come around tomorrow mid-morning to pick it up and take it to the lab.”

“I don’t have a plastic bag. I recycle and o–”

“Just put the bloody papers in something clean that has not been touched or contaminated before. I’ll see you in the morning.” He abruptly ended the call. Sometimes I was ecstatic that Manny had entered my life. That way I knew that I was not the person least skilled in social interaction and telephone etiquette.

“I’m going, Jen-girl. If you guys need me, just holler.” Vinnie gave me a sweet smile before he left and closed the front door behind him. I got up and locked it. All five locks.

Colin was still sitting at the dining room table. I walked to the kitchen. A cup of camomile tea would be good.

“Manny said he’ll be here tomorrow morning to pick up the papers.” I filled the kettle with filtered water and switched it on. “Maybe they can get some fingerprints or something off it.”

“Did he say anything about the painting? Did they get any prints off that? Any trace evidence?”

“He didn’t say and I didn’t think to ask. You can ask him tomorrow morning.”

Again I saw the subtle change in Colin when it came to dealing with Manny. I made two cups of tea, not even asking if Colin wanted any. I placed it on coasters on the table and went back to the kitchen. I returned with a bottle of aged whiskey and two tumbler glasses. I sat down next to him.

Colin looked at me with raised eyebrows. “What’s this?”

“I know that some people need alcohol to give them courage. It’s called Dutch courage. Other people need it to relax a bit before a difficult conversation. I thought you might want or need this.”