3 The Braque Connection (25 page)

I only had his silhouette and the tone of his voice to use for understanding his words. It was the slight modulation in his tone that made me take special note and catalogue that for later analysis.

“Before you go, please tell me what you gave Colin.” I needed to know what to tell the paramedics.

“Only a little Diazepam. Really, Genevieve. Your fascination with him disappoints me. It makes me feel more justified in the actions I’ve taken and will take.” He turned and walked to the door. “Don’t bother phoning the police. We’ll be gone long before they even get here. Spend the time enjoying my gifts.”

The weight of the object he had placed on my chest held me in place as if it weighed much more than it actually did. Kubanov walked through the doorway on unsteady legs. I watched him disappear into the next room and listened to his shuffling footsteps and a softer footfall going towards my front door. He and Dukwicz had the audacity to leave through my front door, closing it hard enough for me to hear. I didn’t know what to do. Were they truly gone? Was Kubanov waiting on the other side of my room until I got up to come back inside and shoot Colin?

I didn’t know how long I lay frozen in my bed, fighting off the panic that relentlessly pulled at me. The first movement I allowed myself was to let my hand travel under the covers to touch Colin. Relief made me exhale sharply as my hand came in contact with the warm skin of his side. He wore only pyjama bottoms to bed, something for which I was irrationally happy. I placed my hand palm down on his chest and waited. The first heartbeat I felt under my hand calmed me much more than I had expected. Feeling my hand lift as he inhaled was an equal reassurance.

I pushed the weight off my chest and scrambled onto my knees next to Colin, not taking my hand off his chest. “Colin? Wake up. Please. Wake up.”

It had been Kubanov’s dismissive tone that had made me believe him. He had not drugged Colin to prove a point, to make him suffer or to kill him. Colin was merely an inconvenience he had taken care of to reach his true target. Me. I sat looking down into Colin’s face until I felt bolstered enough to reach over him and turn on the bedside lamp.

My eyes had grown accustomed to the dark and the soft light was so bright, I squinted for almost a minute. It didn’t stop me from looking Colin over for signs of blood or other indication that he might have been hurt more than just an injection. My eyes adjusted and the healthy colour in his face told me he was indeed in a drugged sleep. At least I hoped so.

I got out of bed and ran to Vinnie’s room, calling out to him all the way. His room was empty. Kubanov had been right. Vinnie had gone out. I ran to the dining room table, jerked my handbag from the chair it was hanging from and took out my smartphone. My hands were shaking, but I was much more in control than in Hawk’s house. It took three swipes, one tap and three rings to have Manny on the line.

“What’s wrong, Doc?” Alert and professional.

“Kubanov was here. He drugged Colin. He was here. In my bedroom.”

“Where’s Vinnie?”

“He’s not here. Colin is drugged.” My voice was unsteady and I couldn’t help repeating myself.

“I’ll call the paramedics to meet me at your flat. I’ll be there in a jiffy, Doc.”

“Does that mean soon?”

“Very soon.” His voice had the quality of someone on the move. “Are you sure Kubanov is gone? Will he be back?”

“No, they’re gone.”

“They?” He lost the calm professionalism, raising his voice.

“Dukwicz was here too, but they left. I don’t think they’ll come back.”

“Where’s Frey?”

“In my bed.”

“Oh bloody hell.” It sounded like he was in his car. “Lock yourself in your bedroom with Frey and don’t open to anyone until you hear my voice.”

“I have a steel-reinforced door to my bedroom,” I said as I hurried back to my room.

“I know, Doc. Lock yourself in there. I’m on my way.”

The line went dead and I took the phone with me into the bedroom. I only breathed easily when I locked the heavy door separating my bedroom from the rest of my apartment. Ideally I would have preferred to move to my bathroom. It too had a steel-reinforced door. But I couldn’t leave Colin alone in bed.

I stood next to the bed looking at him sleeping peacefully. It was really hard to not give in to the strong compulsion to shake him until he woke up, then strip the bed and dispose of all the bedding. It didn’t matter that Kubanov had only sat on the duvet. Everything seemed contaminated. I got back onto my side of the bed, kneeling next to Colin. I placed both my palms on his chest as I called up Mozart’s Piano Concerto No. 24 in C minor.

In my mind I flattened a sheet of music paper, appreciating the beauty of five lines equally spaced to form a musical staff. The staves filled the page to create linear beauty, pleasing to my eye. I carefully drew a line down the sides of two staves, combining them for the first line for the piano of the first movement of the concerto. Drawing the G-clef always made me smile. In one movement of the hand, curl upon curl, an artful symbol emerged. For a few minutes I gave myself over to the solace of writing note after note.

Not much time could have passed when I opened my eyes. Manny wasn’t here yet. Within a few minutes my apartment was going to be filled with people, and I didn’t want to feel as vulnerable as I did. Already I felt more in control after mentally writing a few bars of Mozart. Getting dressed would add to that.

As fast as I could, I put on a comfortable pair of jeans and a top I felt confident in. Shoes inside my apartment would be inappropriate, but light socks added to my sense of shielding. Body language was not the only way we communicated nonverbally. Our clothes told volumes about us, our character, mood and intention. My intention was to create an impenetrable buffer around myself.

My gaze constantly strayed to Colin. Despite Kubanov’s reassurances, and Colin’s steady breathing and good colour, I was still concerned. Deeply concerned. As I got back onto my side of the bed, fully dressed, my knee bumped into something hard. Kubanov’s second gift.

At first, I pushed it out the way to put my hand again on Colin’s warm chest, simply to console myself. After feeling a few regular heartbeats under my palm, I looked down and picked up a statue that should have weighed much more than it did. My knowledge of artworks mostly extended to paintings, but I recognised this piece. It was a Costa Rican stone Sukia figure.

I twisted it around and studied it with my untrained eye, to which it looked like an exact replica. I looked closer, because it was made of a material I could not identify, most definitely not marble or any other medium usually used for statues. It felt like plastic.

3D-printed plastic.

Chapter TWENTY

“Oh, for the love of Pete, missy.” Manny sighed for the eighth time since he had ordered me to sit at the dining room table and allow the crime scene unit to check my bedroom for evidence. “Frey will be fine. He’s a hardy thief.”

I glanced at my bedroom door and saw a white-suited figure move to the other side of my bedroom. As much as I disliked this invasion, there was no malevolent intent. I could accept the presence of strangers in my home if it were to aid us putting an end to Kubanov’s taunting.

“That’s it. I give up.” Manny pushed himself up with his hands on my dark wood dining room table. The marks his hands left behind didn’t bother me as much as usual. I was going to clean my entire apartment in any case. I looked up to see Manny glowering down at me. “Come on, Doc. You’re so worried about Frey, I can’t get a word out of you.”

He was right. I hadn’t said much since I had allowed him, two paramedics and three crime scene unit members into my bedroom. That space was too small for all those bodies, and Manny had quickly escorted me out. But I wanted to be in my bedroom, making sure Colin was still breathing. The paramedics had assured me that his vital readings were normal, as if he was in a deep sleep. They had injected him with a mild stimulant and had taken another ten minutes reassuring me that he was going to wake up soon. I wanted to be there, so I followed Manny into my bedroom.

“Are you guys going to be much longer?” Manny asked the figure kneeling next to the bed.

A woman got up, her eyes wide. “I don’t know what you want us to look for. This place is immaculate. There isn’t even a speck of dust. It’s really amazing. Clean. Even under the bed. I could eat dinner there.”

On any other day, I might have thanked her for the compliment and dissuaded her from eating dinner under my bed. Not now. I walked straight to Colin and climbed on the bed again. I placed my hand on his chest and held my breath until I felt his heart beating under my palm.

“You should take the flowers,” I said without looking away from Colin. “Kubanov brought them in that vase. I don’t think it’s anything but flowers and water, but you should test it.”

“He brought you flowers?”

“And Dukwicz took all my clocks.” I had walked through my apartment on Manny’s request while the paramedics had been looking at Colin. The three clocks I had bought at separate auctions were the only items missing from my apartment. None of them were significantly valuable, but they had been mine. When I had seen the first one missing, I had known Dukwicz had given in to his obsession with timepieces.

“We’ll get them back for you, Doc.” Manny walked closer and glanced at Colin. “It just looks like he’s sleeping.”

“He is in a drug-induced sleep. That’s not the same.”

“I know, Doc. Tell me about the flowers.”

“He brought me those flowers and this.” The statue was on the bed where I had left it. I handed it to Manny, but he didn’t touch it. The crime scene investigator took it into her gloved hands and showed it to Manny.

“What the hell is this?”

“A Costa Rican stone Sukia figure.”

“What does it mean? Why did he give this to you?” Manny turned the investigator’s hand to look at the statue from different angles. He gave an impatient grunt. “I don’t know what I’m looking at. Take this with you to the lab.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Doc, did Kubanov touch anything else? Should these guys look for anything else?”

“No. I told you it was a waste of time to have the crime scene unit here.”

“They can take this and analyse it.” He looked at the investigator. “I don’t care what you have to do, but I want a complete analysis by noon. You have been sitting on the other statue as well. I need that ASAP.”

“Yes, sir.” She put the statue in an evidence bag. “If there isn’t anything else?”

“No.”

“Yes,” I said, gaining their attention. “Could you please take photos of the statue from as many angles as possible and email it to me?”

“Send it to me. I’ll forward it to Doc. You guys can clear out since there isn’t much else to find here.”

“Yes, sir.” She gave me a quick smile and left.

“Let me see them out and then we’ll talk. You need to talk to me, Doc.” He lowered his head to emphasise his words.

“I’ll tell you everything.”

“Good.” He left and soon all the voices in my apartment moved towards the front door. I jumped from fright when the front door slammed open with a loud noise. There was a moment of shocked silence.

“What the fuck is going on?” Vinnie was back. The aggression in his voice told me he was ready to attack. “Where is Jen-girl? Jen-girl! Colin!”

“In here, Vinnie.” I heard a grunt and assumed he had pushed someone out of his way. No sooner had I answered than he rushed into the room, a gun in his hand. I didn’t like it. “Why do you have that?”

He glanced at his hand and quickly holstered the gun under his t-shirt, at his back. “I thought I might need it. What happened? Are you okay? What’s up with Colin?”

“Kubanov was here. He drugged Colin so he could talk to me.”

Vinnie’s head jerked away from studying Colin to look at me. His eyes were wide, his mouth downturned. “What the fuck? Did he hurt you?”

“No, he gave me gifts.”

Manny came into the room carrying a dining room chair. He put it next to the bedside table at Colin’s side and fell into it. He glared at Vinnie. “Stop hovering like a mother hen and sit down.”

Vinnie dismissed him with a quick frown and leaned closer to Colin. “Is he okay?”

“The paramedics said he’ll wake up soon. He’s just sleeping.” I cleared my throat. “Vinnie?”

He looked up quickly at my soft tone. “What do you need, Jen-girl?”

“Would you please sit there?” I pointed at the exact spot Kubanov had been. If Vinnie sat there, he might replace the negative memories with his overpowering and caring presence. He sat down immediately. And he didn’t ask me why. It made me feel weak with gratitude.

“Where the bleeding hell were you?” Manny leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“Out.” The expression on Vinnie’s face as he turned his attention to me was pure contrition. “I should have been here. This shouldn’t have happened. I’m sorry, Jen-girl.”

“It’s not your fault.” I shook my head. “Kubanov brought Dukwicz with him.”

Manny sat up, rubbed both hands over his face. “Okay, Doc. Start from the beginning.”

I told them everything that had happened. It took me less than ten minutes.

“Okay, let me get this straight.” Manny was back to leaning his elbows on his knees. “You think Kubanov is sick, maybe terminally so.”

“Yes. I think he has cancer. The little I saw, he moved with difficulty as if he was in pain. He’s also lost weight. Angelique was right. He was bald, but I think it might be from chemotherapy.”

“Holy hell. This is not good at all.”

“Why not?” Vinnie asked. “Nature will take care of our problem for us.”

“Maybe, but on a psychological level I agree with Manny. It is a worrisome situation.”

“Why?”

“Because he has nothing to lose.” The thought made me feel cold inside. “That is the worst situation for him to be in. If he no longer cares about living to old age, he will become more careless in his action.”

“So? We can catch him easier.”

“Not necessarily. He might become careless, but he is still highly intelligent and systematic. The biggest problem is predicting his next steps. Our profiling didn’t account for that, which in hindsight explains the anomalies I had noticed.”

“Yeah, I can see how this is not good.” Vinnie shook Colin’s leg. “Wake up, dude. Come on.”

Colin didn’t react, but Vinnie persisted. He gave up after half a minute, concern contracting the
orbicularis oculi
muscles around his eyes.

“Tell me more about what he said, Doc.”

“I already told you everything word for word.”

“You did.” He nodded once. “Now tell me what you read into that.”

“Not much. I couldn’t see him very well.” The impatient look that flashed across Manny’s face made me talk faster. “But I heard changes in his voice as he spoke. Inflections not related to discomfort or pain, but rather emotion.”

“You can hear those?”

“I prefer to read expressions, but if I have no option other than speaking on a telephone, I need something else to understand hidden meanings. Our tone gives away the emotion motivating the words. To answer your question, yes.”

“What did you hear?” Manny waved his hand in an impatient gesture for me to speak faster.

“The first time I bested Kubanov, he lost a lucrative art forgery ring. He also lost face, his connections in Eurocorps—”

“—and the Russian House,” Manny said. The Russian House was a mansion in Strasbourg where I had first met Kubanov. It had been emptied by the authorities and locked down a year ago. “Last I heard, it was sold to a local developer and was set to be demolished. They had asked the city permission to build a small apartment complex. But that’s not important now. Continue.”

“Six months ago, we foiled his extremely well-strategized revenge plan. It was a lifelong dream of his to take a loved one from the president, just as he believed the president had taken from him.”

“Do you have a point, Doc?”

“I believe this time there will be no big far-reaching plot. In both the previous cases, the victims and intended victims had been numerous.”

“What are you saying, Jen-girl? Is Kubanov targeting you?”

“No. Yes. No.” I took a deep breath. “His voice carried very strong emotions when he talked about outthinking, outplaying and outsmarting me. Yes, I am his ultimate target. No, he will not kill me. He’s having too much fun giving me gifts and playing games with me. But I don’t know what or who his intended target is—who he’s going to use to get to me.”

“Oh, bloody hell, Doc. Not even a non-speculating speculation?”

“There is no such thing, but I understand your intention. No, I don’t know. Not yet. I do know that we are all in danger, but that was a safe conclusion from the beginning.”

“We’ll all be more careful from here on out.” Manny looked at Colin for a few seconds. “And what is it with Kubanov giving you that statue? Does it have any personal meaning?”

I took a moment to consider my answer. “Nothing I can think of. I’ll ask Colin when he wakes up. Maybe he has some personal connection or experience with the statue. Like the symbolic meaning of the statue from his safe house.”

All attention turned to Colin as his breathing increased and he groaned. It took him ten minutes to wake up sufficiently to make sense of his surroundings. I insisted on moving to the living area. It no longer felt right having this many people in my bedroom. Colin was a bit unsteady on his feet, but made it to the sofa by himself, Vinnie hovering nearby and Manny frowning in irritation. It took another ten minutes to update Colin on everything that had taken place.

“And you are sure it was the Costa Rican Sukia?” he asked. His voice was becoming clearer the longer we spoke. The initial slowness of his speech was gone.

“Yes, but the material it was made of was strange.”

“Here.” Manny shoved his smartphone into Colin’s hand. “I took photos of it. The crime lab will send us better shots, but this will give you an idea.”

I was yet again impressed by Manny’s thinking. Often he portrayed the image of someone not paying attention and definitely not thinking ahead. That was not true. He had known Colin would want to see the statue.

“Yes, this is the Sukia figure.” Colin tossed the phone to Manny, who caught it with an annoyed grunt. “The statue he gave me had significance. What is the association with this statue?”

“You don’t have any connection to it?” I asked.

“Nope. I’ve never even been close to the original. This is an amazing piece of pre-Columbian art, but not very valuable. Tell me more about the feel of the statue.”

“I wasn’t paying a lot of attention to the statue.” I had been too worried about him, and about the fact that Kubanov had been in my bedroom. “But it wasn’t heavy like a marble or bronze statue of that size would be.”

“Maybe plaster?”

“No, it felt more like plastic, but I didn’t get the sense it was hollow.” I looked at Manny. “You should tell the crime lab those statues might have been printed.”

“What is it with all this 3D-printed crap?” Manny asked. “Aren’t these printers supposed to be quite temperamental?”

“Very,” Vinnie said. “It is technology with great potential, but often an object being printed goes belly up… um… terribly wrong. The result is a big mess of plastic strings. One guy calls it plastic pasta. Depending on the design, the printed objects can be very fragile while in production. Sometimes the print head might touch an already printed part while readjusting and knock it out of place. That means hours of printing lost. And a lot of plastic.”

“How long does it take to print, say, that Suk-something statue?” Manny asked.