A World Without Secrets (11 page)

At lunch time I strolled over to Philly's China town. I looked for a restaurant that seemed busy, then waited for a table. I couldn't complain about slow service when I'd intentionally sought out the busiest restaurant, but the food was usually worth the wait, which turned out to be true.

Following lunch I walked to the Department of Licenses and Inspections on JFK Boulevard, just across the street from City Hall, and spent more time researching and then buying photocopies.

When I returned to my motel room after dinner, I placed the gizmo on the wall and again spent hours working the case, making detailed notes about the robbery in my laptop.

The next day was dedicated to conducting the interviews Captain DeRosa had arranged. The guards' kids were in school, but their wives were there and listened to everything that was said without interrupting. I remained true to my word and was as discreet as I could be.

My final morning in Philadelphia was spent watching events on the gizmo once again, a task I could have performed in New York, but I wanted to prolong my presence in Philadelphia. Before leaving the city, I visited the museum again, mainly to put in an appearance but also to reinforce the basis of my investigation. I asked to see Captain DeRosa and was escorted to the security office.

"Hello, Mr. James," the security guard captain said as I entered the office.

"Hello, Captain."

"My people tell me you were most cordial during the interviews. They say they never felt intimidated or threatened in the slightest. Thank you. Do you have good news for us?"

"Not yet, but I do have one or two more questions if you don't mind?"

"Fire away."

"As I understand it, the pictures were cut from their frames after first being taken down from the wall?"

"Yes, that was the assessment."

"But aren't they attached with some kind of locking mechanism? Or were the locks broken?"

"In this case, there were no special locks. We installed the same hanging system the Von Waggermanns use so there would be no need to make changes to the frames. But it's a standard system, and anyone can get a removal key. The main purpose is to make sure tourists can't get the pictures down quickly or easily, or knock them down accidentally. The alarms and cameras are the main preventative measures against theft."

"How is the schedule for making rounds established?"

"Here's a copy of our most recently replaced schedule," Captain DeRosa said as he dug into a file drawer and handed me a sheet of paper. "As you can see, the times between rounds and the patrol routes vary so no one can predict when a guard will be in any one area."

"Thank you, Captain. That's all I need for now."

"You'd tell me, wouldn't you?"

"What do you mean?"

"If you had something."

"Right now I'm just reconstructing the crime in my mind. Every piece has to fit exactly, like a big jigsaw puzzle. I'm searching for anomalies. It might have been easier if I'd been here right after the robbery, but I can do it this way. It's just a little slower sometimes because people's memories dim."

"Still think you'll recover the paintings?"

"I'm more confident than ever."

* * *

I spent Saturday morning writing up my report to the insurance company. I was finished by noon and happily spent the rest of the afternoon working on my latest novel. I called Kathy just after dinnertime.

"Hi, Kathy. How did the grand opening go?"

"Wonderful. I thought you might drop by."

"I couldn't. I was in Philadelphia."

"Philadelphia? Working on the art theft?"

"Exactly."

"Did you make any progress?"

"I learned quite a few things. I'm going to go see Kovacs this coming week."

"I'm glad you got back safely. Some thieves may specialize in stealing artwork, but it doesn't mean they're nice people."

"Can't be any worse than the murderers and drug dealers I've looked for while skip tracing."

"I still can't believe you do that."

"It's true."

"I know. I meant that it just seems so out of character. You're such a sensitive and caring person. I guess I think of bounty hunters as knuckle-dragging brutes."

"That's just an unfair stereotype. Are you busy tomorrow?"

"No."

"Good. Want to spend the day with me?"

"I'd love to. What shall we do?"

"I thought we'd start off with a morning walk in the park and then take in a matinee."

"Okay. What time?"

"I'll stop by your place at ten."

"It's a date."

* * *

On Monday morning, I called William Kovacs' office. I was surprised to get put through immediately.

"Good morning, Mr. James. How was your trip to Philadelphia?"

I immediately realized that Captain DeRosa must have called Kovacs to check my credentials. "Good morning, Mr. Kovacs. It was very— informative. Captain DeRosa was most cooperative."

"Good. What can I do for you today?"

"I was wondering if you had some time today. I'd like to drop down and see you."

"It's a bad day, James. I'm free for periods this morning, but I'm going to be tied up in meetings all afternoon. I can't possibly cancel any of them."

"I could make it there this morning if you can spare me just ten minutes."

"Well— okay. But not a second more. Not today."

"Fine, I'll be there within the hour."

I hurried out of the house and flagged a cab at the corner. In twenty minutes from the time I had hung up the phone I was entering Kovacs' outer office. His secretary asked me to have a chair and I waited for twenty-five minutes while several people came and left Kovacs' office. It wasn't so bad though. I got to enjoy the spectacular curves of a twenty-something blonde who was the antithesis of the dumb blonde stereotype. Her desk was one of those minimalist modern pieces of furniture that left most of her body visible. I almost felt like I was cheating on Kathy, but we didn't have an established relationship, and I was only
looking
at a fully clothed body. I fully expect that I will continue to look at, and appreciate, beautiful women until the day my body reaches room temperature. At least I hope so. I don't consider myself to be sexist. I just have a healthy attraction to the opposite sex. I was almost sorry when I was finally told that Kovacs could see me.

"You've got ten minutes, James," Kovacs said as I walked to his desk. "It's all I can spare today. So tell me what's on your mind. Did you learn something in Philadelphia?"

I knew he was expecting a non-committal response, so I said, "Something? Why— I learned
everything
, Mr. Kovacs."

The smile slowly faded from his face as he tried to determine if I was joking. "Are you saying you located the paintings?"

It was my turn to smile now. "I learned the method, the identity of the thieves,
and
the present locations of both the paintings
and
the thieves."

"That's not possible. You've only been working on it for a week."

"How long is it supposed to take?" I said with a perfectly straight face. "I could come back in a few months."

"If this is a joke, James, it's not funny."

"No joke. I dropped by today to see what a check for one point four mil payable to me looks like."

Kovacs stared at me in silence for several seconds before asking "Who did it?"

"First things first, Mr. Kovacs. I'd like a letter from you stating that when the paintings are recovered, I receive the promised amount. You pick up the artwork; I pick up the check. Next day. Not thirty, sixty, ninety days, or a year later."

"We're a major company, Mr. James. We have the money. You don't need a letter."

"I know the company has the money, Mr. Kovacs, or I wouldn't have taken this case. I just want to make sure that
I
get it. My first skip case taught me a valuable lesson. I offered a lowball price of only a
thousand
dollars just to get my foot in the door. After delivering the felon and saving the bail-bondsman a hundred thousand, he tried to give me only five hundred. He said that I had
misunderstood
our verbal arrangement. I realized I didn't have a legal leg to stand on without witnesses to the promised amount or a written contract. We're talking about a sum of money considerably larger than that one, and I don't have a reputation for art recovery. After we've done business a couple of times, I'll start to trust your word, if it's good."

Kovacs sat down and looked up at me. He was probably a little insulted that I didn't just take his word, but then he was a security specialist and knew that trust is something that has to be earned. Realizing that he wasn't going to get the information without the letter, he called in his secretary to take some dictation.

In ten minutes, I was holding what I wanted in the language that I wanted. I was promised to receive a check for one point four million dollars within twenty-four hours of the paintings being recovered and authenticated as genuine
if
my information led directly to their immediate recovery. After tucking the letter into the inside pocket of my coat, I withdrew the large envelope containing the report I had prepared and handed it over. Kovacs tore it open and read the report quickly, then started over again and read it slowly.

"You're sure of these facts?" he asked after the second read.

"Almost one hundred percent. Some of the scenario is conjecture based on deductive reasoning, but I guarantee the location of the artwork, which is what you're most interested in. It's up to the cops to build the law's case on the theft. There were no witnesses, so you may only be able to get one of them for possession of stolen goods, unless one or more crack and confess to the robbery."

"How can you guarantee the location of the artwork?"

"I can't tell you that. Or rather, I won't tell you that. But the paintings are where I say they are." I had prepared myself for that question. I wanted my response to give the impression that I had committed criminal trespass, so I couldn't admit to having seen the paintings.

Kovacs stared at me for a few seconds, then picked up his phone. "Cindy, cancel all my appointments for today and tomorrow. Then arrange for a car to take me to the copter pad and a copter to take me to the airport. Then book me on the next shuttle flight to Philadelphia. Wait— book two tickets to Philadelphia. Mr. Colton James will be traveling with me." Kovacs hung up the phone. "I thought you'd like to be there when we recover the paintings."

"I don't have a change of clothes with me."

"We'll be back tonight if the paintings aren't there. If they are, you can afford to buy an Armani suit every day and discard the used one, but we may be back anyway. I wouldn't be running off like this, but I contacted Harris and Adams when I got the call from Philadelphia. They told me you were some kind of combination Sherlock Holmes and Houdini when it came to finding skips. We'll find out if your talent extends to artwork."

Four hours later, we were at Philadelphia Police Headquarters on Race Street, standing in the office of Detective Captain Stinburn. Kovacs had called Captain DeRosa and asked him to meet us there, not giving any other information.

Where DeRosa looked like an infantry commander, Stinburn looked like a tired cop just waiting for retirement. He was pleasant enough though.

"Mr. Kovacs," Stinburn said, "you expect me to get a search warrant for this house based on Mr. James' word alone that the paintings are there?"

"Mr. James has a
perfect
record of delivering what he goes after, Captain. His description of how the crime was perpetrated and by whom is entirely logical and well within the realm of possibility. I think it should be investigated. My only interest is the recovery of the artwork. The arrests are up to you."

"What do you think of this, Captain DeRosa?" Captain Stinburn asked.

"I'm opposed. I don't believe these people could possibly be involved. I know each of them personally. They don't have it in them to pull off something like this."

"Well— it does manage to fit in with this department's belief that it was an inside job. Okay, I'll call a judge and try to get the search warrant. Wait for me outside, please."

Kovacs, DeRosa, and I left the office to give the police captain privacy for his call. There was a coffee machine down the hallway and we each drank a cup of some truly awful coffee as we waited. Where DeRosa had been friendly towards me before, there was a very definite atmosphere of frost between us now. I understood. His people were like family to him, and he wasn't yet willing to believe they could have committed this crime.

It took ten minutes for the captain to arrange for the warrant and set up the operation. We were then escorted to several police cars that were waiting to take us to the house where the paintings were secreted.

After knocking on the door failed to produce results at the house, a powerfully built police officer put his shoulder against the door and pushed. The sound of cracking wood was accompanied by inward movement, and it only took a few seconds to locate the cellar stairway. A crowbar opened the locked door by destroying the frame around the lock with one good push, and we descended into a totally empty basement.

"Well, Mr. James," Captain Stinburn asked, "Where's this
secret
room?"

Pointing to the wall on the north side of the house, I said simply, "There."

It took several minutes to find the latch that allowed the wall section to swing out.

"Son of a bitch," DeRosa exclaimed, causing Kovacs to push his way to the forefront and grab the five sealed containers discovered behind the wall.

When Kovacs eagerly opened the first of the containers there was a slight whooshing noise, indicating the containers were vacuum-sealed. Kovacs withdrew the first painting with great care and unrolled it part way.

"It's the Van Gogh," Kovacs said. "We'll have to have them examined and authenticated, of course, but I believe these are the stolen paintings, Captain Stinburn."