A World Without Secrets (37 page)

My next effort was to locate the artwork again. I found it in a small van parked in Bordeaux with the paintings sealed inside what I hoped were airtight containers. Obviously the thieves hadn't made contingency plans in case the first hiding place had been discovered or become unavailable. They must have been going crazy trying to figure out how I'd known about their hidden vault. Going back to when the van had arrived, I saw that it had been driven by the man I'd established as the ringleader. After locking the van, he had gotten into a car driven by the thief who had helped him build the wall that concealed the vault. At this time I wasn't interested in where they were headed, so as they drove off, I moved on to other events I wanted to watch.

I went back and watched as the washroom assassin escaped from the police ward in the Amsterdam hospital. He'd had an accomplice on the inside who started a fight with an orderly down the hall from the prison ward. It drew the only policeman on duty away from his station. Another accomplice had then freed the assassin and given him some clothes. Both then disappeared into the night. I didn't bother to track them. I was well aware of where my attacker would be a couple of weeks after his escape.

Lastly, I watched the attack on me. It was not my finest moment, and I looked a bit ungainly as I dove for the floor. I looked positively foolish when I got tangled up with the chair and had trouble getting my shots off, but it turned out well. The washroom assassin was dead and I was alive, although a bit shot up.

I knew I would have to wait until the thieves found a new place to secret the artwork before I could claim victory in solving the case, so I would rest up and let my injury heal. The pain was mostly gone, so I began walking a little more each day to stretch the muscles. That caused some of the pain to return, but I believed that not stretching the muscles would be worse, and the stitches holding the furrow closed looked a little better each day as the redness and swelling disappeared. I would have a scar, to be sure, but that could be addressed later.

When next I checked, the van containing the artwork was parked inside a garage next to a home. Actually, it was more like a barn than a garage, but it was remote enough to ensure minimum danger to locals if the police moved in. I continued to look in every day, and the van and artwork never moved again. I wanted to finish up the case and go home, but I knew I couldn't do anything until the artwork was stored somewhere. While it was in the truck, it could disappear in a minute. If the gang had any informants who had contacts in the police, they might get enough warning to be long gone before the police arrived at the barn.

Madrid was a beautiful city and Spain a lovely country. I hoped that someday I could come back with Kathy, but I felt as though I had worn out my welcome for the present. I decided I could just as easily wait in the nice B&B I'd found in London as at a B&B near Madrid. I had gotten permission to leave the country, so the next day I took the trains back to London.

Mrs. Stokes welcomed me back to the B&B and gave me the same room I'd stayed in previously. It was almost like coming home. When Mrs. Stokes asked about my cane and limp, I told her it was nothing and that I'd be fine in a couple of weeks. Just being somewhere where I understand the local language went a long way towards making me feel more comfortable.

I promised myself that when I returned home I would invest in a couple of those foreign language courses that teach enough to hold a basic conversation. It seemed that most of the people I'd met on the continent spoke either French or German in addition to their own language, so I'd concentrate on those. When Kathy and I visited Europe together, I wouldn't feel so isolated everywhere we went.

I spent a full week recuperating at the B&B in London and then decided to go back to Amsterdam. With the two assassins dead, I hoped it would be a safer place. I intended to take the early ferry, so I handled my goodbyes the night before. I thanked Mrs. Stokes for her kindnesses and promised her I would never stay anywhere else in London if she had a room available.

The taxi driver fought traffic all the way to the Liverpool Street Station, but I assume he was used to it and he did get me to the station in time to purchase a ticket and make the 6:38 departure time. Once aboard the train I settled down and tried to relax after the hectic hour. I decided that if I ever made this trip again, I would definitely take the evening ferry.

The train arrived in Harwich right on time, allowing plenty of time to purchase my ticket to Hoek of Holland and get aboard the ship. Since I was taking the early ferry, I chose not to take a cabin and would sit in one of the lounges for the trip across. I wished the weather was a little nicer because it would have been great to spend the time out on the deck, but it wasn't quite spring yet and still a bit too cold.

I found what appeared to be a comfortable overstuffed chair next to a large window, so I removed my winter overcoat and settled in. I figured I should have a great view of the North Sea seascape and shipping traffic once the ship left dock.

I had been sitting there for about fifteen minutes, feigning indifference to passengers around me who I judged posed no threat, when I heard a voice from behind and to my left ask, "Is that seat taken?"

I turned my head and saw one of the sexiest women I'd ever seen outside of a Victoria's Secret advertisement. I estimated her age at about twenty-two or twenty-three and her height at about five ten in her stockinged feet, but she was wearing heels that would have made her appear taller than myself if I'd been standing. I knew that most runway models were young and tall, so I reasoned she might very well be in the fashion trade. She had already removed her coat and her skin appeared as flawless as a china figurine. Glistening ebony hair that reached her waist fell loosely over her left shoulder and covered part of the dark-blue designer evening dress straining to contain world-class breasts. Her bright ruby lips looked soft and inviting, with just a touch of gloss. I could probably have continued describing her to myself for another ten minutes.

I'd always thought of myself as moderately handsome, and thanks to the five months at Quantico, I was in the best shape of my life, but I had never been what was called a chick magnet. Of course, the recent improvement in my financial condition had allowed me to upgrade my wardrobe considerably. I no longer bought off-the-rack suits, my shoes were the best quality available short of being custom made, and I had splurged on a Bulgari Diagono Professional Diver's Watch after my last art recovery. Although Rolex watches were supposed to be water resistant, and probably were, the water-resistant-to-a-hundred-meters claim that came with my watch had eased my mind following my swim in the Amsterdam canal. And I preferred the action look of the Bulgari over the dinner-and-opera look of the Rolexes.

"It's available," I said, trying not to pant.

She smiled at me as she eased herself down into the chair facing mine. I noticed that she even sat down in a sexy manner. "I'm Mia," she said in a deep, sultry voice that would make most men do anything to please her as she removed her elbow-length, black-leather gloves. While most of the chair sets in the lounge had a small table between them, this set was at the end of the room and next to a bulkhead. The tighter spacing didn't leave enough room for a table and made conversation more intimate.

"Hi, Mia. I'm Colt."

"You sound like an American."

"I am."

"I'm Greek, but I've spent a lot of time in America. It's such a wonderful country. My own country is experiencing so much hardship and turmoil these days. I haven't been back there in several years."

"That's a shame. Economic difficulties seem to run in cycles. Perhaps the recession in Europe will begin to ease soon and the turmoil will die down." I paused as I considered the structural lines of her face and guessed at the color and texture of her skin beneath the makeup by using her ears as a reference. "Your skin color is very light for a Greek."

"I'm only half Greek. My mother was born in Estonia. Father met her while on business there. He was in the shipping business and was in Tallinn for negotiations to acquire a shipping company where my mother worked. He bought the company and my mother became one of his employees. When he returned to Greece, she went with him as his wife."

"Are your brothers in the shipping business?"

"I have no brothers or sisters. I was an only child. How about you?"

"I have no siblings, and my parents died in a car accident."

"So sad. We are both alone. My parents died in a plane crash eight years ago. Since then I spend all my time traveling. I was in Austria a couple of months ago for the skiing, and then I went to Lisbon to warm up a little. I love the sun, but I have to be careful because I burn so easily, and the sun can really damage your skin," she said, giggling at something, perhaps a memory of something that had happened in Lisbon.

As a conversationalist, Mia was both interesting and incredibly easy to talk to, traits that were usually indicative of a considerable intellect. I couldn't believe it when the announcement system informed us the ship was preparing to dock. The hours had disappeared like seconds. We had talked about anything and everything but really nothing. I didn't really know very much more about her background than I had learned in the first few minutes after we met. Oh, I knew superficial stuff, such as where she liked to stay when she traveled and what kinds of foods she most enjoyed, but little of substance except her ethnic origins, that she was an orphan, and how her parents had met and eventually died. I didn't know where she'd been schooled, who had taken care of her after her parents died until she was of age, and what she expected to do with her future.

As I've always said, I will continue to appreciate the beauty of women until the day I die. And I understand when a woman appreciates the beauty of males. It's just human nature. I enjoyed looking at Mia, and it signified no disrespect to Kathy. Kathy had a different kind of beauty. She didn't have the runway-model look but rather the wholesome look of a mother and life partner. Most importantly, she was the woman I hoped to spend the rest of my days with. I had no intention of sleeping with Mia and didn't pursue an avenue that would lead to that.

"It's been wonderful meeting and talking with you Mia," I said as the ship lurched slightly and the sound of the engines began to diminish rapidly. "I hope we meet again sometime."

"Are you headed for Amsterdam?"

"Uh, yes."

"Then would you like to have dinner with me? I'm staying at the NH Barbizon Palace. It's on Prins Hendrikkade near Zeedijk."

Believing the ship was docked, I stood up. Mia apparently took her cue from me and stood as well. As I'd originally speculated, her high heels made her about an inch taller. Standing up at the same time left us with just inches between us.

I didn't think dinner was a good idea, but I didn't know how to get out of it gracefully. "I don't know where that is. This is only my second trip to Amsterdam."

"It's practically part of the Central Train Station, it's so close," she said. When she moved, I felt her breasts brush against my suit coat. "It faces the station from across a canal. Any taxi or limo driver knows the way. Where are you staying?"

"At the Hotel Pulitzer on Prinsengracht."

"That's a very nice hotel." The way she said it— in that deep, sultry voice of hers— made it sound like a sex palace, or perhaps I was just imagining it."I stayed there once. It's less than a kilometer from the NH Barbizon Palace. I believe we should arrive in Amsterdam about seven o'clock, so shall we say— nine o'clock at my hotel?"

I guess the boat hadn't previously completed docking because it suddenly seemed to impact something. Mia flew into me, and as I fell backwards I grabbed for the arms of the chair to arrest my fall. We wound up with her lying on top of me, her arms around my neck and our faces less than an inch apart while I held us suspended above the chair. I could feel her chest against mine and her hot breath on my lips.

Suddenly, she smiled and leaned in the last inch to plant her lips on mine. They were the softest I'd ever kissed. I had been trying to keep from falling completely into the chair and was now effectively prevented from asking her to try to stand up. But at the same time, I didn't want her to stand up. Her perfume was enticing me to stay like that forever, and her lips were sealing the deal.

But all good things must end, and when we realized that other passengers were looking at us strangely, Mia pulled back, giggled, and pressed her hands against my chest to get upright. Once her weight was off me, I was able to regain a vertical position. But we were still toe to toe.

"It's so nice to meet a strong, tall man," Mia said quietly. "It was what made me come over to sit by you. So many men are like midgets compared to me when I wear heels."

"You're taller than me right now."

"But only because of my shoes," she said as she pulled on her gloves. "And men like women to wear high heels. People say they make a woman's legs look longer and more slender, so even though they are supposed to be bad for our feet, we wear them out of vanity."

"I admit that I like high heels on women."

"Then I shall wear my tallest heels to dinner tonight. Help me with my coat, darling."

The 'darling' threw me for a second, but I'd met a number of women who liked to talk in a familiar way, even with strangers they'd just met. After I helped her, I pulled my own overcoat on.

"Shall we go?" she asked once she had her coat buttoned.

"Uh, sure," I said as I extended the handle on my suitcase and pulled it over so it rested on two of its four wheels. "You don't have any luggage?"

"I sent it on ahead using an overnight delivery service. That's why I'm dressed this way. This is the dress I wore to dinner last night. All I have with me is a change of underwear. My clothes should be at the hotel already."

"That's convenient."

As I started to walk towards the lounge entranceway, Mia fell in alongside me on my right and slipped her arm beneath mine. I wasn't altogether comfortable with the high-speed familiarity, but I attributed it to her lifestyle of jet-setting around the globe and from, as she'd said, living life for the moment.