The Flinck Connection (Book 4) (Genevieve Lenard) (14 page)

We moved to the team room and found the round table empty.

“Where is my food?” Manny looked at Colin. “I was hungry.”

“What are you looking at me for?” Colin leaned back. “I didn’t steal your food.”

Manny snorted. “But you did go and steal that clock.”

“It was to help this case.” Colin shook his head once and stepped closer to Manny. “You know what? I’ve had enough of your distrust and your disrespect, Millard.”

The subtle changes in the body language of both men made me realise there was much more going on here. I thought back over the last seven weeks, once again berating myself for not having paid close enough attention. Also for hoping they would sort this out themselves. The more I thought about the body language I’d observed in them, the more I recalled Manny’s discomfort hidden under layers of annoyance.

“Manny, what did you do?”

“Why do you think I did something?” Manny didn’t back away from Colin, but he was not his usual confrontational self.

Colin laughed after two tense seconds. There was no humour in his short laughter. “You’re not going to tell her, are you? You’re a coward, Millard. Scared that your precious Doc is going to lose respect for you because of what you did.”

The anger in Colin’s tone and on his face was unfamiliar. I surprised myself by stepping closer to Colin and putting my shoulder in front of him, putting myself between him and Manny. I studied the older man for only a few seconds to see the contrition on his face. “Oh, Manny. What did you do?”

Colin’s chest pushed against my shoulder. “Yes, tell her, Millard.”

Manny rubbed the back of his neck. “I placed listening devices in Frey’s car and in his phone.”

“You what?” Vinnie stood up from where he was sitting and stepped into Manny’s personal space. He looked at Colin. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

“Because Francine asked. She knew you would’ve beaten Millard up and that would upset Jenny. She, we, didn’t want that.”

“She’s in on this?” Vinnie’s voice raised a few tones.

“She was the one who found those bugs.”

“Why would you do that?” I asked Manny. Watching the anger and true distrust between these people I had come to care for felt like something was strangling my heart. I sought for calm and rationality.

“To find something to arrest me. What else do you think, Jenny?” Colin’s tone was heavy with rage, his body trembling slightly from controlling his temper. “When Francine found those things, I took them to him, threw them on his table and asked him to explain. He didn’t. No explanation, no apology, nothing. After all this time, the arsehole still wants to put me in jail.”

Manny’s micro-expression belied that assumption.

“No, he doesn’t. There’s more to this situation. Tell us, Manny.”

The room was unnaturally quiet. Nobody moved and everyone’s body language was hyper-alert, ready for action. Phillip was quietly observing, but even his body language had changed. He was frequently glancing at me, concern around his eyes.

Despite Manny’s deception abilities, I could see the decision-making process in his micro-expressions. Finally, he stood taller and pulled his shoulders back. He looked Colin in the eye, unflinching and open. “Have you ever given thought to why it was so easy to find those bugs, Frey? I’ve been in this game a long time. It would’ve been easy for me find out all your dirty little secrets without you ever knowing that I was listening or watching.”

Colin couldn’t control his slight jerk of surprise.

“Manny?” I lowered my voice in the same way I did when I tried to calm Nikki. “I can see that there is a lot of nuance happening here, but I’m not able to catch it. Please explain this to me.”

Manny closed his eyes for a second and shook his head. There was regret in his downturned mouth and in his eyes when he looked at me. “I’m sorry about this, Doc. I also didn’t want you upset.”

I raised both eyebrows, my mouth slightly agape. “You argue with me all the time. You upset me all the time. How is this different?”

“Because this is not work, this is friendship.” Phillip looked at Manny. “Explain yourself.”

“Apart from the president and a few top people at Interpol, no one else is supposed to know Frey is working for the good guys.” Manny had let go of his usual slouching and deceptive behaviour. His nonverbal cues were open and genuine. “I don’t know how or why they got this
intel, but a task force at Interpol knew of my association with Frey. They asked me if I could get some dirt on him and everyone he came in contact with. I told them that he’s my confidential informant and that I wasn’t going to spy on him, but they got their boss to order me to do this. I went to the top guys and they told me to do this. They needed it to look as if Frey was still on the wrong side of the law.

“I told the task force that Frey’s team is the best and whatever surveillance we planted, they’d find it and it would warn them that someone was watching. These idiots were willing to take the risk and that’s when I put those bugs in the most obvious hidden places possible.”

“How long were they there for?” I asked.

Manny snorted. “Seven hours. All they got was Frey talking sweet to some woman. That would be you, Doc. They also got Frey ordering some old books. At first they thought it was a theft or some code, but then realised it—”

“—was none of their business,” Colin interrupted. “Why didn’t you just talk to me about this? You could’ve explained to me when I brought you those bugs.”

“How did you know they were mine?” Manny lowered his chin and looked at Colin from under his brow.

“I didn’t. I had a suspicion and your reaction when I confronted you confirmed it. God, I was livid. I still am.”

“No, you’re not.” I turned to Colin. “Your skin is no longer flushed, your vocal cords are relaxed, making your voice… You don’t want me to continue.”

Colin closed his eyes and sighed. When he opened his eyes, he looked resigned. He took my hand in his and squeezed. “You’re like the un-secret keeper.”

“That doesn’t make sense.” I turned back to Manny. “You’re a liar. And you have double standards.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I said, you’re a lia—”

“I heard you the first time, missy. Explain.”

“You expect of us to not make decisions without consulting you first. We’re not allowed to take any action unless you know about everything at all times. A concept I find ludicrous in its impracticality.” I leaned a bit closer towards Manny. “Yet you never consult with us. You make executive decisions and expect us to follow blindly. I’ve been reading up on teamwork a lot since we started working together. You’re not a team player. You’re also not a team leader. You are a dictator, according to my books.”

There was a moment of silence before laughter filled the room, breaking most of the tension. Manny didn’t laugh. He looked insulted.

“She’s got you there, old man.” Vinnie chuckled as he returned to his seat at the table. “Dictator. Hah.”

Manny was glaring at me and I returned his stare without flinching. I waited, knowing Manny needed time to process what was happening. Soon enough contrition flitted across his face. “You really think I’m a dictator, Doc?”

“No, I don’t. It was an extreme statement to make you think about your behaviour. Nikki often uses hyperbolic speech and I thought I’d try that. It worked.” I cleared my throat to return to the topic. “I do, however, think that you have double standards by expecting our trust, but not returning it. I know you trust us, but you really should show more faith in Colin, Vinnie and Francine. Nobody will think less of you when you consult or even ask advice from people who are often involved in criminal acts.”

Manny shifted and rolled his shoulders. “Point taken, Doc. Now I think we should eat.”

“Well, then,” Phillip said and turned to the door. “Sit down, I’ll find the food.”

We sat down and after a third deep breath, Manny straightened in his chair. “I really got your point about the teamwork, Doc. I’ll try.”

“Aw.” Vinnie leaned closer to Manny, wincing at the movement. “Wanna hug it out, old man?”

“Don’t push it, criminal. I’ll break all your other ribs.” He looked at Colin. “Next time I’ll speak to you. And maybe supermodel. She can help us set something up for those task force idiots.”

Colin nodded. “She would love putting one over on them.”

I wasn’t naïve enough to believe that all was forgiven and forgotten. Or that Vinnie was as amicable as he tried to appear. I knew Colin was going to take time to trust Manny again. But this was a good start. A few minutes later, Phillip returned with Tim. Both were carrying trays laden with steaming plates of food. Chinese food was one of my few indulgences. I had a hard time rationalising how I was so obsessive about never eating in restaurants, yet this one Chinese restaurant was acceptable to me. Not only did their kitchen pass my frequent inspection, but the owner was a rude Chinese woman who didn’t tolerate mistakes, not on her menus, services, food or delivery. A few times I had seen waitresses in tears.

“I hope you guys don’t mind that I took the food while you were working.” Tim placed plates in front of each person, impressing me with his memory of everyone’s specific order. Mine was still in its box. Only once had he erred by not allowing me to inspect the box and content before dishing it up. With a smile, he put the box in front of me and a white plate to the side. “I thought you would be busy for some time and that I’d heat it up when you were done. You were faster than I’d thought.”

“Thanks, Tim.” Phillip sat down and waited until the younger man left with both the trays. “
Bon appétit
.”

The small talk during our meal bored me and I thought about the case. I wondered where Francine was and what information she was going to bring back.

“Doc?” Manny put his knife and fork loudly on his empty plate. Everyone had finished. I looked down at my plate and sighed. I had no recollection of eating all my food. I also placed my cutlery on my plate and waited for Manny to continue. He was frowning. “Have you by any chance been able to trace the ten million euro from the Dignity Foundation’s accounts?”

“I’ve been busy with Savreux’s finances. I told you yesterday Francine would be better at tracking that money.”

“But she’s not here, is she? I need to know how Savreux, Motte, that ten million and the Foundation all fit together. But I really want to know where that ten million came from.”

“That’s quite a long list of things you want to know, handsome,” Francine said as she walked into the room. Despite
her corrective makeup, the tiredness around her eyes was evident. “You know you just have to ask and I’ll give you everything your heart desires.”

There was something more to her banter. I stilled and studied her. She was in exceptional good humour. Maybe she had found that source she had mentioned earlier. I wondered if she had slept at all in the last twenty-four hours.

“Where have you been, supermodel? You should’ve helped Doc find out where all this money came from.” He nodded at my viewing room.

“What money?” She walked to the open seat next to me and sat down.

“I found anomalies in the Libreville Dignity Foundation’s finances. There are significant deposits that we should trace.”

“I’ll get on it later.” She took an excited breath, her shoulders shuddering. “We are so going to celebrate later on, girlfriend. I’ve found treasures. Loads of treasures.”

She took her tablet out of her buttery soft brown leather bag and connected it to the system. “Today was a good day, my friends. My favourite lipstick was on sale, I flirted with a police officer, then I flirted with her partner—who was a man—and I hit pay dirt.”

“There is so much wrong with what you just said, I don’t even know where to begin,” Manny said.

“Begin with telling me how much you adore me.” She straightened and dramatically waved at the large screen against the wall. “Ladies and gentlemen. I present to you Minister Claude Savreux’s home videos.”

I never went to the cinema. Knowing that cinema seats hosted not only staph and diphtheria, but also colonies of faecal matter, was not conducive to relaxing and enjoying a film. But there was more to my intense dislike for cinema theatres. A cinema custom I found both an auditory and olfactory offence was popcorn. The smell clung to one’s clothes like smoke in a club. The sound of hands seeking for more popcorn in the box, followed by loud crunching had resulted in a very short first and only cinema experience for me. I had gone home, washed my clothes on the longest cycle possible and had taken a hot, disinfecting shower while listening to Mozart.

At present I was seated in the team room at the round table with four people each holding a large bowl of popcorn. Upon hearing that Francine had located and accessed the cloud account where Minister Savreux had been storing the footage recorded from the clock camera, Vinnie had run out to find Tim. As if Phillip’s assistant didn’t have enough work-related tasks to do, Vinnie had convinced Tim to order popcorn from a nearby independent movie theatre. I pressed my fists into my thighs as Vinnie forced another handful of popcorn into his mouth. We’d just had lunch. Where did they find the appetite?

Their micro-expressions of genuine pleasure were the singular reason I was restraining myself from putting a stop to this utterly inappropriate and unprofessional behaviour. Vinnie, Francine and Colin’s lives were complicated. They moved in circles where they had to be on full alert at all times. It was seldom that I saw them partaking in a simple activity that gave
them such pleasure. Most often it was Colin and Vinnie watching wrestling matches on my large-screen television. The earlier tension and confrontation was no longer present. Even Manny was happily eating the popcorn Tim had handed him. The young assistant had quickly pulled back the bowl of popcorn offered when he had seen my expression.

“Where shall we start?” Francine asked. She wasn’t going to share with us where and how she’d located the files. Manny’d accepted that it was more important that we had these recordings. As soon as Francine had found them, she’d only looked at a few clips to confirm that these were the video files we wanted. Without looking any further, she’d rushed to the office, knowing we would want to see it straightaway. There had been hundreds of files in no particular order. While Vinnie had ordered the popcorn, Francine and I had organised the recordings according to date.

“We should start with the last entry.” I thought that made the most sense. “We might be able to see who killed Minister Savreux.”

“Good idea, Doc.”

I bit down on the insides of my lips not to reprimand Manny for talking with a mouth full of popcorn. I wished they’d hated popcorn as much as I did. I sighed, dismissed my fanciful hopes and focussed on the video that was starting on the screen.

The video gave a surprisingly wide view of Minister Savreux’s home office. I estimated that only fifty or so centimetres from the door into the room were not visible. The areas directly in front of the shelves where the clock had been were also not visible, but I didn’t think it was more than twenty centimetres. The room looked exactly like it had when we had been there, with the exception that Minister Savreux wasn’t lying on the floor dead.

“Pause it, Francine.” I leaned forward. Something had registered in my mind, but had not yet worked its way to my cerebral cortex, the thinking brain. I had an exceptional memory and having studied the crime scene photos had solidified the exact decor of this room in my mind. Then I saw it. I jumped in my seat and reached for Francine’s tablet. “Can I have that, please?”

Francine handed me her tablet. It had been a pleasant discovery that Francine and I used the same viewing software. It made it easy for both of us to work on footage that the other provided. I ignored the questions asked past the popcorn and zoomed in on the wall above the fireplace. It was the wall to the right of the camera and it was at an angle awkward enough to complicate the viewing. I wasn’t interested in the ornaments on the mantelpiece. It was the painting above the mantelpiece that had caught my attention. I zoomed in on that and knew I had been right.

“Oh my God, Jenny! You found it.” Colin put his bowl of popcorn on the table and walked to the screen against the wall. “Can you do anything with the angle?”

“What are we looking at?” Manny also put his popcorn on the table. “What is it with the painting?”

“It’s not the painting that was there when we entered the house.” I cropped the image of the painting and started manipulating it to alter the angle.

“That painting was a Rembrandt.” Colin didn’t take his eyes off the screen. “As I’ve told you before, Flinck’s paintings were so close in style that plenty a scholar had confused his work with Rembrandt’s. The painting that was above the fireplace when I got there was a Rembrandt. Not a Flinck.”

“Is this a Flinck?” Vinnie asked. He didn’t put down his bowl of popcorn.

I finished manipulating the image and used a few basic tools to sharpen the image.

“Not
a
Flinck, Vin.” Colin stared at the screen, his mouth slightly agape. “This is
the
Flinck. This is Flinck’s Landscape with an Obelisk that he painted in 1638.”

I found a clearer photo of this painting on the internet and placed it juxtaposed to the manipulated screenshot from the video. It was a dramatic landscape typical of that era. The intensely lit obelisk was under swirling clouds, the strong contrast in light and shadow adding to its atmosphere. In front of the trees on the right was a figure on a horse, talking to another person. A stream separated them from the obelisk, a small bridge crossing to the other side.

“This is the bloody painting stolen in Boston?” Manny straightened in his chair. “Where is it then? Why wasn’t it there when we got there? Doc, start playing that video, so we can see what happened to it.”

I closed the photo manipulation programme and tapped on the tablet screen to resume the video. Colin sat down next to me, leaning towards the screen. Three seconds later, Minister Savreux walked into the room. His shoulders were slightly lower than they should have been. When tired or upon receiving bad news, our shoulders and heads usually drooped. The opposite could also be seen whenever people received good news. Whether Minister Savreux’s posture was from being tired or having had a particular problem, we would never know.

He walked straight to the serving table with the liquor in crystal bottles and poured himself a generous amount of alcohol in a tumbler. He finished all of it and immediately poured another liberal helping. While walking to one of the chairs, he pulled his tie away from his collar and undid the top button. He rolled his neck and sat down heavily on the chair facing the door.

For a few minutes he did nothing but stare into space and sip from his glass. Then he shuddered and turned his gaze on the Flinck. The
orbicularis oculi
muscles around his eyes contracted. He shook his head, put the glass on the coffee table next to his chair and rolled up his sleeves. From one second to the next, his relaxed posture changed to caution and finally to fear. He did not move from his position on the chair, but every muscle in his body was tensed as if ready to jump to action.

“What are you doing here?” Savreux was looking at the door. The intruder must have been standing in the doorway.

“You know why I’m here.” That voice. I would recognise it anywhere. I shuddered and tapped on the pause button.

“It’s Dukwicz.” The contract killer we had been spending months looking for was right there on this video.

“Thought so too.” Manny’s lips were in thin lines, his brow lowered and in deep wrinkles. “Good thing there’s sound. We might get a lot from this. Play on, Doc.”

I tapped the touch screen. The fear intensified on Savreux’s face.

“Why? At least tell me why.”

“You of all people should know I’m not interested in the why. I agree to the contract and execute the job. That’s it.” A small chuckle sounded. “Pun intended.”

“Is there any way I could persuade you to not do this?” Savreux swallowed a few times, his voice at a higher pitch. “I have a lot of money. I can give you millions of euros. You’ll never have to work again. You can have anything you want.”

Dukwicz’s laugh was loud and cruel. “The money is only a bonus for me. I’m doing this because I enjoy it, not because it pays well. And it gives me such great street status. Anywhere you mention my name, people are scared. Do you really think I’m going to risk the reputation of going soft? For money?”

He laughed again and walked deeper into the room. The camera caught him at a diagonal angle from behind. I could see one side of his face, not enough to accurately read his facial expressions. But it was enough to make a positive identification.

Minister Savreux jumped from the sofa and ran to his desk. A logical conclusion would be that he had a weapon in his desk that he was trying to reach. Dukwicz was faster than him. He reached Savreux in three long steps, brought a garrotte over the minister’s head and jerked the shorter man against his chest with the thin cable to his throat.

Minister Savreux reached for his neck and tried to get his fingers under the garrotte. In the struggle, he scratched open his skin, but didn’t stop. It took forty seconds before his struggles became more sluggish. It felt like hours. All this time Dukwicz balanced himself on both legs, his physical strength clear as he easily kept control over Savreux.

I knew I wasn’t going to watch this particular part of the video again. The genuine smile that lifted Dukwicz’s cheeks and formed wrinkles in the corners of his eyes was very disturbing. Here was a man who found joy—real joy—in killing another human being. Minister Savreux eventually went slack and Dukwicz lowered him to the floor, his tongue between his lips. People did that when they felt they had been victorious. Or that they had gotten away with a deception or manipulative action. Dukwicz was getting away with murder.

“Holy hell.” Manny’s soft whisper was the only sound in the team room.

From the crime scene I knew what was going to come next, and decided I didn’t want to watch it too closely. I looked at my fisted hands on my lap and concentrated on relaxing my fingers until my hands were resting flat on my thighs. I glanced up to see Dukwicz raising a medium-sized knife and plunging it into
Savreux’s chest. Immediately I dropped my eyes to my hands again, but the wide-open eyes, dilated pupils and the smile on Dukwicz’s face were imprinted on my mind.

Belief in religion, myths, unseen elements and Francine’s aliens was not based on rational thinking. I didn’t believe in good and evil. Each person was the result of a complex set of elements, including their gender, upbringing, psychological makeup, brain chemistry and numerous other influential factors. The people sitting around the table had taught me more about emotions than my many years at university studying psychology. They had taught me that not everything could be quantified. This was giving me the freedom right now to mentally categorise Dukwicz as evil.

“It’s done.” Colin took one of my hands in his and squeezed it gently. I looked up and watched Dukwicz wipe the blade on Savreux’s shirt before putting it into a scabbard on his belt. He took a deep breath, smiled and looked around the room. As his eyes moved towards the camera, the clock, I waited for the change. I wasn’t disappointed. The moment he saw the clock, his eyes flashed open and his mouth opened slightly. It was pure pleasure from looking at an indulgence that gave him great contentment.

He stepped over Minister Savreux’s body and walked towards the camera, not taking his eyes off his goal. On his way across the room, he pulled off his bloody gloves, pushed them into his pants pocket and from the other pocket took out a new set of gloves. He put on the gloves and stopped in front of the clock, his expression similar to the simple joy on Vinnie’s face when he saw Francine after a weekend away from her. The image on the screen became distorted when he stood in front of the clock, too close for the camera’s auto-focus to function properly. The image shook and shifted, indicating that he picked up the clock and turned it this way and that to look at his one weakness.

The erratic movements stopped and slowly turned. Then we saw the room again as before, with a minor adjustment to the left when Dukwicz didn’t replace the clock in its exact original position. He stepped towards the door, his brow lowered and his head tilted slightly to the side as if he was straining to listen. He must have heard something, because his facial expression changed again to one of sadness as he looked at the clock with longing.

Dukwicz moved in utter silence to the door, disappeared for a second and returned with a large backpack. From it, he took a painting and rested it on the sofa.

“Bleeding hell, it’s the Rembrandt.” Manny again spoke softly as if to not disrupt the viewing.

In economical and sure movements, Dukwicz took the Flinck from the wall, replaced it with the Rembrandt, put the Flinck in the backpack and rushed to the curtain-covered windows. He pulled one curtain just enough to allow him to step behind the heavy drapery. It was a slow and measured movement, and the curtain settled in two seconds, completely hiding Dukwicz from view.

Three seconds later Colin stepped into the room. I took a sharp, involuntary breath, horrified at how close he had been to that evil man.