A World Without Secrets (10 page)

"We'll see, Mr. James. We'll see." Kovacs walked away, probably thinking that was the last he'd hear from or about me. Imagine a bounty hunter thinking he had the skills to solve a major art theft.

Kathy had been watching the conversation from the other side of the room. When I returned, she said, "What was that all about?"

"Just asking about a job."

"You want to sell insurance?"

"No, I want to find the missing paintings from the Philadelphia heist."

"You what?"

"I'm going to find the missing paintings."

"Colton, don't be silly. By the way, how come you never told me you were a bounty hunter?"

"Because of the look on your face when you learned."

"What look?"

"Like I'd just strangled a box of new-born kittens as you looked on."

Kathy stared at me for a few seconds and then said calmly, "That's only because you caught me so off guard. I knew you as a computer expert who had turned to writing. I never would have expected you to take up bounty hunting."

"I prefer skip tracer. I did it because even aspiring authors have to eat and pay the rent. I can earn enough money doing skip tracing part time to support myself very well, and I can keep writing."

"What's 'very well'?"

"My last job took two days and paid me ten thousand dollars."

Kathy was clearly surprised. "Ten thousand dollars for two days' work?"

"Not a bad payday, eh?"

"But it's dangerous."

"Not the way I work. I just find the people and then let others take them into custody."

"But even the investigation can be dangerous."

"Not so much. A lot of it's done on the computer."

"You can find people using a computer? Even dangerous people?"

"Well, the information I gather gives me the leads."

"And now you think you can find the missing paintings using your computer? Google won't be any help with this."

"I expect all my— electronic resources— to be helpful."

Kathy shook her head. "You're an amazing man, Colton James. I'd just begun to think I had you figured out. Now you surprise me with this. I hope you have a lot of that ten thousand left. I don't think you'll be collecting the reward for the paintings. The FBI and trained art recovery experts who have spent their entire lives investigating crimes like that haven't been able to find them."

"Perhaps I have something they don't."

Kathy laughed. "Perhaps. Are you hungry?"

"I only had time to stop and grab a potato knish at a new deli over on West Houston Street earlier today. I'm famished."

"So am I. I was so nervous about this security check that I couldn't eat. But now I feel wonderful."

After saying goodnight to everyone, Kathy and I left by the side entrance and walked a couple of blocks to a restaurant that served until 3 a.m. on weekends.

I didn't rise until noon on Sunday. After dinner with Kathy on Friday evening, I took her home to her apartment on the Upper East Side. She invited me in for coffee and one thing led to another. Her earlier prayer, and mine, that everything would go well was answered because I wound up spending the night. Rising late on Saturday, we took a long walk in Central Park and then enjoyed dinner before returning to her apartment. She was expecting several of her girlfriends to stop by for a visit on Sunday, so we said our goodbyes before things got passionate again. I was delighted to have been proven right. Kathy was just as beautiful without her makeup. In fact, I think I preferred her that way, and I hoped I could awaken to the wonderful sight of her sleeping alongside me again very soon.

After munching on a sort of breakfast and lunch combination made from fresh bagels, pastrami, and dark mustard, I took out my gizmo and set it up to observe the theft in Philadelphia. I watched as the paintings were cut from their frames and rolled up to be placed into special airtight tubes. People don't cram million-dollar paintings into knapsacks unless they're some kind of idiot, and these thieves certainly weren't idiots.

I made complete notes as the robbery progressed and carefully studied the faces of each of the thieves when they had removed their masks in the getaway vehicle. After watching the robbery, which lasted less than half an hour from start to finish, I marked each of the paintings, one at a time, and changed the time-line to the present. The gizmo took me to the same address for each of the five masterpieces.

"That means the paintings are still together, which makes it easier."

I adjusted the gizmo and discovered that the paintings were secreted behind a false wall in a basement. The panel lights on a dehumidifier were just bright enough for me to determine that the unit shared the space with an electric heater and the paintings.

"At least they're trying to ensure the paintings don't get ruined," I said aloud. "Let's see whose house this is."

After a brief examination of the basement, I adjusted the gizmo to move upstairs. The house was furnished but didn't appear to be lived in. I tried to check the refrigerator for contents, but all I proved was that the light really did go out when the door was closed. I then checked the upstairs bedrooms and found them deserted as well. Where the closet doors were not fully closed, I ascertained they were empty.

Well, I knew where the paintings were and what the crooks looked like, but I couldn't go to the insurance company with this. I needed facts and names or they wouldn't take me seriously. I'd also have to visit the crime scene to make it look like I'd really tracked down the thieves. The payday on this one would ensure I could work on selling my stories for years without worrying about money, but somehow I would have to make everyone believe I'd done it with real investigative work.

* * *

On Wednesday morning, I rented a car and drove to Philadelphia. It was my first trip to the City of Brotherly Love. Before visiting the crime scene, I stopped to enjoy a Philly Cheesesteak sandwich for lunch. It was infinitely better than the sandwich of the same name in New York. I guessed it was like Buffalo wings. The best wings I'd ever eaten were from Buffalo, New York, where the finger-friendly fast food had originated.

I spent the rest of the afternoon at the museum. I visited every area open to visitors, and I so conspicuously avoided looking at the art while examining every corner of every room that a security guard finally approached me.

"Excuse me, sir, may I help you?"

In my best imitation of Colombo, the famous television detective, I said, "No, no, I don't think so. Thanks anyway."

"Have you lost something?"

"No, this is my first time here."

"Would you accompany me to the security office, sir?"

"What for?"

"My supervisor, Captain DeRosa, would like to speak with you."

"Oh, okay."

I walked with the security guard to the office, which gave me a chance to see the security area in person. I had already visited every part of the museum by using the gizmo, but this trip was for me to be seen rather than for me to see.

"Come in, Mr… ?" the supervising guard said as I entered the office.

DeRosa looked like a stereotypical infantry commander who would be more at home on a battlefield than as top cop in a museum position where over-the-hill guards who had retired from the police force or young rejects who hadn't been able to get onto the force in the first place would normally be found. He was almost as tall as myself but older by at least fifteen years and, I'm ashamed to admit, appeared to be in better physical condition.

"James. Colton James."

"Mr. James, may I ask what you're doing here? You've been here for hours and haven't looked at a single exhibit."

"That's right. I'm not interested in your current exhibits."

DeRosa stood up a little straighter. "What
are
you interested in?"

"The Von Waggermann paintings that were stolen from this museum. I discussed the case with William Kovacs on Friday evening and told him I'd look into it."

"You work for Kovacs?"

"No. I'm an independent recovery expert. I was at the museum in New York City during the final security examination for the new Von Waggermann exhibit that opens this coming Friday. We discussed the robbery there after the museum passed the security check."

"You were there
during
the examination? Then you must have met Bill, the top security expert for the insurance company."

"Bill?" I said in an absent-minded sort of way. I shook my head slightly and said, "No, I didn't meet any Bill. Phil was there though. I thought
he
was their top man."

"You're right. It is Phil. I confused the names."

Baloney
, I thought.
You were trying to trip me up to find out if I'm legit.
"Easy mistake. They sound similar."

"Do you have any leads? We'd love to recover the paintings. It's a black mark on our history that we'd do almost anything to erase."

"Nothing yet, but I only started working the case Monday. Were you on duty the night the theft occurred?"

"No, I left at seven-thirty. We believe the theft occurred around three a.m."

"Really? How did you arrive at that?"

"One of the guards swears that he spent several minutes staring at one of the missing paintings in rapt appreciation during his rounds at two a.m., and the theft was discovered at four oh three. So we know the theft occurred between those hours. There are several unexplained— wispy— shadows visible on the videotapes between those hours. We're assuming they were made by the thieves during commission of the crime."

"I see. As I understood from Mr. Kovacs, there weren't any fingerprints or traceable clues found?"

"That's right. These guys were pros."

"Is that right? You know they were guys?"

"Er, no. I meant it in the generic sense."

"Ah, then you know they were pros?"

"Well, we know they did a professional job, and the paintings haven't surfaced. That normally means they had a buyer already lined up or knew where to sell them. They're probably in a private collection where some billionaire can sit and stare at them all day without sharing them with anybody else."

"I see. Yes, that's a possibility. I understand you've never discovered how the thieves got in or out."

"That's correct. It's another reason we believe they were pros. Only pros could have gotten in and out without leaving any sign of forced entry. They picked locks we thought were 'unpickable' and didn't leave so much as scratch marks around the locks."

"How do you figure they got past the alarms?"

"We haven't figured that one out either. We had a special alarm system installed as added protection for the exhibit. The guards had to deactivate the alarm just to enter that part of the museum when doing their rounds. The police believed it was an inside job, but we were able to use the videotapes to account for the movement of the guards throughout the whole night, and each of them passed a polygraph test with flying colors. There wasn't even a suggestion that one of them might be lying about having knowledge of the theft. The security company that installed the special alarm could have no knowledge of the deactivation code because it was changed after the installation and then again weekly."

"Interesting. And there wasn't anyone else working in the museum that night?"

"The cleaning people left at midnight. After that it was just the three guards until the police arrived in response to the alarm."

"And the alarm was intentionally set off by your people?"

"Yes, as soon as the theft was discovered. It's standard operating procedure. The alarm turns on both the interior lights throughout the building and the outside lighting so as to make it easier to spot intruders, but the thieves were already gone."

"It's quite a mystery."

"It sure is. Any ideas?"

"More questions than ideas, at least for now."

"Anything else I can answer?"

"No, there are some things I have to look into. You've been very helpful. Thank you, Mr…?"

"Captain DeRosa."

"Thank you, Captain DeRosa. I'll let you know when I find the paintings."

"You sound pretty sure of yourself, Mr. James."

"I've never failed yet, Captain. Before I leave, could you give me the home addresses of the three guards who were on duty that night?"

"We're satisfied they had nothing to do with the robbery."

"At this time, I lean that way also."

"I can arrange for you to interview them right here at the museum. I'd rather not upset their families further. They've been through enough."

"I understand, but I'd like to speak with them in more comfortable surroundings. The atmosphere during the questioning can be vital. There might be something they know that they don't know they know. Do you know what I mean? Sometimes, certain facts come to light in response to the right question."

"I think so. You mean something almost subconscious."

"Exactly. It won't be a grilling, just a friendly conversation such as the one we've just had. I promise to be most discreet."

"Very well. I'll arrange for the interviews."

"Thank you, Captain."

* * *

I found a decent motel and moved into the room, then drove around until I found a busy restaurant. Busy restaurants that were not located just off the interstates, on busy highways, or hosting a special event usually had decent food. It wasn't an infallible method for finding good restaurants, but I wasn't disappointed.

After returning to my room, I used the gizmo to visit the homes of each of the guards. They had already left for work, but their families were there. Lastly, I checked the phone book for the address of City Hall and then went to bed.

* * *

Philadelphia's City Hall, located at Broad and Market Streets, is reputed to be the largest municipal building in the United States. Philadelphia claims that it's even larger than the U.S. Capitol Building in Washington, DC. Perhaps when they began construction in 1871, Philadelphians were hoping to once again host the country's government. I arrived early and spent part of the morning searching for information in the Records Department. Occasionally I purchased some photocopies.