A World Without Secrets (40 page)

I was once again on my third cup when Mia emerged from the bedroom.

"I thought you might have left," she said. "Come back to bed, my love."

"I have work to do today."

"Then you are leaving?"

"I have work to do."

"Will you come back?"

"When my work is done, if you're still here."

"If you're coming back, I'll be here. How long do you think it will be?"

"Perhaps a few days."

"No more?"

"Perhaps a little. It's impossible to say for sure."

"I will wait until you return. Perhaps I will do a little shopping to make the time pass quicker."

Leaving was easier than I had expected. Mia hung onto me for at least a full minute, her lips locked with mine, but then she released me and allowed me to go, saying only, "Call me."

"I will. If you call me, don't be surprised if I don't pick up right away. I keep my phone in a special case so people can't track me. That also means the cell towers can’t find me to complete calls. So if I don't answer, just leave a message and I'll call when I see the message."

As I left the suite, a man who had to be part of her security staff gave me the once over. I nodded, then turned towards the elevators.

When I entered the Pulitzer, the desk staff looked up momentarily, smiled, then resumed their work. I had my key card, so I didn't need anything at the desk.

I had showered at Mia's, but I took another in my suite. It wasn't that I felt unclean— I just wanted to relax in the spray for a bit. I had dreaded the goodbye scene with Mia and hadn't begun to relax until I was in the cab. The hot shower helped me further unwind.

Once my laptop computer had finished booting up, I opened the encrypted report I'd written in London. I updated it with the new information, then dragged out my portable printer and produced the text. The tiny printer was slow, but that was the price paid for portability. I could have had the report printed in the hotel office, but it was 'eyes only' at this point.

I made two copies and then packed the printer away again. When I had tidied up, I placed a call to Kurt Locher at the insurance company. He was out, but they had standing orders to notify him if I called.

Five minutes later, Locher returned my call. When I told him why I had called, he said he'd be at my hotel in fifteen minutes. I hadn't eaten at Mia's, so I called down and asked them to send up some coffee, breakfast, and pastries.

When Locher arrived, Chief Inspector Schaake and Floyd Ambrose of Interpol were with him.

"Welcome back, Colt," Locher said. "I understand we almost lost you twice while you were gone."

"They did their best," I said. "I guess I was just a little bit better this time."

"What happened in Madrid? We've been unable to get a straight answer from the police there."

"I located the artwork, but the police barred me from the scene. They failed to find it in the warehouse where it was hidden and still wouldn't let me in to show them where it was. Overnight, the thieves broke into the warehouse, tore down the fake wall erected to hide the vault, removed the artwork, and got away clean. The next day the police discovered the broken lock on the door and then understood how they had been tricked. I imagine they're still trying to cover up their mistake."

"How did you know the artwork was hidden behind a fake wall?" Schaake asked.

"I secured that information from a private source that shall remain nameless."

"So the artwork is gone again?" Ambrose said.

"Yes, it's in Switzerland now."

"And just how do you know
that
?" Schaake asked.

"Let's just say I know, and if we move quickly, we can recover it."

"What about the thieves?"

"I've identified all of them."

"How is that possible?" Schaake said irritably. "You've been in London and Madrid."

"That you know of."

"You've been elsewhere?"

"Yes."

"Where?"

"Well, the Netherlands for one."

"Are you saying you knew their identities before you left?"

"I had a list of suspects. Why do you think they were so anxious to kill me, Chief Inspector?"

Schaake just scowled.

"So where's the artwork?" Ambrose asked.

"I have it all written down in my report." Looking at Locher, I asked, "Have you recovered any of the artwork yet, or received any leads as to where it might be?"

"What? Don't you know?"

"Yes, I know, I just want you to say it."

"No, we haven't."

"So there are no prior claims to mine for the recovery fee or any portion thereof?"

"None."

I reached into the inside pocket of my suit coat and removed the two copies of the report I had prepared. "These will tell you where the artwork is right now and who was involved in the theft. I'm sorry, Floyd, but I only prepared two copies because I only have a tiny, portable printer with me." I handed one copy to Locher and the other to Schaake.

Locher read his copy over several times while Schaake read his and then handed it to Ambrose to read.

"How can you be sure this list of suspects is accurate?" Schaake asked.

"I don't have to be sure. I only have to be sure of the location of the artwork. I would hurry to retrieve the paintings before they move them again. The names of the involved parties are simply a gift to you, Chief Inspector Schaake, to help you build your case."

"You haven't even been to Switzerland," Ambrose said. "How can you be sure the artwork is there or still there?"

"You're wasting time, gentlemen. The Spanish police captain let the artwork slip through his grasp, and I had to find it again. If
you
lose it because you drag your feet in recovering it, my fee to find it a third time will double."

"We know you arrived in Amsterdam in the company of Mia Kosarros two days ago," Schaake said. "Her company does business all over Europe, Africa, and the Americas, and is reputed to have ties with organized crime. Is she involved in this? Has she or someone in her company been providing information that allowed you to learn the identities of the thieves and track the artwork to its new location?"

"Mia herself knows absolutely nothing about the thefts and is not involved in any way."

"Then it comes from someone who works for her?" Ambrose asked.

"Tic tock, gentlemen. Are you interested in recovering the artwork or peppering me with questions?"

Locher looked at Ambrose, and said, "Floyd, can you coordinate the recovery with the Swiss?"

"I'll get right on it. By the time we get there, a search warrant should be arranged."

"Good. I'll arrange for a jet. Chief Inspector, can you have our suspects picked up for questioning and held until we recover the artwork?"

Schaake nodded.

"Good. Are you coming with us, Colt?"

"No. The report will lead you directly to the artwork. There's no false wall to confuse anyone this time. Have a safe trip."

Schaake looked at me with distrust in his eyes but followed Locher and Ambrose out of the suite. I knew he would run the names through the criminal database before acting and that would leave little doubt that five of them might be involved. I hoped he would at least arrest the two without criminal histories on suspicion before they had a chance to flee the country, but that was his business now.

I wished I could have provided more substantiative answers, but even with the gizmo I had been in way over my head since first arriving in Amsterdam. All I really wanted now was to be done with a case responsible for four attempts on my life. My involvement had gotten me shot and forced me to kill two human beings. And I needed time to decide how I was going to deal with the issue of a beautiful young woman who kept professing undying love for me.

I parked myself on the sofa to contemplate my situation.

Eight plus hours later I was still on the couch and still without a resolution. When I had met Mia, she had seemed like such a strong young woman. She was traveling between countries on her own and had engaged a complete stranger in conversation by purposely taking a seat facing him in what was almost an intimate situation. It hardly seemed like the act of an insecure person, especially when considering that she had provided lively and intelligent conversation the entire trip. But as I'd gotten to know her, I'd come to believe that was a façade. She was really a lonely young woman, lacking self-confidence, who appeared to have been used badly by the people around her. Her story of the man who had deserted her at a party to woo another woman was a prime example. Or was it a manufactured lie put forward to elicit sympathy? I just didn't know. Had I seen the real Mia or just the one she wanted me to see?

I knew one thing for sure. I had done the right thing by leaving. I thought I'd needed time to think, but thinking only raised more questions. After hours of contemplation, I was more confused than ever.

I finally left the sofa and went to the desk, where I created a list of the important questions. It was a method I often turned to when I needed to solve difficult and complex issues. After listing all of the questions, I listed all of the suppositions I'd made and the possible resolutions. When I was done, all I had was a long list with no resolutions.

It was late in Amsterdam but only the dinner hour on the east coast of the U.S., so I retrieved my cell phone from the special case and called Kathy's number. When she answered she was angry. I knew she was angry because she was screaming into the phone.

"Colton James, where have you been? I've been trying to contact you for days."

The last few days had been a blur, but I knew I hadn't called Kathy since I was staying in London. "I'm sorry, babe. I've been incredibly involved over here. The cell phone has been in its case, and I never heard it ring. I'm in Amsterdam right now. I just wrapped up the case— I think."

"I'm sure you have. It's on the evening news that the artwork was recovered in Switzerland. When did you go to Switzerland? Are you back in London? The Dutch police have arrested five suspects and issued arrest warrants for two more, and the insurance company is crediting you with solving the case. But Colton, they're also saying there have been four separate attempts on your life and that you were shot twice during a gun battle in a Madrid restaurant. They're also saying you killed two men. Is that true?"

"Uh, yeah. But I'm okay. One wound was just a scratch. And the other wound was a minor leg injury. I'll be perfectly fine in a month, although I'll probably have a scar."

"When you took that job with the FBI, you said you'd never have to use your gun. You said all you'd be doing is investigation work. Now I learn you're killing people."

"This wasn't for the FBI. This is one of my art recovery cases. And I had no choice with the two deaths. Those men were trying to kill me. I didn't go after them."

"But you
did
go after them when you took the case. Didn't you think violent criminals would react violently to people sticking their nose into their criminal activity?"

"That's why I've tried to shield you from my cases."

"But I don't want to be shielded. I want you to stop flying all over the world murdering people. I want the sensitive, struggling author back. The one I fell in love with. I want you to end this art recovery business and resign from the FBI immediately. Now tell me you're going to quit."

I didn't reply right away. When she didn't hear anything, Kathy said, "Are you still there, Colton?"

"I'm here. I'm thinking. It's not the kind of decision I can make in an instant. Let's talk about it when I get back."

"I'm through talking about it. I'm thankful you weren't seriously injured, but I'm not willing to go on like this. I want my nice, quiet life back. I don't want a murderer for a boyfriend. And I don't want to be constantly worrying whenever you go away that I might not see you again."

"That could be true for anyone. Accidents happen all the time. My folks were killed while on vacation. I told you about that."

"That was an accident, not death from a gunman. Oh, I'm through."

The line went dead. She had hung up on me. I’d known for some time that she had a temper, and I believed she might regret her action later as she had when I'd forgotten about the awards dinner and she'd hung up on me.

I figured there was no sense calling her right back. She'd only hang up again, if she even answered the phone. I left the phone out on the nightstand next to the bed so I'd hear it if it rang and went to bed.

In the morning, I checked the phone. No calls had come in. Kathy must still be angry. Then I realized it was still the middle of the night on the east coast. I also realized I was famished. I hadn't eaten anything since breakfast yesterday.

The kitchen probably thought I had company because I ordered a double omelet, bacon, four pannekoeken, four wentelteefjes, and two pots of coffee. When the order arrived, there were four china plates on the serving cart. I signed for the food and was digging in before the room service attendant had even closed the door.

Twenty minutes later I felt like one of those enormous African snakes that had just eaten an entire antelope. When I looked down at my stomach, I could almost imagine it appearing like the greatly enlarged area in the snake where the antelope's body had stopped to be digested. I moved to the couch to digest my antelope and dozed off.

I was awakened a couple of hours later by the phone. I thought it might be Kathy but then realized it was the hotel phone.

"Colton? This is Gunter. I just had to call and thank you. The paintings have all been authenticated. It will be weeks before they can be returned to the exhibit area because the damage must be repaired, but they are once again in our possession and will be available for public viewing as soon as possible. I can't thank you enough. When the police could find no leads, I knew
you
were the only man for the job."

"I'm glad I was able to help."

"How are your injuries, my friend? Will you be laid up for long?"

"I was lucky, Gunter. My injuries are not too serious."