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

“The Concert of Vermeer?” Phillip had half-risen out of his chair, his eyes wide and his mouth slightly open. “Are you sure? Is it the original? Oh, dear lord.”

“What the hell is this Concert and why is this so shocking?” Manny asked, his head swivelling from Phillip to Colin and back.

Phillip sat back down, but looked shaken. “It is one of thirteen works of art that were stolen from a museum in Boston in 1990. It is one of the biggest art heist mysteries in recent history.”

“And the value of those paintings together is over five hundred million dollars,” Colin said quietly.

There were gasps and shocked exclamations around the table. Though I worked daily with articles insured for incredible amounts, this amount was staggering, even for me.

“Let me give you the complete picture.” Colin leaned back in his chair. “It was our lucky day. No one was home and the security system is really below par. It was no fun breaking in. Imagine my surprise when I saw egotistical photos of René Motte all over the house. His walls are covered in photos of his exploits around the world. Whatever wall space is not covered with his face has a few pricey paintings, but not the kind of stuff that would make it worthwhile for an art thief to break in. The street value of all of it on the black market might, and I’m emphasising might, get you one million euro.”

“That sounds like it is worthwhile to me,” Manny said. “One million euro can get one quite far.”

“Nope.” Colin shook his head. “It would mean you have to carry out at least fifty paintings, nine statues and other little ornaments to reach that amount. This is not a stealthy operation, and would require time and the unwanted risk of being noticed by the neighbours. It is for small-time crooks and they almost never steal art.”

“So the Vermeer wasn’t on the walls.” I wanted to know more about the painting that was causing Colin’s hands to have slight tremors of excitement. “Where did you find it?”

“In a preservation room on the ground floor.”

“Wait.” Manny scowled. “What is a preservation room?”

Phillip looked at Colin, and nodded when Colin gestured with an open hand for Phillip to continue. “True art collectors understand the delicate nature of the pieces they own. A preservation room is set up to control the temperature, humidity and light to a level that will preserve the artwork in the best possible environment. Some people turn this into an elaborate office or library. Others purely set it up as a store room with rows and rows of shelves, holding the most valuable pieces they have collected.”

“I would rather do the library-office thing,” Nikki said. “At least I can sit and look at all the beautiful stuff I spent so much money on.”

“I’m with you on that one, punk. Why bother buying all these crazy expensive stuff if you’re never going to appreciate having it?”

“For investment,” Phillip said.

“Oh, don’t even try, Phillip.” Colin looked at Vinnie with disapproval. “Vin and I have had this argument many times. He understands that art gives an even better return on investment than property and playing on the stock market, but he doesn’t think that pretty pictures is the same as having cold hard cash—”

“—hidden in a safe place.” Vinnie glared at Colin.

“Can we return to the topic?” I hated when conversations got derailed. “What did you find in the preservation room?”

“A lock that was easy to pick, and security worthy of a few minor artworks, not the pieces I found in there. René Motte should be arrested simply for having inferior security. Okay, okay.” Colin patted the air with his palms down to placate me. I was shifting in my chair. “Motte had his preservation room set up as a display room, with a swivel chair in the centre. On the one wall were shelves with Modigliani sculptures, Incan masks and Ancient Egyptian artefacts. On the other walls were quite a few Picasso paintings and sketches, but it was the Vermeer that had central stage. He had obviously decorated the room to give that painting the most prominent place.”

“Which means it has the greatest value to him,” I said. “It could be the monetary value or the ownership value.”

“I think it might be both. Owning a stolen piece of art that not only is that valuable, but comes from a heist that has had many law enforcement agencies scratching their heads for almost a quarter of a century is quite a coup.”

“What do we know about this Mud guy?” Manny asked.

“Motte. René Motte.” Francine rolled her eyes and waved her tablet. “He has his own Wikipedia page. He’s also listed by Forbes as one of the five hundred richest people in the world. He got some money from inheritance, but smartly invested in oil companies and that was where he hit… well, black gold.”

“An oligarch.” Vinnie put his croissant on his plate, his mouth pulled in an expression as if he had tasted something unpleasant. I assumed it wasn’t the pastry. “Most of the oligarchs are Russian and we know that they are all thieving bastards.”

“Says the pot calling the kettle black.”

I ignored Manny’s provocation. I also decided not to question Vinnie’s certainty that the Russian oligarchs were thieves. It would mean digressing. Again. “What is Motte doing now?”

“He’s been CEO of a few companies, but the last decade or so, he’s been sitting on several boards as a member, and is also part of a think tank for the Democratic Platform party.”

“Isn’t that the president’s party?” Nikki asked.

“Yes, it is,” Francine said, still swiping her tablet screen.

“Can you find any connection between him and Minister Savreux?” I leaned forward. We might be getting somewhere.

“Not from Wikipedia, no.”

I frowned. “I thought you said to never believe anything from Wikipedia. That it is all propaganda and lies.”

“Of course it is.” She sucked in her cheeks, and flipped her hair over her shoulder in a jerky movement. “I sometimes use it as a starting point. It’s already given me a few links to reputable websites with credible information on Motte. Soon I’ll tell you what he eats for breakfast.”

“Why would he own a painting stolen in Boston twenty-four years ago?” Phillip asked. “Francine, in your research, also look for any connection Motte has with Boston.”

“Here’s another thought.” The tone in Colin’s voice got everyone’s attention. “Thirteen works of art were stolen from the Isabella Steward Gardner museum in Boston. This Vermeer, two Rembrandts, drawings by Degas, a Manet and Govaert Flinck’s Landscape with an Obelisk.”

“Oh, bloody hell.” Manny rubbed his hand over his face. “And you think that is the painting you were directed to in Savreux’s house?”

“I think it is a safe conclusion taking the latest developments into consideration.” The muscles around Colin’s eyes and mouth contracted into a genuine smile. “I think we are in the process of solving a twenty-four-year-old crime.”

“Don’t get too cocky, Frey. We’re still far from solving anything. Tell me more about this heist in Boston. Did the locals have any suspects?”

“Me! Me!” Francine’s enthusiastic answer startled me, especially when she waved her right hand above her head. “I recently read that the FBI said they knew exactly who had stolen the art, but didn’t name the suspects, because the statutes of limitation have run out. Since all the art is still missing, they didn’t want to shoot themselves in the foot, but rather look for the works. Anyhoo, that got me interested and I looked into it. There are some really cool theories about who was responsible for that heist.”

“Um, maybe later you can add that to your research report, Francine.” Phillip was a master in diplomacy and negotiation. “Let’s hear from Colin what he knows about it.”

“Since Frey is the expert on stealing art, I agree with Phillip on this one, supermodel.” He grunted when Francine winked at him. “At least Frey won’t have theories that include alien invasions.”

“You might be as sexy as hell, but you’re a real spoilsport, Manny.” Even though Francine’s mouth was pulled into an unhappy pout, her eyes communicated merriment. After all this time, I still didn’t fully comprehend the pleasure she took in pestering Manny.

He ignored her and turned to Colin. “So? What happened?”

“Two men walked into the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum, tied up the guards and eighty-one minutes later walked out with thirteen works of art to today’s value of five hundred million dollars.”

“Bloody hell.”

“You can say that again. These guys disguised themselves as policemen and entered through the side entrance of the museum. They buzzed the intercom and demanded to get in, saying they had received reports of a disturbance inside. There were only two guards securing the entire four-storey building, so it was easy to overpower them. They tricked the first guard, who was sitting behind the main security desk, by telling him they had an outstanding arrest warrant for him. He stepped away from the desk and the alarm button
that he could’ve used to call the real police, and they duct-taped him.

“They tied up the other guard as well, disabled an alarm when it went off and took their sweet time stealing the art. It took
them less than an hour and a half. Two trips to their car and voila! They had half a billion dollars’ worth of hot art.”

“That easy?”

“Making it look easy isn’t always that easy.” Nikki shrugged when everyone looked at her. “What? Doc G makes reading people look easy, but I know she studied very long to be able to do that. Francine makes hacking look easy, but it took her a long time and a lot of practice to get to that level.”

Concern tightened my chest. I turned to Nikki. “Your expression tells me that you admire Francine…”

“I have no plans to start hacking anything, Doc G. I also don’t plan to steal anything or to intimidate anyone, but I still think Colin and Vinnie are cool.”

“Thanks, punk.” Vinnie shook his index finger at her. “But you better not get any criminal ideas. We will spot you coming from a mile away.”

I exhaled loudly. There were too many personalities seated around the table. This caused every conversation to be derailed at least five times. In the beginning, I had kept count of the distractions, but found that knowledge useless. Manny was now mocking Colin and Vinnie’s sincerity because of their criminal pasts. From experience, I knew that it would require anger from my side to bring the conversation back on track. I didn’t desire expending energy on such a doomed ambition, so I closed my eyes and went over the numerous bits of unconnected information.

Was Minister Claude Savreux’s death connected to the Boston heist? If so, how was it connected? Most importantly, who was sending Nikki those direct messages? How did he know of her connection to us and where did he get his information? Was he connected to the Boston heist? There were many unanswered questions requiring attention, yet the arguments around the table continued.

It was the sudden silence in the team room that had me opening my eyes. The reason was leaning against the doorway to the corridor. Dressed in an immaculate suit, dress shirt without a tie and the top button undone, Henri Fabron communicated careless style. He was the president’s aide and was supposed to work closely with us on any case the president sent our way. In the year we had been working under the president, I had only seen him twice. Today was the second time.

After our first meeting, he had insisted on meeting only with Manny, claiming that the rest of us were inconsequential since we had no law enforcement training. He had told Manny our intellect aside, he was not convinced that any of us would understand the intricacies of politics. He hadn’t met any of the others, but had told Manny he didn’t trust our team. I didn’t trust him.

“Good morning, Manny.” Henri stepped into the room, his focus on Manny as if he was the only person in the room.

“Sorry, boss.” Tim walked around Henri towards Phillip, his facial muscles tense. “I told Monsieur Fabron there was a meeting, but he insisted on coming in.”

“No problem, Tim.” Phillip stood up and held out his hand. “Henri, welcome. Please join us.”

“I’ll get a chair from the other room.” Tim started walking to my viewing room.

“No!” I jumped out of my chair, reaching out as if to stop him. Tim’s whole body jerked and he slowly turned around. I lowered my hands and cleared my throat when I realised all eyes were on me. “Please don’t take anything from my viewing room.”

“He can have my desk chair,” Francine said as she walked to her desk and rolled her chair to the round table. She stopped in front of Henri and smiled. It was not a genuine smile, but a smile I had come to recognise whenever Francine was planning something. “Hi. I’m Francine. Who are you?”

“Henri Fabron.” He held out his hand to shake hers. The contraction of the muscles around his eyes and the dilation of his pupils was a clear indication of his attraction to Francine. She often elicited this response from men.

“Henri is from the president’s office,” Phillip said, his eyes moving between Henri and Francine. His expression didn’t reveal his thoughts, but his pursed lips indicated displeasure. “We don’t see you often enough, Henri.”

“I see him more than enough.” The change in Manny’s posture was miniscule, but the effect large. He hunched his shoulders and adjusted his body language to appear disinterested, even bored.

“Please join us.” Phillip gestured at Francine’s chair.

“Thank you, Phillip.” Henri sat down. In the first and only meeting with me, Henri had also insisted on first names. He inhaled to say something else, but stopped when Colin’s smartphone started ringing.

“Sorry.” Colin didn’t look contrite as he took his phone out of his pocket. He glanced at the screen and his eyes widened very slightly before he controlled his expression. He looked at me. “I have to take this. Be back in a second.”

I nodded while trying my best not to confront him about his irrational mention of time. It was going to take him at least three seconds to leave the room. What he had said was physically impossible.

“I hear you were at the scene of a murder last night.” Henri looked around the table, but studiously avoided looking at me. This had also happened at our first meeting. His attempt at sounding nonchalant about Minister Savreux’s murder was noble, but he failed. Curious. “Care to fill me in?”

Manny shrugged. “One of my CI’s got an anonymous tip about some noises and a possible body in a house filled with valuable art, so I reached out to my contact at GIPN to meet me there and the rest I’m sure you know. Have you not read the report?”

Manny did not often lie. He was too impatient for that. The few times he had told an untruth had left me in awe of his smooth ability to do so. It was fortuitous that Henri was avoiding eye contact with me, else he might have seen my quick smile at Manny’s expert delivery of the lie. Were I not a top expert in nonverbal communication, I would’ve been prone to believe Manny. He had just told the most exceptional lie.

“I’ve read the report. I also spoke to Officer Daniel Cassel. He tells the same story.” Henri straightened in his chair to give himself more height. “As I told Officer Cassel, this case will be investigated by a special team that has been assembled for Minister Savreux’s unfortunate death. You are to hand over all information to me and move on to the next case.”

Observing everyone in the room was a fascinating study. Nikki had made herself as small as possible, hugging her coffee mug to her chest. I knew she would not say a word. Francine was pouting and playing with the pendant of her necklace, drawing attention to her cleavage. Why she was trying to distract Henri, I did not know. Vinnie was leaning back in his chair, watching Manny and Henri through narrowed eyes, and Phillip was his usual professional self. From the body language around the table, it was clear something important was taking place. Something that Manny was taking control of, and
everyone was allowing Manny to lead. I was not going to interfere. It was far too educational to watch.

Colin came back into the room and sat down next to me. He looked at Manny, as if to start an argument, but changed his mind and looked at Vinnie. The gesture was subtle, but Vinnie rubbed his index finger vertically over his lips, telling Colin not to speak.

“Why should we just sit back on this investigation?” Manny said with adequate conviction, presenting the requisite protest at having a case taken away from him. “As you know, we are still looking for Dukwicz, so it’s not like we’re lying on our laurels all day here. But since there aren’t any new leads in Dukwicz’s case, we might as well take this one.”

“This is a direct order, Manny.”

“From who?”

“Whom,” I said before I could stop myself. Manny glared at me.

“Who gave that order, Henri? President Godard? You know that we only answer to him.”

“And you know that just like you work in a team here, we also work in a team. The president has full knowledge of any and all meetings I have with you, as well as the meetings you have with Antoine Lefebvre.”

Antoine Lefebvre was the Minister of Justice. Because he presided over the running of the court system, and also supervised the prosecution service, Manny’d had a few meetings with him. I had never met him, but had heard that he was an exceptionally intelligent man. Other words used to describe him were shrewd, cunning and unflappable. He was one of the few officials to ever be involved in our cases. He took an interest since the majority of our cases were at a level most prosecutors didn’t function at. He had been a great support, making sure to appoint the best prosecutor to each of our cases. He was also a friend of President Godard’s.

“You still haven’t answered my question,” Manny said.

“This order comes from President Godard at the request of Monsieur Lefebvre. Another, much more important, event has taken place that will need your attention and expertise.” Henri paused. People did that to build anticipation towards the apex of their anecdote or announcement. “This morning at seventeen minutes past five, a thief broke into the Jean Monnet Museum and stole art to the value of thirteen million euro.”

“What museum is that?” Vinnie asked.

Henri raised his chin a bit higher to look down at Vinnie. “Jean Omer Marie Gabriel Monnet is considered to be one of the founding fathers of the European Union. He was a political economist and diplomat, regarded by many as the chief architect of unity in Europe. This museum was founded in his memory for the great things he’d done for France and Europe.”

“You’re shitting me. With a name like that?” Vinnie chuckled. “Poor sucker.”

“What did they steal?” Phillip asked. The corners of his mouth were turned down, as it was every time he heard of an art heist. He called it a nightmare to even think about this happening.

“A Caravaggio, a Renoir, a Klimt and a Picasso. They always go for the Picassos. All in all there were six pieces stolen. Not the biggest heist in history, but it happened on our front door. Since you guys are the art theft experts, the president would like for you to take this case.”

“What’s the president’s interest in this museum? Why would he want us to take the case?” I asked.

“The president’s wife, Madame Godard, is one of the patrons of this museum, not that it really matters. You exist as a team at the president’s request. If the leader of this country asks you to
look into a case, you should not question it. You should just do it.”

His disparaging tone and the disgust on his face elicited immediate responses. Everyone shifted in their chairs to more alert positions. Everyone except Manny. He waved his hands in a dismissive gesture. “Fine, we’ll look into this heist. We don’t have any file open on Minister Savreux’s death yet, so there’s nothing to give to you. We were actually having a team meeting to brainstorm how to tackle this when you came in. Good thing too, else we would’ve wasted time on a dead politician. No offense, of course.”

“None taken.” Purposefully, Henri looked around the table, making eye contact with everyone but me. I registered every micro-expression he exhibited when he looked at the team, especially when he looked at Nikki. He was schooling his expression, controlling it to reveal only contempt and disrespect. A few contradictory micro-expressions gave me pause. I needed to process what I was observing. Finally, his gaze fell on Manny. “I want to know that you will put your everything into finding not only the thieves, but especially the artwork stolen this morning. Can I count on you?”

A lot of insincere mumbles rose from the table and I watched in amazement as Henri accepted this. When I had met him a year ago, I had thought of him as astute. Now I thought of him as cunning. He appeared mollified with the lies Manny had told him and the feigned assurances the team had given him. It was in the relaxed muscles in his face as he got up and wished us happy hunting. Very suspicious.

Phillip got up with him and closed the door behind Henri when he left for the elevator. There was a moment of stunned silence before everyone started speaking at the same time.

“Quiet!” Manny stood up, his shoulders straight. “Be quiet for a second.”

Francine inhaled to say something, but stopped at Manny’s glare.

“What is the latest we have on Dukwicz?” Manny asked.

His sudden change of subjects confused not only me. Everyone was staring at him.

“I spoke to a contact that told me he’s in town again,” Vinnie said. “Do you think he’s responsible for this morning’s—
”

“—heist?” Manny interrupted. “It’s a possibility I’m considering given his track record of breaking and entering. That bastard has been able to get past extremely good security systems with worrying ease. I’m also wondering if supermodel has been diligent in checking our systems for bugs.”

Manny’s voice dropped half a tone, the micro-expressions around his eyes and mouth revealing a hidden message behind his sentences. I wasn’t good at guessing, but it seemed like the others were. Both Colin and Vinnie’s body language went from confusion to alertness.

Francine’s nonverbal cues told me she too understood Manny’s innuendo. She jumped up and dragged her chair back to her computer station. “I check the computers every morning, so I know there’s nothing here, but I haven’t checked the rooms for possible bugs. I’ll get to it right now. Vinnie will help me. Nikki can supervise. We can’t have Dukwicz know what we’re up to.”

Finally I understood the nuances being communicated, but I was struggling to interpret all the pointed looks Francine was giving Manny and Vinnie. Turning to Colin, I lifted my shoulders and hands in an inquiring gesture. He mouthed the word ‘later’ and winked.

“While supermodel is checking to make sure Dukwicz has not breached our security, we will go to the museum and check out this art theft. Come on, Frey. Since you’re the expert, you can tell us how they did it.”

Colin and I got in his SUV and followed Manny for twenty-three blocks to the Jean Monnet Museum. Colin had given me a warning look that I understood to mean that the car was also not a safe place to talk. From Colin’s music selection, I chose Mozart’s Clarinet Concerto in A major and sat back to listen to the soothing sounds for the twelve-minute drive to the city centre.

We parked behind Manny’s ten-year-old sedan. It was curious that we had found parking so easily at half past ten in the morning. Not only was the museum located in the city centre, but it was in the tourist area that saw a lot of foot and vehicle traffic. Despite the month and the lack of tourists, this part of the city was always busy and packed during workdays and weekends alike. This led me to wonder if the police had cleared the area of traffic and parked cars.

I got out of the SUV and pulled my scarf higher over my chin. It was cold. On the opposite side of the street, pedestrians were slowing down their pace to gawk at the police cars haphazardly parked in front of the museum. The entrance to the museum was blocked, a police officer standing there, his posture lacking any welcoming cues. It deterred any curious onlookers from crossing the street and asking questions.

Manny waited for us to join him after he spoke to the officer to let us through. The museum was housed in an older building which was well maintained to retain
its old-worldly look. This building housed the museum, a boutique and a framing business. Taking up almost two-thirds of the building and using all four floors, the museum was large enough to have a permanent exhibition and host a few temporary exhibitions every year. I had been here when they had a display of Leonardo da Vinci’s sketches.