The Gauguin Connection Read online

  “Vinnie, I don’t like this.” I didn’t know why I was whispering. No one could overhear my telephonic discussion while I was in my soundproof viewing room. “I don’t care that he phoned me last night and told me that this will be easy. He’s still entering someone’s house illegally.”

  “Colin will be fine, Jen-girl. I’m going to say this one more time: he knows what he’s doing.” He dragged out the last part as if I was slow in comprehension. “Now get off the phone and do your work. I’ll be waiting for you when you’re done.”

  “Fine.” I didn’t wait for a response and just closed the new cell phone to disconnect. Vinnie and I had been arguing ever since Colin left us last night. I wished that I had had more time. Then I could have analysed this bad feeling I had about Colin breaking into Mark Smith’s house. But all my time was consumed with finding more connections in this case. And the connections seemed to be forthcoming. With Colin’s help yesterday, I had found two more artists who had been murdered. Both had been on cruises.

  Now I was ready to look into the financials of the Foundation for Development of Sustainable Education. It had been in my inbox when I opened my email this morning with a sarcastic note from Manny. He was angry again and I didn’t know why. I hadn’t done anything new to annoy him. Maybe he had received another phone call from Chief Dutoit.

  First things first. I went to the music files on my computer and selected the play list I favoured when dealing with more challenging cases. Once Mozart was floating through the room, filling every available space with its purity, everything in me stilled. Like always, it felt like my thoughts, my life, my entirety snapped into focus. I opened the first financial report and started working through it.

  As per usual when I was absorbed in something interesting, time drifted away from me. It was the gentle swoosh of the viewing room door opening and closing that brought me back to the present. I glanced at my watch and was shocked that it was just past four o’clock. I had been working through these financials for the last eight hours. It was a very productive eight hours though. I turned to my visitor with an elated sense of achievement. Which was promptly replaced with annoyance. I was looking at a very disapproving face.

  “Why have you not contacted me, Doctor Face-reader?” Manny pulled a chair closer and sat down next to me. I looked over his shoulder at the door, hoping that Phillip would be following him to buffer this conversation, but alas. The door remained disappointingly closed.

  “Why would I contact you?”

  “Because I asked you to. On all seven messages I left on your bloody cell phone.”

  “I’ve told you that I don’t use my cell phone.”

  “Then why do you have one?” He stopped me when I opened my mouth to give him the lengthy explanation of recording people in public places. “No, I actually don’t want to know. Could you please turn that racket down?”

  I looked at him blankly.

  “The music, missy. The music.” I turned Mozart’s Fugue in G minor down to a soft din in the background. Manny continued frowning, so I switched it off. “Tell me that you’ve got something new. My boss is riding my arse, Leon is riding my arse because his boss is riding his arse and I’m sick of it.”

  The way he threw himself back against the chair and closed his eyes in a pained expression prevented me from inquiring about the arse riding. I made a mental note to remember this new expression and ask Vinnie about it. I assumed its meaning and liked it. I also liked the idea that I could take away the stress lines marring Manny’s face. I didn’t like other people placing so much pressure on him. Why I would feel this was a worrying mystery.

  “We have the names of sixteen murdered artists, most of whom were amateurs. These murders took place in the last eight years.” I had Manny’s full attention. He was sitting up in the chair now. Not a single stress line on his face, only interest. “Every single one of them was on a cruise ship that travelled along the Baltic or North Sea routes. Only Danielle and another artist ever shared rooms on the ships. Karin Vittone, the other artist, shared her room with one Mark Smith.”

  Manny remained silent for a very long time, staring at the wall behind me. Then he lifted his eyes and gave me a smile. The first genuine smile I had seen on his face. “I could kiss you right now.”

  My eyes stretched in shock and I pushed with my feet to roll my chair away from him. “Please don’t.”

  His smile was immediately replaced by a scowl. “It’s just an expression, missy.”

  I realised how my reaction must have looked and closed my eyes with regret. “Manny, I’m sorry. I’m not good with this. With relating to people. With speaking to people without giving offence. I’m especially not good with physical contact.”

  My mind flashed back to the few times that Colin had touched me and Vinnie had ruffled my hair. Vinnie I had wanted to hit over the head, but not because he had touched me. Rather because he had messed up my carefully styled messy hair. Colin’s touch didn’t cause any negative reflexes.

  “Genevieve!” Manny’s annoyed voice broke into my thoughts. “Would you please not get lost in your head. Phillip is not here to help me if you go all weird again.”

  “And people say I have no diplomacy.” I smiled. “It’s actually refreshing to know someone ruder than I.”

  Manny grumbled something about uppity little geniuses and sighed. “Please tell me everything you’ve found so far.”

  I did. I told him everything that I had discovered yesterday with the exception of Mark Smith’s address. I knew that it was wrong and that at one point I was going to pay dearly for it, but what else was I supposed to do? If I told him about the address, he would send people there and Colin would be discovered. A heaviness settled in my mind with the thought that I was aiding and abetting a criminal. Even worse, I was withholding vital information from a law enforcement agent. This was going to land me in jail.

  “What about the Foundation’s financials?”

  “They’re perfect.” I ignored Manny’s groan of disappointment. “Too perfect. That is never a good sign. Especially for a charity. In any large organisation there are anomalies in their financials. It is to be expected. But here,” I pointed at one of the monitors against the wall, “everything is perfect. Which made me very suspicious.”

  “Please tell me you found something else.”

  “I did.” I flinched a little at my admission. I didn’t want Manny to want to kiss me again. When he didn’t threaten me with such grateful behaviour, I continued. “Yesterday I delved deeper into auctions. I honestly don’t know how many auctions there were on the cruise ships since I could only work with those that were advertised.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “Everything about the auctions, the marketing, pamphlets, everything was very average. Nothing to raise any questions.”

  “But something got your attention.”

  “Would you stop interrupting me?” My sharp reprimand surprised and then angered Manny. His lips disappeared into a thin line. I felt free to continue. “Thank you. Yes, something got my attention. I have established that twenty-seven of the thirty-three companies I’ve identified used the same legal and accounting firms. Those same two firms are listed on the Foundation’s expenditure statements. That connects the ships to each other and to the Foundation.”

  “That’s fantastic. A concrete connection.”

  “There’s more. On every cruise that held an auction, three percent of the profit was promised to the Foundation. So I cross-checked the dates of the cruises. Look here.” I aimed my laser pointer at one of the ten monitors. “On sixteen July last year, the Krolewska cruise ship held an auction. The Krolewska is owned by Zeek, a company owned by Kozlevich. If you look over here,” I pointed at the monitor to the left, “you’ll see that on nineteen July, three days later, the Krolewska donated fifty thousand euro to the Foundation. The next day, Zeek donated a hundred and fifty thousand euro to the Foundation.”

  “Holy mother of all that
is pure.” Manny stared wide-eyed at the monitors. I wished that I could have taken a photo of his face. It was textbook disbelief. “I take it that this is not the only instance.”

  “Indeed not. This exact system was used with eight other auctions that I’ve found so far. Three days after the auction was held, the cruise ship donated an amount to the Foundation and the next day that amount was tripled by the company that owns that ship. The combined amount of all these so-called donations so far is over five million euro.”

  “A lot of money, but in the grand scheme of things, not that huge.”

  “True, but did you know that the Foundation received over eighteen million euro last year in donations, grants and all other kinds of funding?”

  “What?”

  “Did you know that–”

  “I heard you before. Where did they get that much money from?”

  “That is what I want to check next. I’m sure there are some legitimate donations, but I’m going to look deeper. Now that I have a pattern, the first donation and the tripled donation the next day, I’ll look for more transfers like that. But I found something even more interesting.”

  “I don’t think my heart can take it.”

  “I didn’t know you had heart problems.” Alarmed, I leaned closer, looking for signs of physical discomfort displayed on his face.

  Manny leaned back in his chair and frowned at me. “You are sometimes so weird, I have to wonder if you are human. I do not have heart problems. It’s an expression. Please, just tell me what else you’ve found.”

  I put this new expression on the list to ask Vinnie about. A grimace settled around my mouth. I didn’t like what I was about to tell Manny. “Since I had the auctions with their dates, I decided to cross-check it with the dates of the deaths of the artists. Shortly after each auction, sometimes a day, sometimes a week, but never more than ten days, one of these artists turned up dead. I have found five situations like this.”

  “Holy mother.” If there were an analogue clock in my viewing room, I would have heard the seconds tick away the long silence between us. “Send this all to me. Everything.”

  “I’ll write up a report and send it to you early this evening.”

  “I simply cannot believe that one of the most high profile charities in Europe, helping tens of thousands of people every year, can be involved in this. This is going to cause an international political situation. Many top officials in Europe lend their support to the Foundation.” He exhaled slowly, puffing his cheeks. People did this to calm down after a negative experience, or in this case, a negative realisation. “To top it all, it seems like the Foundation is run by goons.”

  “Who is this Mister Goons?” I didn’t see that name anywhere during my research into the Foundation.

  Manny stared at me open mouthed. “Have you absolutely no vocabulary outside of your academic dictionaries?”

  “I’ve never found it imperative to my work.” That had most certainly changed in the last two weeks. “What or who is a goons then?”

  “Low life criminals.”

  “Oh.” I dragged out the sound, wondering how Vinnie and Colin would respond to being called goons. Time to refocus. “What is the connection between the EDA, Eurocorps and the Foundation? I’ve looked for something, but all I’ve found are numerous functions attended by officials from the two agencies. There are also many articles to be found mentioning donations, support and involvement from the European Commission, EDA and Eurocorps. Do you know anything about this?”

  “Since the beginning of the EDA, the Foundation was its favoured charity. I’ve been forced to attend more black tie functions for this charity than I care for.” His nose crinkled in disgust. “I always thought having these elaborate functions was such a waste of money. Money that could be put to better use to help more people. But such is the politics of charities.”

  “What about Eurocorps’ involvement?”

  “I don’t know. Let’s ask Leon.” He took out his cell phone, touched the screen a few times, held it between us and waited. It rang four times.

  “Manny.” Leon’s voice was even deeper over the phone.

  “Leon, I’m with Doctor Lenard and you’re on speaker. It this a good time?”

  “Hold on.” We heard a muffled order for someone to return in half an hour and something that sounded like a door clicking closed. “I’m back. What’s happening?”

  Manny looked at me and lifted his eyebrows. I lifted my eyebrows back at him. His eyes narrowed and he huffed. He rolled his eyes and then spoke towards the phone. “The doc and I were talking about the Foundation’s connection between the EDA and Eurocorps. How long has Eurocorps been involved with the Foundation?”

  Obviously Leon was up to date with everything so far, because he didn’t pause to answer. “The first time I heard about the Foundation was, let me think, about seven years ago. It was Brigadier General Crenshaw who pushed us to go to that first event. It was the year after I joined Eurocorps. I remember this, because he was really making an issue of it.”

  “The same Nick Crenshaw from the Iron Curtain division? The same Crenshaw asking too many questions about the weapons theft?” Manny asked.

  “The same.”

  I found this conversation interesting, especially the intense dislike for Brigadier General Crenshaw I heard in Leon’s voice and saw on Manny’s face. “Could you gentlemen please tell me more about him?”

  “Oh, hello Genevieve.” Leon sounded surprised to hear my voice. He must have forgotten about me. “Nick Crenshaw served with Manny and myself a million years ago.”

  “The three of us floated between agencies, sometimes together, sometimes not,” Manny said. “At one point all three of us were in Interpol. Later on Crenshaw was stationed in Hungary, in what we called the Iron Curtain Division, the ICD.”

  “Manny?” Leon sounded worried.

  “It’s all right, Leon. Doc is privy to quite a bit of confidential stuff at the moment. But I’m definitely not going to tell her anything too confidential.” He looked at me. “You have to understand that this conversation is never to become public knowledge.”

  I just nodded my head. Would telling Vinnie and Colin be considered as making this information public knowledge? Since I knew I could never ask Manny this, I bit my tongue. Literally.

  “Good. The iron curtain division worked in countries that were previously under communist rule. If the scuttlebutt...” Manny frowned at me and sighed. “If rumours were to be believed, Crenshaw was heading up a unit that was doing all kinds of intelligence work following the collapse of the Soviet Union. After Interpol, he joined Eurocorps. Do you know when that was, Leon?”

  “Five years before me. That would be thirteen years ago.” There was a short silence. “Why are we discussing Crenshaw’s résumé?”

  “Because he was the one who insisted that Eurocorps get involved with the Foundation.”

  “And because he was in Hungary,” I added. “Aside from the many times that Russia has come up in my research, Hungary is the one country that has come up time and time again.”

  “How does Hungary fit into this?” Leon asked. “And where do the stolen weapons fit in?”

  “Well, that is for you to find out.” I said and looked at Manny. “Have you still not obtained any information on the other murdered artists? Or the ballistic reports?”

  Manny’s lips disappeared. Once again I had expressed my frustration uncensored. I was about to explain when Leon’s voice sounded strained. “The request that I sent last week to the local police stations conveniently disappeared. Apparently, it never even reached them. I refiled this morning and made sure that each one was received.”

  Concern settled deep in my brain. Manny’s insider had to have enough authority to be following this investigation. I started thinking about all the information that had electronically been communicated between us. With the exception of Colin and Vinnie’s presence, there wasn’t much unrevealed. Except my thought
s and theories.

  “Leon, have you ever heard of Piros?” That name still bothered me. Those thugs who broke into my apartment used it with enough fear to awaken concern.

  “Why?” The tone of Leon’s voice grabbed my attention. A wealth of suspicion and worry was delivered with that one word.

  “Because the men who broke into my apartment said that Piros was going to be very unhappy about what had happened in my apartment and he was going to require an immediate report. They also said that he had big plans.”

  Muffled words came through the phone, loud enough for me to raise my brows in surprise. I did not expect Leon to use such strong language. A look at Manny’s face made my stomach clench with dread.

  “Why the hell did you not tell me about this?” Manny pushed the words through clenched teeth.

  “Because I did not know where it fit in. If it fit anywhere. I still don’t know.”

  “So you withheld information from me?” His face was turning an alarming shade of red.

  “She just told you about that, Manny. Shall we move on?” Leon broke the glaring silence between Manny and myself. “Genevieve, Piros is a legend in Eastern Europe. Nobody has ever been able to put a name to the legend or to get close to him. He enjoys the protection of many powerful people in Central and Eastern Europe and apparently also in Russia.”

  “You remember the armies we told you about last week?” Angry tension pulled at Manny’s mouth. “The RNT? Well, Piros is the guy who trains these armies, missy.”

  “Manny, stop shouting at the girl.”

  Manny bit down hard and breathed loudly for a few moments. “Doctor Face-reader, are you very sure that those men said Piros? Were they speaking English?”

  “They were speaking English and Russian, and before you ask, I’m proficient in Russian. The fear in their voices is what made me take notice. Those guys were really large men, able to do someone serious bodily harm.” I suppressed an involuntary shiver. “Yet they were very visibly scared of this Piros.”

  “Manny, we can’t mention this anywhere official. This will open all kinds of Pandora’s boxes,” Leon said gravely.

  “I know.” Manny rubbed the back of his neck and looked at me. “The RNT soldier who escaped told Interpol a few things about Piros.”

  “Was that what you were not telling me when I asked about the trainer of the RNT?”

  “Yes. There are a lot of things that you don’t need to know, and at that point Piros being the trainer was one of those things.”

  I had no right to accuse Manny of withholding information that could have proven helpful if I had known it earlier. I was guilty of the same. And more. So I waited for him to continue.

  “There is a list of aliases possibly associated with Piros. Some of them are stolen identities, but none were ever confirmed to have direct ties to him. Our guy gave us two more names, but he gave us a lot more about the training. Apparently, Piros communicates with the soldiers during training through earpieces. As far as our guy knows, no one had ever seen him. All of them know his voice extremely well. It used to give our guy nightmares he would wake up from screaming. Piros would give them orders in four different languages.”

  “Which languages,” I asked.

  “English, Hungarian, Russian and French. They were expected to know all four. It was part of the qualification process. If they passed the psych eval, the training started. They had lectures where they were taught the legal and law enforcement procedures of different Western European countries. This bastard has an extensive knowledge of the internal workings of the system.”

  “Which only serves to reinforce our suspicions that he’s an official in an EU agency,” Leon said.

  Manny grunted. “Our guy said their equipment was the latest of everything. They lacked for nothing. During training Piros would watch them on the cameras that were placed all over the compound. They used to joke that he could be training them from anywhere in the world. A few of them started hating his voice in their ears all the time. They were never allowed to remove the earpieces, not even while they were sleeping. He said the worst was when Piros used the word red. Like for code red, red alert and some such things.”

  “Why red?” I asked.

  “When he said it in French, he used to draw it out in an awkward sound. Apparently that is where he got his name from.”

  “Piros is red in Hungarian,” I whispered as my heart slammed against my chest. My earlier suspicion had just been confirmed. “How long has Piros been active in Europe?”

  “The first time the name Piros was mentioned was about fifteen years ago.” Leon answered.

  “But according to our guy, he started not long after the Soviet Union was dissolved,” Manny added.

  “Okay, so two decades ago communism fell.” I was thinking out loud. “A lot of countries were suddenly freed from Russia’s rule. Many powerful people lost their power. A few of these went on to become involved in criminal activities.”

  “Most of them were already criminals.” Manny’s hatred for Russia was wearing me down. I glared at him until he lifted his hands and waited for me to continue.

  “They had to protect their enterprises and formed private armies. In comes this Piros person, ready to train these armies. Do you agree with me that it would be a reasonable assumption that this person would have had to have military training himself in order to train these armies?” Both men agreed with me. I cleared my throat nervously. “There is something else. I’ve been thinking a lot about those three sentences Chulkov shouted. When I translated it to Russian, his mother tongue, he might have been talking about Piros.”

  “What?” Manny shot up into the most aware posture I had yet seen him in. “Explain.”

  I did. When Manny’s eyes lost focus, I stopped explaining Russian grammar and its lack of definite and indefinite articles. I was forced to stick to the bare minimum. Such incomplete explanations left me unsatisfied, but it appeared to be enough to clarify things for Leon and Manny. “And before you shout at me again for not telling you sooner, it was and actually still is a mere educated guess.”

  “A bloody good one.” Manny relaxed into his chair. “That means that the Russian was shouting that Piros will end all twenty-seven daffodils? What the hell does that mean?”

  “If we’re going with my hypothesis, then twenty-seven and daffodils may also have different meanings.”

  “Like what?” Leon asked.

  “I’m still working on it.” Not that I was getting closer to anything that made sense.

  “This might be relevant or not, but our guy told Interpol that there were a lot of rumours about Piros’ love for art. Apparently he has quite an art collection. Not that anyone has seen it. Our guy couldn’t even remember where he had heard the rumour, but it fits in quite neatly with our case.”

  I frowned while weighing this bit of information. “It does fit in neatly, but since there is insubstantial conjecture, I will ignore it.”

  Manny looked offended. “You’re the one always saying that even the smallest detail might be the most important key to unlock this secret.”

  “I know I’ve never said anything like that.” As if I would use an analogy like that. My mind was, however, already going in a new direction. “Leon, you told me last week that you had concerns about Commander Crenshaw. That you didn’t trust him?”

  “Did I say that?”

  “Yes, you did. Should I tell you exactly what you said?”

  “She will. This woman remembers everything word for word.” Manny sounded like he enjoyed telling Leon this.

  “Oh dear,” Leon sighed. “Well, yes. There was something about Crenshaw’s by-the-way attitude that didn’t sit well with me. He knew he was not supposed to inquire about the investigation, yet he did. He was using our history to buddy up to me.”

  “And you told us that he spent a lot of time in Hungary, in Eastern Europe. Is it possible that he could be this Piros person?”

  From the look on
Manny’s face, I might have suggested that vampires exist, psychics are to be believed and the tooth fairy was real. The silence on the other side of the line precluded me from knowing Leon’s reaction to my question.

  “Holy mother of all the saints,” Manny eventually breathed. “Leon?”

  “I don’t know, this is a lot to think about,” came the quiet answer. “I have a meeting coming up and have to go pretty soon. Let me give this some more thought. I’ll get back to you.”

  The line was abruptly disconnected. Manny glared at the phone in his hand and then looked at me. “You certainly know how to kick open a hornets’ nest.”

  I knew this expression, but did not think it fitting. “What do you mean?”

  “Genevieve, if what you’ve just told me is true, it will do irreparable damage to Eurocorps. To have such a notorious criminal as a powerful official in one of the most prestigious agencies in Europe would devastate its credibility. Much more than a little sex scandal. It would destroy all the careful negotiations between Russia and the EU. God, Eurocorps might never recover from this.”

  “Oh.” Whether it was geographical, religious or otherwise, the fragility of politics always amazed me. I gave my mind free rein for a few moments and then gasped at my own brilliance. “Do you have footage of these gala events?”

  Manny looked confused and glanced at the monitors against the wall. “You mean video footage of the charity events?”

  “Yes. Do you have any footage of the people attending? All those high officials?”

  “There should be some footage of it. I can remember last year there was a whole camera crew annoying the hell out of me. They were everywhere, all the time, trying to get as many VIP’s as possible on video. They even wanted to interview me.” He sneered at the memory.

  “Fantastic.” Excitement rushed through me. This was it. This was what I was good at. “Bring me as much as possible. From last year, the year before, it doesn’t matter. The more I see, the more I can read.”

  Manny gave me a sideways look, but I didn’t care that he looked at me as if I was a newly discovered species. I was thrilled with the prospect of watching the interaction between all these people who had come up in my discoveries. And to have all of them in one room? Not only would I be able to put faces to these people, but I would be able to read their faces. If they were taped by a professional crew, so much the better. The quality would also help a lot. Watching this footage would tell me so much more than a biography on a website.

  “I’ll phone now to have it put on the network. Give me five minutes.” He got up with a groan. Exhaustion lined his eyes. “I’m also going to have to speak to Phillip. I’ll pop in again a bit later.”

  He disappeared through the door and I turned to my computers. I had been so busy with the case, working through loads of data that I hadn’t watched any footage in what felt like months. It had been only two weeks. I loved observing the subtleties of human interaction. People had no idea how much like, dislike, distrust or love they communicated without uttering a single word. Impatiently I glared at the EDA computer, waiting for the footage.

 

  Chapter EIGHTEEN