The Malhoa Connection Read online

  I studied her. “You have a well-developed instinct. I trust you. You should trust yourself. Do what you need to, but don’t hold back information because you don’t trust yourself.”

  She blinked at me a few times. “Oh, Genevieve.” Her voice faltered and tears filled her eyes. “You’re the bestest bestie.”

  I didn’t know how to react to that, so I turned our attention back to the situation that brought us here. “Did you get the information you wanted originally from Ty?”

  “No. He chased me and my bleeding face out of his dingy house.” Her soft smile belied her rude assessment of Ty. “But he’ll ping me the moment he’s got something.”

  It was quiet around the table for a few seconds.

  Until Manny sighed heavily. “I suppose that means we’re going to bloody Portugal tomorrow morning.”

  “Did you find what Armando gave us?” Colin asked.

  “We’ve got the painting, the cars and the emerald.” Manny took his phone from his trouser pocket and swiped the screen. “Still no news on those access codes.”

  “It will be where Armando said.” Colin winced. “I don’t trust Paulo at all, but Armando would’ve made sure those codes were where he promised. He might be a thief, but Armando is a man of his word.”

  “More like a thief of his word.” Roxy grinned when Vinnie groaned.

  Manny took Francine’s hand and looked at me. “Pack your things, Doc. We’re flying first thing tomorrow morning.”

  Chapter SEVEN

  THIS WAS THE MOST LUXURIOUS interior of a private plane I’d yet seen. Not that I’d been in many private jets. The horror of leaving such a heavy carbon footprint had prevented me from taking this kind of travel on my own. One small virus had changed that. The paralysing anxiety of being in a plane with people who might be carrying an infectious disease outweighed any guilt now.

  Armando had reassured us that the plane had been sanitised to the highest standards and we could touch any surface without wasting our concern on infections. I still didn’t want to touch anything.

  I walked through the galley to the passenger section. Behind me was the cockpit—the door’s shining wood veneer the same as all the counters and numerous other finishing touches. The passenger area could seat nine people. To my right were three rows of two cream leather seats and to the left three single chairs. The first row faced the front, but the last two rows were facing each other with a gleaming table in between. The single chairs were arranged the same.

  I walked to the last row and was about to move in when Colin touched my shoulder. I looked at him and frowned when he pointed at the seats facing the back. I preferred facing the front, but when Manny glared at me, I realised there was some strategic reason they wanted those seats. I sighed and moved into the second-last row, settling against the window. Being able to look out always eased the looming claustrophobia. Colin sat down next to me, Daniel and Manny facing us. Armando winked at me as he sat down across the aisle from us, in the second-last row, the same row as me.

  Vinnie was last to board. He inspected the interior of the plane with the same intensity as Daniel and Manny did, but with more hostility. He walked past us into the next section. The same type of wood-veneer divider that separated the galley from this section also gave the other section a sense of privacy.

  Despite the spacious interior, the plane was still small enough that I could see the detailed finishing on the door to the washroom at the end of the second section. A cream leather sofa was on the left. I couldn’t see what was across from the sofa. Suddenly, it really troubled me that I didn’t know what was behind the wood veneer divider I was looking at.

  Vinnie appeared next to us. “Who the fuck has a sofa and a bigass TV in a plane?” He looked at Colin. “Did you see that size of that screen?”

  “Sit down, big guy.” Manny nodded at the open seat facing Armando.

  Vinnie looked at us, taking in Manny and Daniel’s positions, and turned around to face Armando. His hands fisted. “Move.” He pointed to the seat facing the front. “You can sit there. I’m checking out that sofa and TV.”

  A shudder ran down my spine as I realised their strategy. Manny and Daniel could watch the front of the plane for any threats, Vinnie and Colin would have a view of the back. My breath hitched and I gripped Colin’s hand even tighter. My mind didn’t process dangerous situations well.

  Armando’s eyes narrowed for a moment, but his half-smile lifted the corner of his mouth. He moved to the seat across and gestured to the other. “All yours.”

  Vinnie grunted and sat down as a man in his mid-thirties, dressed in uniform, came into the cabin and walked to stand between us. “Good morning, folks. I’m Captain Andrew Roberts and I’ll be taking you to Lisbon today. The flight will be two hours and thirty-three minutes, but since we have a tail wind, we might be able to shave a few minutes off that. I checked the weather, and you’re very lucky. It’s been raining on and off for a good three weeks in Lisbon, but today will be sunny with a high of seventeen degrees Celsius.” He smiled at me. “I’ll keep you updated as we progress.” He looked at Manny. “As per your request, our flight attendant won’t be joining us today, but we’ve prepared snacks and other refreshments for you. Please feel free to help yourself in the galley. Enjoy your flight.” He nodded at Manny, then at Daniel and walked back to the cockpit.

  “As per your request?” Vinnie snorted.

  Manny lowered his brow and stared at Vinnie, then jerked his chin towards Armando. “Did you expect I was just going to trust a criminal I don’t know with our transportation?”

  I didn’t know when or how Manny had contacted the captain or even who the plane belonged to. I was dealing with enough distress without adding that to my list. My anxiety spiked even higher the moment the engines rumbled to life. I hadn’t had enough time to prepare myself mentally for this flight. My past journeys had taken months of planning and given me the time needed to be ready for hurtling through the air in an enclosed space with other people.

  The last few flights hadn’t afforded me that luxury. These had been last-minute arrangements that had been necessitated by cases we’d been working on. I resented not having the time my neurodiverse mind needed, but also understood that life didn’t work according to my schedule.

  To give my mind something constructive to keep it occupied, I turned my attention away from Armando settling in his new seat and Manny and Vinnie’s bickering. Instead, I focused on the planning we’d done last night.

  Pink, Francine, Thierry and Bianca were already in Portugal. Manny had been able to arrange a flight for them on a Eurocorps military plane. He’d contacted one of the men he’d met during our first case together. They’d been happy to accommodate Francine and the others in the predawn flight to Lisbon.

  Francine had phoned me before their flight this morning to ‘chat’. That was the word she often used when she either wanted to complain about Manny or gossip about somebody. It had been Manny’s over-protectiveness that had caused her exaggerated discontent.

  After they’d left us last night, Manny had taken her to a clinic and refused to hear her reassurances that she was okay. He’d made the doctors do all the necessary tests to ensure she had no broken facial bones or internal injuries. Only then had they gone home. She was furious that she loved him for this, but also that they’d wasted all that time. I didn’t understand her neurotypical reasoning.

  Two hours ago, she’d sent me an SMS to let me know they’d landed and were on their way to the hotel. President Godard had indeed contacted President Pedroso and briefed him on our case. The latter had assured President Godard that we had his full support to follow our investigation wherever it led. He’d been fighting to get rid of corruption within the higher ranks of law enforcement, but it had been an uphill battle for him.

  He’d recommended a hotel that he often used to host dignitaries and even hold meetings when there was a need for a less official setting. He’d given us the rooms permanently
reserved for presidential use. Even though he was confident in the hotel’s security and privacy, Francine had promised to make sure that we would not be compromised while we stayed there.

  I had been surprised that President Pedroso had readily agreed that Manny, Daniel and the rest of the GIPN team who were joining us could bring their weapons. On the one hand it made me feel safer, but a larger part of me hated that we even needed to have guns on this investigation. Before my mind veered off towards an anxiety attack, I brought it back to our planning.

  During our discussions last night, we’d decided it was best that Armando and the other three criminals didn’t know that we were bringing reinforcements. Francine and Pink would be working the computers, continuing the search for the Collector’s online activities, while Thierry and Bianca watched over us. All from a distance.

  I glanced over at Armando. He was nodding his head to whatever music was playing on his headphones. He’d been studiously ignoring us as soon as he’d changed seats. Every few minutes, Vinnie glared at him.

  Without my training, I might have believed Armando’s relaxed posture, making it look as if he was lost in thought. But I saw the tension around his mouth and his conscious effort to relax his fingers every time they curled around the armrests. I was also not convinced that he was listening to music. His rhythm was off. Either he was listening to music with random or alternating beats, he had an atrocious sense of rhythm or he was listening in on our conversation.

  “Look.” Colin nudged me with his elbow. He was holding his tablet for me to see. “This is The Drunks.”

  I’d had a quick glance at the photo when we’d first heard about it being stolen from the consulate general. It had been a badly lit photo and I’d been too preoccupied with a crime connected to the Collector in our city. Now, I leaned closer and studied the screen.

  In the centre of the painting was a table, six men around it, all clearly drunk. The man in the foreground looked like he might be sleeping, the top half of his body resting on the table, his shirt undone. One of the three men on the far side of the table was also sprawled over the table, his eyes barely open. He was holding what looked like an empty ceramic jug and a turned-over bowl was in front of him. The table was a complete mess.

  The detail José Malhoa was able to capture in their expressions impressed me. It showed their inebriation in different stages. The lighting in the painting brought the focus across the table to the sleeping man in front and the jug-holding man catching most of the attention. I liked it.

  “Malhoa is one of those success stories that should be told more often.” Colin tilted his tablet for Manny and Daniel to see. “He went to the Fine Art school in Lisbon when he was only twelve. Eight years later, he’d won first prizes every year, but he couldn’t get a scholarship to continue his studies. So he had to work for his older brother in a clothing store.

  “Fortunately for us, he didn’t stop painting. About four years later, his work was accepted for an exhibition in Madrid. People loved it. A typical case of working for years to become an overnight success.” Colin straightened, his passion visible on his face. “After that, he stopped working for his brother and dedicated himself to his art. He founded the Society of Fine Art and rubbed shoulders with other influential Portuguese painters of the time. He won numerous awards and honours, not only for his art, but also for his contribution to the Portuguese artist community.”

  Daniel and Colin continued talking about famous people who hadn’t been recognised by peers or teachers until they’d fought their way to the top of their fields. I glanced once more at Armando.

  Late last night, Captain Bouvier had reported back to us that the access codes didn’t lead to a nuclear plant in North Korea. It was the username and password to a folder in a cloud. Captain Bouvier had given it to his cybersecurity team to study. So far, they’d found an exhaustive list of suspected Russian FSB agents working in numerous European countries. The cybersecurity team was currently validating that information and a lot more they’d found.

  It was not what Armando had promised, but President Godard had been more than pleased to receive that kind of intel. Despite Manny’s insistence and Vinnie’s anger, we’d decided not to confront Armando about that mistake. I didn’t think he knew that he’d given us something different to what he said.

  Colin was the one who’d argued to keep Armando uninformed about this. Colin’s past experience with Paulo had given him some insight into the man and he wasn’t surprised that Paulo was playing games.

  “Lady and gentlemen, a quick announcement to let you know we are now in Portuguese airspace.” The captain’s voice held that professional friendliness expected in high-end customer service. Warm, but distant. “We’ll start our descent soon and land even earlier than expected. Now might be a good time for a last cup of tea.”

  Manny shifted in his seat to look past Daniel at Vinnie. “Shake that arsehole awake.”

  Vinnie kicked Armando’s feet under the table. “Wakey, wakey.”

  “Hmm?” Armando blinked a few times and took off his headphones. “What?”

  “You are skilled in your pretence.” I narrowed my eyes at him. “You are also vastly underestimating my skill at reading you. You’ve been awake this entire flight, listening to our conversation.”

  “The fuck, dude!” Vinnie kicked his feet again.

  Armando winked at me. “I’m not really underestimating. Just hoping.”

  “For what?”

  “Hoping you won’t out me every single time.”

  Vinnie snorted. “Oh, dude. You have no chance of that happening.”

  “Speak.” Manny pointed at the window beside Armando. “We’re in Portuguese airspace now.”

  Armando swallowed, then rolled his shoulders, his half-smile never faltering. “What would you like to know?”

  “Stop playing games, Armando.” Colin turned to face him. “We’re here. We’re helping. Your manipulation is only going to piss us all off and you definitely don’t want that.”

  Armando sobered. “You’re right. I apologise. I’m not used to working with people who don’t have a hidden agenda. Um. Okay. I promised to tell you what I know.”

  My eyebrows rose when I registered his expression. “Why do you feel guilty?”

  “Aw, bloody hell.” Manny slumped in his seat.

  “I really don’t have much more intel on the Collector. Not much more than I already shared with you.” His smile was rueful and genuine. “We have lots of little bits of intel on the Collector, but nothing that makes sense together.”

  “Give us access to that intel now.” Colin lifted his tablet. He was very likely going to send that access to Francine and Pink to comb through.

  “It’s all on paper in the church.”

  “The church?” Daniel asked.

  “We set up shop in an old Orthodox church. It’s been empty for three years, but was used before as a school, an abbey and even a military building. It’s on government land, but Paulo has usufruct for twenty years. It’s secure.”

  I pointed at his face. “You don’t believe it’s secure.”

  He grunted and sighed as he looked at me. “This is going to be really difficult for me.”

  “Make it easy and tell the truth,” Colin said.

  “Okay. Yes. I don’t trust Paulo as far as I can throw him. And that isn’t far. So when he promised high and low that the church is safe... well, forgive me for not blindly believing that.”

  “No need for snark, dude.” Vinnie crossed his arms, his eyes narrowed. “What kind of security is there?”

  “Video, biometrics, motion sensors, the works.”

  “When did he install this?” Daniel leaned slightly forward. “When you started working together?”

  Manny was tapping on his smartphone screen, undoubtedly informing Francine. I knew her well enough to be confident that she would locate the church before we landed and have access to Paulo’s security system before we arrived there.
r />   “The security was there when I got there the first time.” Armando shrugged. “I figured he’s hiding stuff there that he doesn’t want anyone else to see. Including us. There are a few sections that are seriously locked.”

  “How can a lock be serious?” I waved my hand to dismiss this thought. I didn’t want to waste time on nonsensical expressions. “Tell us more about the information that you have on paper.”

  Armando took a moment to answer. “Jake brought us most of it. Receipts, magazines and other scraps that he got from the Collector’s garbage.”

  “He knows where the Collector lives?” Manny’s voice rose in agitation. “Why the bloody hell didn’t you start with that?”

  “Because Jake doesn’t know. None of us do.” Armando gave a dismissive wave with his hand. “Jake got that rubbish from his source.”

  “Which means that we can’t really make use of that.” Colin sighed. “Oh, Armando.”

  “Why can’t you use that?”

  Vinnie gave Armando a look that indicated his opinion of Armando’s intelligence. “Dude. Seriously.”

  “What?” Armando looked from Vinnie to Colin. “What?”

  “Do you personally know this alleged source?” Manny’s scowl intensified. “Can you trust this source implicitly? Do you trust Jake implicitly? I don’t have to be a bloody face-reader to know your answer is no.”

  “So?”

  “You can’t possibly be that daft.” Manny turned to Colin. “Is he that daft?”

  Colin chuckled. “No. He’s a brilliant thief, but maybe not so good with people.”

  “The Collector might have planted this source to feed Jake the information he wants you to have.” Daniel nodded when Armando’s eyes widened. “You get it now.”

  “Oh, God.” Armando’s nonchalance disappeared. “Have we been chasing our tails this whole time?”

  “Maybe.” Colin shrugged. “We’ll only know when we see what you have.”