The Becić Connection Page 8

  “Scared.” Nikki nodded. Then she rolled her eyes, took a few steps closer and hugged him hard. “I was terrified. But I’m here and fine. Marty’s also here.” She raised her head and winked at Martin. “He’s a little bit less fine than me, but we’re okay.”

  Vinnie’s arms tightened around her before he put his hands on her shoulders and held her away from him. “I’m sorry.”

  “Forgiven.”

  “Oh, for the love of all the holy saints!” Manny shoved his hands in his trouser pockets. “Tell us what the bleeding hell happened, Nikki.”

  She smiled and stepped back to stand next to Pink. “I only remember being grabbed when I parked by the restaurant. I don’t even remember being injected. The next thing I knew, I woke up tied up. I knew we were flying. The floor under me was vibrating in that airplane way. The only other thing I knew was that I had to escape and get back to Eric.”

  “She was fighting like a wildcat.” Martin’s smile was small, but genuine. He looked at Vinnie. “And the words coming out of her mouth were clearly inspired by you.”

  “They earned every word I threw at them.” She shook her head. “I was trying to get out of the ropes around my hands when they brought in Marty. He was blindfolded.”

  “They’d punched me a few times, but I was still okay.”

  “Not really.” She pointed at his face. “That cut on his cheek was bleeding like a mother and...” She swallowed. “He looked terrible.”

  “And that’s how they got you to co-operate.” Luka nodded in understanding.

  Nikki’s chin started quivering. “I just couldn’t let them hurt him more.”

  “Yet they did.” Pink put his arm around Nikki’s shoulders and pulled her closer to him.

  She leaned against him and took a shaky breath. “After we landed, they blindfolded me as well, put us in a van and drove for a while until we got to a farmhouse. There they wanted me to work. When I first refused, they hurt Marty a lot.”

  “What did they want you to do?” Colin asked. “Does it have something to do with the Becić?”

  She nodded. “You saw my burglary?”

  Bruno’s and Zork’s eyes widened and Luka frowned deeply. “Burglary. Yes, Daniel mentioned that. I would like to know more about this.”

  “Burglary, my ass.” Vinnie snorted. “The only skill you showed was posing for the security cameras. There was no skill in how you took that painting, little punk. Clearly, I have failed miserably in teaching you anything.”

  “Stop.” Luka put both his hands on his head, then lowered them to his hips. “I have so many questions.” He turned to Vinnie. “Who did you say you were?”

  “Vinnie, dude.” His expression mimicked Nikki’s when she considered the question too obvious to require an answer.

  “Whe...” Luka stopped when Manny put out his hand, palm up.

  “Later.” Manny glared at Nikki. “Work? The Becić? Talk.”

  “He wanted me to find recent changes to the Becić as well as another painting.”

  “He who?” Luka asked.

  Nikki shuddered. “That Florian guy. Well, I think it was his name. I only heard them use it once.”

  Colin took out his phone and swiped the screen a few times. He turned the screen and held it out to Nikki. “This him?”

  She took the phone from him and frowned. “He looked different. He didn’t have the chin hair.”

  “There are a few more photos,” Colin said. “Swipe right.”

  She did and nodded. “Definitely the asswipe who orchestrated everything.” She stopped at one photo, her eyebrows raised. “Wow. I can see it’s him, but he’s clearly disguised. Wait. Is this in front of Marty’s office?”

  “What?” Martin held out his hand and took the phone when Nikki gave it to him. “What the... This is Alain Chabal. My client.”

  “Martin, meet Florian Brasseur.” Colin’s tone was kind. “He’s the true owner of Beaulieu Art and an accomplished art restorer, but he is also a criminal.”

  “A criminal?” Martin stared wide-eyed at Colin, his mouth slightly agape. Then his shoulders sagged. “Dammit. I suspected something and wasn’t surprised when Sebastien asked me to look into him. But I thought he was just into some white-collar crime. Not this kind of thing.” He pointed at his face, then at Nikki. “Kidnapping? Beating me up? What kind of criminal is he?”

  “Art crimes.” Colin clenched his jaw and took a deep breath. “I don’t know Florian very well. I’ve met him a few times and know about his work, but honestly didn’t think he would resort to this kind of violence. He’s into restoring masterpieces bought on the black market and fencing stolen art and forgeries. I’ve never heard of him doing anything like this.”

  Luka shook his head. “So many, many, many questions.”

  Colin smiled and Manny grunted. “Like I said. Later.” He looked at Martin. “You didn’t recognise Florian?”

  “No.” Martin grimaced. “I was blindfolded most of the time. I didn’t see him until we reached the farmhouse. By that time my focus was on not hurting. And on the fists and shoes coming at me. To be honest, I didn’t really look at any of them.”

  Manny grunted and looked at me. “Doc?”

  “What?” This time I didn’t know what he expected from me. I was quietly observing everyone, registering every nonverbal cue and relaxing in the knowledge that Nikki was safe.

  Manny’s brows pulled closer in a scowl. “Can we trust these Croatians?”

  I blinked a few times. Luka and his team’s nonverbal cues clearly communicated the offence they’d taken at Manny’s question. I took my time to answer. “Yes. Firstly, they’ve shown no body language to indicate anything to be concerned about. And secondly—”

  “Daniel vouched for them,” Pink said. “I trust Daniel with my life. I also trust his instincts when it comes to people.”

  Luka nodded at Pink. “Dan told me you guys don’t work within the normal parameters. I get that. I’m just concerned about hearing things that sound like you might be crossing legal borders.”

  “We don’t,” Manny said.

  “We kinda do.” Vinnie shrugged. “We only cross stupid legal borders. Nothing important.”

  I pressed my lips together. Hard. How could anyone distinguish between legal borders that were important and ones that were not? The times Francine illegally hacked a system or Colin illegally entered a building and stole something were the times that I struggled with their subjective interpretations. I could never dispute the fact that Francine’s hacking had saved many lives and Colin only stole things on order from Interpol or the several other law enforcement agencies that contracted his help. Yet it bothered me greatly.

  “None of this is important now.” Colin’s tone was neutral. “Right now, we need to find out what Florian is up to.” He looked at Nikki. “Recent changes?”

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  “Did you find any?”

  “I think so.”

  “What do you mean, you think so?” Manny asked.

  “Restoring a painting is a delicate process. It is very, very easy to damage a painting. It’s slow work if you want to make sure you do everything right.” Her cheeks reddened with anger as she pressed a clenched fist hard against her thigh. “This Florian idiot wanted me to work fast. If he’s such a great restorer, why didn’t he do it himself?”

  “I have no idea, Nix.” Colin let out a harsh breath. “I intend to ask him as soon as we find him. Do you know what he wanted you to find?”

  “No. He just told me...” She closed her eyes as her chin started quivering. After a few deep breaths, she looked at me. “He was beating Marty to make me work faster.”

  “She worked very fast.” Martin’s tone was consoling, his expression gentle.

  I cleared my throat. “Concise and in chronological order, Nikki.”

  She smiled. “Sure, Doc G. Okay, here it is. This Florian idiot put me in a large and well-lit room in the farmhouse. He told me in detail all t
he things he would do to Marty if I didn’t work fast and find recent changes in both paintings. He said that he would have a third painting within the next twenty-four hours and that I had that time to find what he wanted in the Becić and the Račić.”

  “A Josip Račić?” Colin’s eyes were wide, his torso leaning towards Nikki.

  “Yes, Florian had me take the Becić. I have no idea how he got a hold of Račić’s Na Seini. But he told me that recent changes in both paintings will show similarities. Florian knew that I’m good at my job and that I notice patterns.”

  “The community is small. Your reputation is already doing the rounds, Nix.” There was pride in Colin’s tone and expression. “You’re a rising star.”

  “Who really doesn’t want to be kidnapped because I do a good job.”

  “Back on point.” My tone was too sharp. I softened my expression. “Please.”

  “On point. Right.” Nikki nodded. “I reckon we got to the farmhouse at around one or two in the morning. I was immediately put to work. Then at around five... I think...” She looked at Martin, who shrugged. “Yeah, around five this morning, Florian got a call and left. There was only one other man in the house.”

  “He was the guy who took great pleasure in using me as a punching bag.”

  Nikki sighed as she looked at Martin. “Yeah. He totally deserved what he got.” Her chest puffed out and she looked at Vinnie. “He fell asleep on his chair while watching me work. So I hit him over the head. Hard. With a large can of paint. I might’ve cracked his skull.”

  “That’s my girl.” Vinnie held out his fist and she bumped her fist against his.

  “Then I had to drag this one out of the house.” She pointed her chin at Martin. She sniffed lightly and glanced at Luka before looking at Manny. “I stole the other guy’s phone and car. But the damn thing didn’t have much petrol, so we didn’t get very far from that farmhouse. Maybe thirty kilometres. We dumped the car and walked for four hours before we found this place. That’s when I put the battery back in the phone and sent the three words.”

  Pink kissed the top of her head. “You’re amazing, Nix.”

  “Yeah.” Zork nodded. “You kept a cool head. Not many people would do what you did.”

  “She nearly killed me.” Martin looked at Manny. “I think she found her drill sergeant inspiration from you. She wouldn’t let me rest for one moment.”

  I saw the regret, sadness and fear flash over Nikki’s features. “You just like to whine, you wuss.”

  Martin snorted, then held his ribs with a groan. “She saved my butt.”

  A micro-expression on Martin’s face caught my attention. I narrowed my eyes and studied his face as Nikki answered Luka’s questions about the location of the farmhouse where Florian had held them.

  “I thought it would be best to walk in a different direction than what we were driving in. I’m pretty sure we were driving east when the car ran out of fuel. But I’m sure we were walking north when the sun came up.” She pressed her fingers to her lips and thought for a few seconds. “Well, north-ish.”

  “Do you remember the car make and model?”

  “Um...”

  “An old Nissan Qashqai,” Martin said. “Maybe a model from seven, eight, nine years ago. Dark blue.”

  “Martin.” I waited for him to look at me. And to realise I was analysing him. As soon as he did, the guilt I’d glimpsed before came back in full force. I tried to soften my expression and tone. “Why guilt?”

  “Guilt?” Manny stepped closer to Martin, his arms held out to his sides. Threatening. “What the bloody hell?”

  Martin leaned back, his eyes widening in fear. He raised both hands.

  “Manny, stop.” My heart rate increased at the genuine fear evident on Martin’s face. Once he’d told Nikki how intimidated he felt by us. He thought we were all confident, accomplished and strong. He didn’t know if he would ever be able to live up to the standard that we set. On his face, I saw the fear of losing the respect we had for him. I walked away from the comfort of Colin’s nearness and stopped in front of Martin. “I know you. You would never do anything to put Nikki, Eric or even us in danger. Not willingly.”

  “Never.” He looked at Manny. “I swear. If I’d known that looking into Alain... um... Florian would cause him to do this, I would never have done it.”

  “You would’ve.” I knew that. “Not only because Sebastian asked you, but also because you suspected something. Your ethics wouldn’t allow you to work with or for someone who would violate what you believe in.”

  He swallowed. “Thank you, Genevieve.”

  I nodded.

  “Now tell us what the bloody hell you’re feeling guilty about.” Manny’s scowl had softened, but not disappeared.

  “I don’t know. I’m trying to make sense of this.”

  “Lad.” Manny lowered his chin, staring at Martin. “Tell us what you know.”

  “Did you speak to Seba... Okay, you did. So you know that I was looking into Alain Chabal. I didn’t find much. I had just found a mention of the name Florian Brasseur and was about to look more into that name when Alain phoned me.” He rubbed his temple. “God, this is confusing. Okay, I’m just going to call him Florian now. So he phoned me.”

  “What did he want?” Manny asked.

  “At first I got worried that he suspected something. That he’d found out I was looking into him. But he just wanted to chat about a contract he was considering with an art restorer. He was thinking about expanding his business and wanted to hire three new people. There have been a few small changes to the labour law this year and he wanted to know what it meant for contracting artists. If full-time or freelancing would be a better option for his company and for his workers.”

  He frowned and looked at Manny, then at Colin. “Are you sure his company Beaulieu Art really exists? No, wait, I know it does. I did my due diligence on his company when Sebastien brought him in as a client. Alain Chabal is registered as the owner of the company. Florian Brasseur is registered as some consultant or another. It was in the fine print of some document. I’ll have to go thro—”

  “You’re rambling, Marty.” Nikki gently kicked his shoe. “Why did Florian phone you?”

  Martin thought about this for a moment. “It was a really nice chat.”

  “He’s highly skilled at putting people at ease.” Colin tilted his head, his orbicularis oculi muscles softening, his expression understanding.

  Martin sighed. “He succeeded. God, I’ll have to be more careful.” Again, he pressed his hand against his temple. “It was easily a twenty-minute conversation. He was chatting about the people in his industry. Art exhibitions. Hmm... wait. He also wanted to know about one of my clients that he met at an art exhibition. Now I don’t even know if they really met and talked about me or whether Florian was just fishing.”

  “Who is this other client?” Manny already had his smartphone in his hand.

  “Goran Radja.” Martin spelled the surname for Manny as he typed it into his smartphone.

  “I’ll get Francine to check out this person.” Manny put his phone back in his trouser pocket. “Who is he to you?”

  “He was a client.” Martin’s stare was unfocused, his brow furrowed. He blinked a few times. “I don’t know much. He was Sebastien’s client for eleven or twelve years. He died five months ago. Last week, Sebastien asked me to handle his estate.”

  “Hmm.” Colin’s eyes narrowed. “Okay. So Goran Radja died five months ago. And four months ago, Florian—well, Alain Chabal—became Sebastien’s client. That is not a coincidence.”

  “It isn’t?” Martin frowned.

  “Nope.” Pink shook his head slowly. When Martin gestured his confusion, raising both hands, Pink gave him a summary of what we’d learned so far. I was greatly relieved when Pink didn’t expand or give irrelevant information.

  I took this time to study Luka’s team. Their micro-expressions while looking at us had changed significantly since we’d f
irst met them two hours and twenty-three minutes ago. Their suspicion, caution and reluctance to engage were replaced by respect and curiosity. Even when they were looking at Colin and Vinnie, they didn’t display the same wariness as when they’d first met the two men and only received first names.

  Zork and Bruno were completely focused on Pink as he told Martin about our visit to Sebastien. It was Luka and the quiet team member whose eyes kept roving around. I recognised it. They maintained a high situational awareness even though we were safe.

  “And that’s how we landed here.” Pink hugged Nikki against his side. “It’s all her.”

  “Now tell us about this Goran client.” Manny took his phone from his trouser pocket and swiped the screen. “Let me get Francine in on this.”

  He tapped the screen and waited. The ringtone sounded only once before Francine’s voice came over the speakers. “Hey, you sexy beast.”

  “You’re on speaker, woman.” Manny shook his phone. “Martin has something to tell us.”

  “Okey-dokey.”

  Manny held the phone closer to Martin. “Speak.”

  Martin’s smile was genuine. “Hi, Francine. I’m telling them about Goran Radja. He was Sebastien’s client until five months ago when he died.” He looked at us. “I honestly haven’t had much time to look into him. The little I remember from glancing at his file is that he owned three houses. And he was a professor at the Academy of Applied Arts faculty of the University of Rovinj.”

  “Professor of what?” I asked.

  “Um... art history? Yes, art history.” Martin blinked a few times. “This is an awful lot of art connections. Huh. Anyway, he never married and didn’t have any children.” He looked at Luka. “He’s Croatian, but I don’t know why he was our client and didn’t hire a law firm here in Croatia.”

  “We’ll look into him as well.” Luka nodded at Zork. “Get on this.”

  Zork nodded, took his phone and tapped on the screen. He continued for a few seconds, then stopped and looked at Martin. “Please go on.”

  “Um, well. There really isn’t that much I can tell you. He was our client for eleven or twelve years and didn’t have a last will and testament. I mean, really. Who doesn’t have a last will and testament? Why use a law firm to make sure all your art acquisitions are legal and registered, but don’t put anything in a will?”