The Malhoa Connection Page 9

  Manny tilted his head and took a few steps to the left, Daniel moving to our right. Vinnie moved to stand directly in front of me, his left hand stretched out towards us—keeping us back.

  “Ooh, someone smells really good.” A woman appeared from behind the first stack just as Armando neared it. Inge Weiss. There was no mistaking her identity. She looked exactly as she had in the photos I’d seen of her. She was wearing well-worn jeans that Francine would scoff at. My best friend always insisted that jeans were not made to shapelessly hang off anyone’s frame. They should fit well to a body, only a slight flare at the bottom permissible if needed for boots. Even loose-fitting jeans should flatter one’s figure.

  Inge’s ash-blonde hair was in a short, nondescript style, her make-up applied with a heavy, unskilled hand and her sweater too large. Her polite smile changed when she saw Armando, lifting her cheeks and crinkling the corners of her eyes. “You’re back.”

  Some of the tension left his muscles as he nodded. He turned back to us. “Inge, I would like you to meet—”

  “—Doctor Genevieve Lenard.” Inge’s eyes widened in pleasure and for a moment she leaned forward, her hand moving towards me. Then she straightened. “I suppose this isn’t a good time for handshakes and hugs. I’m truly so happy to meet you. May I call you Genevieve?”

  I nodded.

  “Fantabulous. I’m so glad there’s another woman in the house. All these men cause a stink with their testosterone.” Her wink aimed at Vinnie and Colin was the opposite to Francine’s flirtatiousness. Instead, Inge’s gestures conveyed a maternal tenderness that would have been disarming. Had it been genuine.

  Her acting equalled Colin’s when he slipped into the role of one of his aliases. What made her a challenge to read was the honest nonverbal cues. Her smile was unaffected as well as her pleasure to see me. But the maternal tone and benevolence weren’t. She turned to Manny, the false affability not reaching her eyes. “You must be General Millard. Also a huge pleasure to meet you.”

  “It’s Colonel Millard.” Manny studied her through narrow eyes. “And why would it be a pleasure to meet me?”

  “Because you are feared throughout our little community. People know you always get your man.” The fear that I’d seen on Armando’s face flashed across hers. “And I hope that you will help us stop the Collector.”

  “Hmph.” Manny slouched even lower. “We’ll see about that.”

  Inge turned to Daniel. “You’re the one who smells so good. Manly. Sandalwood and... give me a moment...” She leaned closer to Daniel and inhaled deeply. “Tobacco and a whiff of cinnamon. Great combo. I’m so sorry that we had to get your attention in such a rude manner. I hope you weren’t hurt with that silly stun gun.”

  “Just my pride.” Daniel returned her smile, his genuine. “But you got us here and ready to work.”

  “And not sniff each other.” Manny grunted. “Whiff of bloody cinnamon.”

  “The cinnamon I get, but tobacco?” Vinnie frowned at Daniel. “You don’t smoke.”

  “Oh, no.” Inge’s laugh was real. “Not cigarettes. No, the tobacco plant. Adding a tobacco note to a scent can give it an earthy, woody element that is very sensual.” She blinked a few times as if surprised. “Sorry. My nose is very sensitive and I sometimes go a bit overboard placing fragrances.”

  “Hyperosmia.” It was most fascinating that she had this condition. “It’s also colloquially known as being a ‘super-smeller’. This happens when you have increased grey matter volume in the anterior insula and in the hippocampus. Both regions in the brain are essential for the integration of olfactory information as well as odour memory and odour learning.”

  “Holy hell, Doc.” Manny glared at me. “On topic. Stay on topic.”

  “Of course.” I looked at Inge, then at Armando. “We’re here. Where are Jake and Paulo? And where is the information you have on the Collector?”

  Inge turned to the side and waved towards the part of the room we couldn’t see. “It’s all there.”

  I was intrigued by Inge. In the time she’d engaged us in a banal conversation, she’d evaluated each of us. Was she using instinct or academic knowledge to assess us? It was obvious that she had ignored Colin and Vinnie and I wondered why. She’d noticed Colin holding my hand, but her micro-expressions hadn’t revealed any negative emotions then. It had been when she’d first seen him. There had been fear.

  I was further fascinated by the hesitation both Armando and Inge were showing in taking us to meet Jake and Paulo. Their torsos were turned towards the back of the room, but their feet weren’t. I wondered who they were more afraid of—Paulo or the Collector.

  “What the fuck have you two done?” A man came from behind a stack of crates, multi-coloured tinsel spilling from the crate on the top. My attention was jerked from the tinsel when he raised an automatic assault rifle and pointed it directly at me. “Who the fuck are you and what the fuck are you doing on my property?”

  Chapter NINE

  I DIDN’T EVEN HAVE time to gasp in shock. Colin pulled on my stiff arm and pushed me behind him, placing himself between me and the rifle. This caused me even more distress than having that weapon aimed at my heart. Darkness entered my peripheral vision and my fingers tingled from the adrenaline that was rushing through my body.

  And that was what I focused on. The feeling in my fingertips. I was not going to give in to the inviting safety of a shutdown. Not while Colin’s life was in danger. It took immense effort to focus on the index finger of my left hand. It was a bit easier to turn my attention to the index finger of my right hand, then my middle finger. The tingling was dissipating, but so was the threatening shutdown.

  I inhaled deeply and brought my focus back to the room. Manny, Armando, Paulo and Vinnie were all shouting threats and insults at each other, none of them listening to the others.

  Paulo looked older than the photo Colin had shown me. The lines on his face were often seen on people who’d had hard lives, people whose lives had exposed them to the cruel, dark side of humanity. His black trousers and black sweater hung off his sinewy frame. His brown hair was shorn close to his skull and stubble covered his angular jaw.

  Movement from the left caught my eye. A youthful face peeked past a stack of boxes. Jake. He swallowed, then inhaled deeply before stepping out from behind the boxes. He took a few steps closer, but stopped before anyone noticed him. He was wearing stained jeans and a dark blue hoodie. As he watched the men shouting at each other, he lifted the hood over his face. His shoulders were hunched, his elbows tucked in close to his torso. His head was swivelling from one bellowing man to the other, his eyes wide in fear.

  “Who the fuck are you?” Paulo swivelled the weapon to aim at Manny, then back at Colin.

  “Have you lost your bloody marbles?” Manny moved closer to Colin. “Put down that frigging gun!”

  Colin’s entire body was tense, his hand holding mine tightly enough to cause discomfort. Anyone else might complain about this, but for me it was something to focus on, holding the overstimulation at bay.

  “Not before you tell me who you are!”

  “Put the gun down. Now!” Vinnie’s last word reverberated through the area, momentarily stopping the yelling. He took advantage of the stunned silence and stepped closer to Paulo. “We’re not your enemy. Put that fucking weapon down before I shove it up your ass and—”

  “Maybe just point that thing down, Paulo.” Inge rubbed her chest a few times with her fist, then pulled her oversized sweater tightly around her torso. “You’re scaring us.”

  Not all her fear was pretence. She’d merely exaggerated it with the sweater action and the shudder that shook her body. This woman fascinated me. There was so much more to her than she presented.

  Paulo glanced at Inge, then lowered the rifle, but didn’t relax his posture. “I want to know who these people are.”

  “Remember I told you about Colin Frey?” Armando rolled his eyes when Paulo didn’t react. Then one si
de of his mouth lifted in his half-smile. “The poets?”

  Paulo’s head jerked back to Colin, hatred filling his features so suddenly that my fingers started tingling again. My breathing increased and this time it was my grip that tightened around Colin’s hand. Why would someone hate Colin so deeply?

  Paulo’s bottom jaw jutted, his nostrils flaring as he slowly raised the rifle and aimed it at Colin’s chest. “You son of a bitch.”

  “Oh, for the love of Mary, Joseph and the saints.” Manny glared at Armando. “Get this git under control.”

  “Paulo, please.” Inge’s voice wobbled and a tear rolled down her cheek. “We need to stop the Collector and Colin can help us. You know how good he is.”

  “Was. He was good. Now he’s working with the pigs. And he brought them with him.” Paulo didn’t take his eyes off Colin. “I’ve dreamed of the day I can fill your body with bullet holes.”

  “It will have to wait.” Armando walked up to Paulo and grabbed the barrel of the rifle, pushing it to aim at a stack of crates. He stepped into Paulo’s personal space and lowered his voice. “We’ve been at this for eleven weeks and for what? We’re no closer to stopping the Collector than we were three months ago. Aren’t you sick of hanging around us all the time? I know I am sick of looking into your faces every day. I want to get back to my life and hopefully never see any of you ever again.” He paused for a moment. “Colin can help us achieve that.”

  “We are here.” Daniel spoke for the first time, his body language communicating calm confidence. “You can’t put that genie back in the bottle. We came here not only knowing who you are, but also because we have the same goal—to find and stop the Collector.”

  “And I got us immunity.” Armando tugged at the rifle until Paulo lowered it completely. “The deal is that we would only help as long as we won’t be prosecuted.”

  “For real?” Jake blinked rapidly, his eyebrows high on his forehead. “No prosecution? That’s sweet.” He turned to Paulo. “We have immunity. Isn’t that sick?”

  “That sounds too good to be true.” Paulo’s eyes narrowed as he studied Daniel. “What exactly does this deal involve?”

  “Giving access to everything you have so far on the Collector ensures that you won’t be prosecuted in France and French territories for crimes committed on French soil. Provided that you never set foot in France again. Then you’ll be arrested on the spot.”

  Paulo was quiet for a moment, the orbicularis oculi muscles around his eyes contracting and his lips thinning. “Are you fucking kidding me?” He turned to Armando. “You’re even more of an idiot than I thought. You call this a deal? We get nothing, you raging imbecile! You fell for this?” He looked down at Armando, his top lip curled. “You sicken me.”

  I didn’t know if Paulo was inept at reading nonverbal cues or whether it was his fury preventing him from registering Armando’s micro-expressions. To me Armando’s expression clearly communicated that he had known exactly how limiting the deal had been. This led me to believe that he hadn’t had a true interest in immunity. He’d only used it to gain our interest. Or to play games. He seemed to enjoy doing that. And now he was toying with Paulo. I didn’t know how wise that was.

  The only reason I wasn’t anxious about the weapon in Paulo’s hand was that his fingers were relaxed on the rifle’s grip. It appeared he had forgotten about it for the moment.

  “At least I’m proactive.” Armando tilted his head. “Who knows, we might get lucky and be rid of the Collector and each other by week’s end.”

  Paulo’s top lip curled as he slowly shook his head. He looked down at the weapon in his hand and for a moment it looked like he was considering raising it again. But then he swivelled around and stormed away. He stopped in front of a tall stack of boxes and with his free hand punched the box in the middle, releasing a furious roar.

  The top boxes crashed to the floor, the sound of breaking glass coming from one box. The one he had punched burst open and small, empty plastic bottles rolled over the floor. Paulo kicked one, sending it flying towards the back of the room. He raised the weapon again, this time aiming it at Armando. “Cops or not, if these people you brought here get between me and the Collector, I’m going to shoot someone. Hopefully you.”

  “Dude, put down that rifle or you and I are going to dance.” Vinnie pointed his thumb at Manny. “The old man here might look as harmless as a kitten, but he’s packing and he’s a crack shot. Wanna take all of us on? Or do you wanna direct all that energy to getting the Collector?”

  I didn’t even know where to start with all the expressions Vinnie had used, but it had the desired effect. Paulo swung the rifle over his shoulder and stomped towards the back of the room.

  Armando’s half-smile widened and he winked at Vinnie. “Not just a pretty face, are you?”

  “Go f—”

  “Oh, for the love of all that is holy.” Manny sighed heavily. “Sometimes I feel like I’m herding bloody feral cats.”

  Armando laughed, breaking the tension between the men. He tilted his head to the other side of the stacks of boxes. “Shall we?”

  “Yes, why don’t we show you guys what we found so far?” Inge’s words came out quiet and tense. “And we can try to prevent anyone from being shot.”

  She looked at me, pleading clear on her face. The dynamics between these four were different from what Armando had first led us to believe. There was clearly little trust between them. I nodded at Inge and she huffed out a relieved breath before she turned and walked to the back of the room.

  Colin looked at me, waiting. I didn’t know if I wanted to follow Inge, not with Paulo’s volatile mood and the weapon in his hand.

  “Hmph.” Manny shook his head and pushed past Armando, who seemed to find Manny’s annoyance entertaining.

  Colin squeezed my hand as we followed Manny and Daniel, Vinnie behind us. I took care stepping over the scattered plastic bottles. We weaved our way through the first three rows of boxes and crates until we entered an area that I estimated took up half of this basement room.

  There were five large steel tables, three of which were covered in piles of paper. The fourth table had two laptops running a program that looked like one of the five Francine favoured when she was searching for information online. The fifth table was empty.

  I turned around and my eyes widened. Against the stacks of boxes and crates were charts, notes and a lot of papers attached to all available surfaces. I stepped away from Colin to take a closer look at the boxes behind us. Printed pages of what looked like the financial data of a company were haphazardly pinned to the boxes. A shudder shook my body and I crossed my arms tightly around my torso.

  How could anyone make sense of this chaos? No matter how long I looked at this, I couldn’t find the reasoning behind pinning the pages in the order they were. It was an argument between Paulo and Armando that prevented me from losing myself in my attempt to interpret this data.

  “Why don’t you just give the cops access to your bank accounts, your addresses and your safety deposit boxes?” Paulo was standing in front of a stack of crates with printouts pinned to it. His attempt to block our view was ineffective, his body language aggressive.

  “I’m sure they already have access to a lot of that.” Inge shrugged when Paulo, Armando and Jake turned shocked glares towards her. “What? You think they don’t have dirt on us? Of course they do.” She blinked a few times, her practiced look of innocence not fooling me. “They just don’t have anything they can use against us.”

  “Yet.” Manny grunted when Daniel raised an eyebrow in warning. Manny turned away from them to look at the papers Paulo was still trying to protect. “Will someone tell me what the bloody hell I’m looking at?”

  “Shipments that came into the ports here in Lisbon over the last five years.” Inge rolled her eyes when Paulo swore and Jake uttered a strangled sound. Her expression relaxed marginally when Armando winked at her. “We know the Collector’s love for art and figured
out his enjoyment of destroying museums, so we looked for shipments that at some point connected to a gallery or museum.”

  Armando pushed Paulo away and pointed at three pages that had red markings on them. “And these are the shipments we found.”

  “Three?” Vinnie snorted. “You found only three shipments?”

  Again the men started shouting insults at each other. I ignored them. I stepped closer and nodded at Daniel when he moved the others away. I tilted my head and looked at the manifests. We needed to get these to Francine. She would be able to run a search that might link more shipments.

  I didn’t know how many thefts, bombings and gas explosions these four people had connected to the Collector. So far we had twelve over the last five years. Thirteen, if we included the consulate general. A quick search using our findings might give us more shipments implicating more crimes. But to what end?

  Inge nudged me with her elbow, but immediately stepped away. “While they are shouting, maybe we can move on?”

  “What do you know?”

  “I’m not very good with technology. I’m more of an old-school gal. But I have a lot of contacts. So I asked around. Long story short, this shipment”—she pointed at a shipment dated two years ago, then at another dated two weeks ago—“and this one have connections to a shipping company dealing with all kinds of imports and exports. Con... the name... aha... Conhecedor.”

  It took a lot of effort to control my reaction. The shipment she was still pointing at had originated in Salvador, Brazil. This was where the Collector had set fire to the Museum of Modern Art after he’d taken at least seventy paintings. That had happened two weeks ago.

  I glanced at the men. They had stopped their disagreements and were listening to us. Manny had pushed his fists into his trouser pockets and was glaring at the manifests. Daniel’s expression was neutral and Vinnie hid his shock with more anger. Everyone had recognised the company that was fast becoming the nexus of our case.