Art and Murder. Don Easton

uh, I mean, I mean … there’s always other stuff. I know they got lots of jewellery.”

      “I told you how I feel about wearing that,” replied Jack. “Do they have anything else I might be interested in?”

      “Not really, unless you’re interested in some fake IDs.”

      “You mean driver’s licences?”

      “No, I’m talking passports.”

      “Passports? Yeah, right.” Jack ladled on the sarcasm. “A buddy of mine could sure use one, but these days you’d never be able to cross a border with a fake passport.”

      “These aren’t fake,” Clive protested. “They’re real. I’ve, uh, got … know people using them. Your friend would have to pretend to be from Romania, but everything about the passport itself is authentic.”

      “How the hell did they end up with Romanian passports? If they robbed some tourists, the passports will light up the customs’ computer like the Vegas strip.”

      “They didn’t take them from anyone using them. They’re basically blank. These guys have a connection. All they need is a passport photo to make one up.”

      “Really? That sounds interesting. If you’re giving me the straight goods, I’d like to get one for myself, as well as my friend.”

      “I’ll ask them,” Clive said.

      “How well do you know these guys where we’re going?”

      “I met Klaus a while back at a nightclub. He introduced me to his two friends later. Him I know really well, but the other two are a little more standoffish.”

      Jack knew he couldn’t ask many more questions without arousing suspicion. The rest of the trip was relatively quiet, but the closer they got to their destination, the more jittery Clive became.

      After driving down some back-country roads, they arrived at a property surrounded by a high, chain-link fence. Jack hadn’t seen a sign to indicate what road they were on, but texted a rough location to Laura when Clive parked in front of an electric gate and pushed the intercom button. Eventually a sleepy voice said, “Who’s there?”

      “Clive. I gotta talk to you. It’s urgent.”

      The gate opened and they drove down a driveway lined on both sides by large cedar trees. Motion-sensor lights illuminated the roadway, and Jack saw a birdhouse on a tree that faced down the driveway. Closed-circuit television camera? What have I gotten into? The 9mm pistol tucked in the back of his belt usually felt uncomfortable, but not now.

      They arrived in a yard illuminated with floodlights and parked in front of a modest, ranch-style house. Nearby was a storage building with a large sliding door on the front. Two men came out of the house and approached them as Clive turned off the ignition.

      “You sure these are the only two guys here?” asked Jack. “I really hate surprises.”

      “I think so, but … uh, they’re heavy-duty and won’t like it that I brought you along. Better just let me do the talking.”

      As soon as they stepped out of the car, one of the men gestured with his thumb at Jack. “Who the fuck is this?” he asked Clive. He had a French accent, Jack noticed.

      “It’s okay, Anton. He, uh, his name is Jack.” Clive paused, then glanced at the other man. “Hey, Bojan. Sorry to wake you guys up, but I, uh, was …” He paused again and looked at Jack nervously. “Well, me and Klaus and Liam were sort of being rough with one of this guy’s, uh, lady friends. To compensate for hurting her I agreed to give him a pound of coke.”

      “You brought a pimp here … to this place,” said Anton. His voice was cold and ominous.

      He whispered something to Bojan, who looked at Clive and asked, “Did you search him?”

      “Yes, of course,” Clive lied. “He’s not packing. I know he’s cool.”

      “But you brought him here,” Bojan said, the anger in his voice almost palpable.

      “I, uh, made him keep his head down below the dash, so he doesn’t know where he is,” responded Clive with another nervous glance at Jack.

      Jack nodded, pretending to agree. Actually, I don’t really know where I am.

      “Uh, but, there’s a problem,” said Clive.

      “I’ll say there’s a problem.” Bojan’s tone was menacing.

      “No, I mean the reason I agreed to bring him,” Clive continued. “He … a couple of his ladies are holding Klaus and Liam in a hotel room until he gets the pound.”

      “Holding Klaus?” Anton said incredulously. “What are you talking about?”

      With a nod toward Jack, Clive said, “He burst into the room and smacked Klaus in the face with a shotgun and got the drop on us. Right now, Klaus and Liam are both naked, tied up and blindfolded. His ladies are guarding them with a shotgun.”

      Anton looked at Jack in amazement, then yelled, “Your whores are holding my friend Klaus with a fucking shotgun and you have the balls to come here?”

      “Only holding them as collateral until I get my pound,” replied Jack calmly. “I am not looking to hurt them. Once I’m compensated, everyone can be on their way.”

      Anton stepped forward and scrutinized Jack’s face closely. “Everyone wait. I’ll be right back.”

      A few minutes passed with Bojan staring silently at Clive while Jack pretended to walk around and nonchalantly admire Clive’s car. In reality, he wanted to use the car for protection if Anton returned with a gun and the intent to kill him.

      Eventually Anton returned empty-handed and gave a subtle shake of his head at Bojan, then slammed Clive in the chest with both hands and watched him stumble backward.

      “What the —”

      “You were told never to bring anyone here!” Anton shouted at Clive.

      “What choice did I have?” whined Clive. “I’m saving Klaus’s life. Liam’s too. You know we’ll pay it back.”

      “You’re a fucking idiot!” retorted Anton. “So is Klaus!”

      As Clive stood meekly without responding, Jack glanced at his watch and said, “Listen, boys, I don’t have all night. If I don’t make a phone call soon, some poor maid is going to have a hell of a mess to clean up.”

      Bojan looked at Anton, then said, “You better call your brother.”

      Anton nodded, then took a phone out of his pocket and walked a short distance away to make the call. As he did, Clive took the opportunity to whisper to Jack, “Be calm. Everything will be okay. They’re pissed off, but really, I don’t see what the big deal is.”

      Jack looked at the enraged faces of Anton and Bojan. Something’s a big deal. A really big deal.

      Chapter Seven

      It was approaching one o’clock in the afternoon in Paris, and Kerin was becoming more anxious as he sat on a bench with Roche in the park. Roche had received a call saying that the Ringmaster would arrive at twelve-thirty, but there had been no calls since then to explain the delay.

      Kerin was aware that the sunshine had brought office workers into the park to stroll around during their lunch break, but now the park was clearing out, leaving his cover team more exposed. “This is ridiculous,” he complained. “We’ve been here for almost two hours. Where is he?”

      Roche did not tell Kerin that the delay was for counter-surveillance. Instead, he said, “You’re right. I will check with the Ringmaster. Wait one moment and —” He looked startled as one of his phones vibrated. “My emergency phone,” he muttered as he fished it out of his pocket. “From … my