Chapter Thirty-One
Donovan caught his breath.
The office door was opening.
“I’m sorry, Alexi. We need to make this quick,” he heard Manny say urgently. “Some idiot will have called the cops.”
“So? What does it matter? There was accident. A drunken fool fell on his knife. There’s no mystery.”
The Russian’s accent was thick, his voice deep, and he’d sounded patronizing.
“You don’t understand. The police will want to question me.”
“You Americans, you worry too much. You’re a busy man. If it takes a while to find you, who cares? Now take me to the Empress.”
Hearing them walking across the room and not knowing how the secret space was accessed, Donovan mentally prepared himself for a fight. But to his great relief they stopped before reaching the desk.
“I’m taking you into my private vault,” Manny declared. “Forgive me, Alexi, but I must ask you to look away.”
“Ah, yes, I understand.”
Donovan waited a few seconds, then dared to peek around the side of the desk. Standing in front of a bookshelf just a few yards in front of him, Manny clasped a bronze horse, slowly turned it, then pushed the bookcase forward. As he turned back to Alexi, Donovan jerked out of sight.
“Okay, Alexi, we can go in now.”
Feeling Phoebe gripping his arm, Donovan glanced down at her, and she looked up at him with wide eyes. She was scared. But when they heard the sound of the bookcase moving back into place she let out a heavy breath.
“Now what?” she whispered. “Do we take off or wait for them to come out?”
“I’m thinking…” he mumbled as he heard the faint sound of sirens. “Manny was right, someone called the police.”
“Of course they did!”
“I know exactly what to do. Stay here.”
Moving from behind the desk and studying the other items on display, he finally spotted a magnificent white marble globe about the size of a bowling ball. In spite of its hefty weight he managed to lift it and carefully wedge it between the bronze horse and the side of the bookcase. Satisfied it would prevent the horse from moving, he hurried across to the door, made sure it was locked, then returned to Phoebe still crouched behind the desk.
“You can get up now,” he declared, sliding open the top desk drawer. “What are you doing?”
“Looking for this!” he exclaimed retrieving a revolver, then checking to make sure it was loaded he wedged it into his waistband. “And now I’m calling Sam.”
* * *
Inside the vault Manny was proudly showing Alexi The Alexandrite Empress. The room’s special lighting was designed to enhance each piece. Every gold item glowed, artwork was brought to life, and precious stones sparkled. Even under normal conditions the exquisite necklace twinkled with a unique brilliance, but under the expensive lights it was breathtaking.
“She is an Empress,” Alexi muttered. “Yes, I will have her.”
“We haven’t agreed on a price,” Manny said, wishing he could turn back the clock. Franco’s shocking attack and subsequent death had rattled him, and when Alexi had insisted on seeing the necklace when he did, Manny had felt compelled to agree. Now he regretted not summoning his Head of Security to join them.
“We will discuss this in your office over drinks,” Alexi replied, then stepping away he began moving around the room to admire the other unique items. “You have quite a collection,” he remarked, pausing in front of a grouping of paintings. “Is this a genuine Renoir?”
“It had better be.”
“Remarkable. It’s a shame it can never leave this room. I won’t ask how you acquired it, but I assume an excellent forgery is hanging in its place.”
“You have assumed correctly.”
“Did you arrange both the painting and the switch?”
“That’s confidential, but if you ever want to do something similar let me know.”
“Interesting. You’re a man of exceptional talent. Shall we return to your office and talk?”
“Yes, though I’m sure the police will be knocking on the door looking for me, assuming they haven’t come and gone already,” Manny remarked as he moved across to open the entrance. “I have several vodkas on hand. I hope one is to your liking.”
“I will sample them all,” Alexi said, smiling for the first time.
The change in his demeanor wasn’t lost on Manny. Feeling a wave of relief, and finally starting to feel comfortable in the man’s presence, he grasped the handle and tried to turn it, but it wouldn’t budge.
“Is there a problem?” Alexi asked, walking up to stand beside him.
“I don’t understand,” Manny muttered. “It never sticks.”
“Let me try.”
Stepping back, Manny watched the powerfully-built Russian grip the large brass knob. Though his knuckles turned white with the effort, he wasn’t able to make it turn even an inch.
“Don’t worry, I’ll call one of my men,” Manny said confidently as he lifted out his phone. “He’ll be here in no-time, and I’ll also get an update on what’s happening.”
* * *
Donovan had just finished giving Sam the rundown on the unexpected events of the night when there was a loud knock on the door.
“Sam, I have to go. But hurry. Manny probably called someone for help and I think they’re here already,” Donovan exclaimed.
“My team have been waiting close by and they’ll be there in minutes. Just stall the best you can.”
“Like I have a choice,” he grunted, ending the call.
As he marched across to the door there was another knock, but louder, and a female voice began yelling.
“Hey, it’s me, Candy, let me in.”
Cautiously opening the door and seeing only the shapely woman, he glanced quickly up and down the hall. Relieved it was empty, he grabbed her arm and pulled her inside.
“Hello, Candy, my name’s Donovan Blake,” he said briskly, locking the door behind her. “I work with a branch of law enforcement, and—”
“Where’s Manny?” she demanded, glancing across at Phoebe.
“I can’t tell you that right now, but he’s okay.”
“Oh. So…uh…he’s still alive?”
“He is, but why do you ask?”
“Someone stabbed a man by the castle cake, and I thought the same person might have attacked Manny as well.”
“No, he’s just fine.”
Watching her, Donovan had the distinct impression she’d been hoping to hear a different answer.
“Hi, Candy,” Phoebe said, walking up to join them. “My name’s Phoebe. Why don’t you come and sit down. Would you like a drink?”
“God, yes. It’s been a wild night.”
“Donovan,” Phoebe said, giving him a leave us alone look, “would you mind getting it for her?”
“Not at all. What would you like, Candy?”
“Bourbon would be good.”
“Coming right up.”
* * *
“I realize you don’t know me, but I can see you’re really upset,” Phoebe began, taking her to the couch and sitting down. “Is it because of that man who was killed? Was he a friend of yours?”
“God, no. Sorry, that came out wrong. You’re not supposed to speak ill of the dead, but he was really creepy. His name is Franco. He and Manny go way back.”
“And you’re Manny’s girlfriend, right?”
“Uh, yeah, but let’s get something straight. I only hooked up with Manny to keep Franco away from me. But if Manny’s okay, where is he?”
“He’s busy at the moment, but Candy—”
“Will he be arrested?” she interjected.
“Probably.”
“Just probably?”
“Definitely,” Donovan exclaimed, walking up and handing her a glass, “and on very serious charges.”
“Thanks,” she said, taking the drink. “You’re sure?”
“Yes, absolutely sure.”
“Thank God! I’ll finally be free of both the bastards.”
But as she finished speaking Donovan heard a click, then the sound of the lock turning in the door.
“Crap,” Donovan muttered. “Don’t panic. Just follow my lead.”