Chapter Twenty-Three
Waiting for Ari’s return in the greeting room, Alexi stood in front of the empty frame and wondered why the portrait was in such demand. He’d researched the ancestral Lord Hawthorne, and while he was held in high esteem he had achieved nothing to warrant such interest. The odd thing was, he had almost called off the theft. There had been a last minute, unexpected problem.
The team he’d organized to pull off the art robberies had suddenly demanded significantly more money. Enraged, he’d tossed them out with Poncho chasing them to the door. But only because he’d been approached by Craig Carson and Bob Lacey the week before.
The men were eager to become part of his international criminal enterprise and were well established in the London underworld. But they had changed what should have been a relatively simple job into a three-ring circus.
To complicate matters, when word of the robbery leaked out, Alexi had received a call from a highly placed government official, a man named Giles Cavendish. He wanted the portrait, and he would pay with something far more valuable than cash.
Alexi’s nefarious activities would have free rein.
His boats and planes would not be detained or searched, and anyone arrested who worked for him would receive preferential treatment.
“I’ll make sure you remain untouched as much as possible,” Giles had promised. “However, if you sell that portrait to someone else, you’ll find yourself hounded at every turn.”
The politician”s offer was one Alexi felt he had to accept. Now he was wishing he’d never even heard of Hawthorne Hall. When he’d contacted David Weiss, the buyer in Switzerland, and explained there was another interested party, the man had doubled his original offer, and made a veiled threat that Alexi’s wealthy clientele would diminish if the painting wasn’t delivered as promised.
Poncho suddenly barked, startling him from his thoughts. Darting his eyes to the door, Alexi saw Ari walking towards him with a grim expression.
“I have bad news Mr. Koslov?”
“Now what?”
“When I was being questioned they said they know you have a buyer for the portrait.”
“They must have been fishing. For starters, I don’t have the portrait in my hands yet, but I will. What did you say?”
“Nothing, not a word, not about anything.”
“I’d better leak some false information,” Alexi muttered.
“Before the interview one of the agents came into my cell and gave me a piece of paper. He said if I wanted to make a deal to call him.”
“Ah, how convenient. The painting should be here in the next thirty-six hours. By the time that happens I’m hoping to have some answers.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, there must be something special about that portrait. I’ve had more than one person interested in a particular item many times, but not like this.”
“Mr. Kozlov, I have a strange feeling about it, but I don’t know why.”
“I know what you mean. I do too,” Alexi mumbled, staring at the frame. “Regardless, the risk is worth the reward. I’m moving forward. It’s time to give our friend Donovan Blake a push.”
* * *
At Hawthorne Hall Donovan and Sam were studying the contents of the package when Donovan’s phone chimed. It was Sam.
“That camera in the frame just paid off,” he declared. “I just received a recording from the agent I’ve had monitoring it. I’m sending it to you now.”
“Thanks, Sam,” Donovan replied, then ended the call and switched the phone to speaker.
“What’s happened?” Peter asked. “Good news I hope.”
“Apparently my bug at Alexi’s home has picked something up,” he replied. “Sam’s sending it to me…and here it is.”
After listening to the conversation between Ari and Alexi, Peter didn’t comment, but stared up at Donovan with a deep frown.
“Peter? What’s wrong?”
“Giles Cavendish. We’re social friends. I’d completely forgotten. He’s asked to buy the portrait twice, but I don’t understand. Why does he want it so badly? Its been hanging in the library forever and there’s been no other offers to buy it except his. None at all.”
“Has it been exhibited anywhere?”
“No. The only time it was moved was during the Second World War. This place became a hospital for injured soldiers and airmen. I say…I just remembered something. I’m not sure if it’s relevant, but Giles had a close relative here during that time. It might even have been a great grandson of his.”
“Where was the portrait moved to?”
“On the island with other valuables. It never left the property.”
“The island?”
“Oh, excuse me. It’s a building in the middle of a manmade lake. It can only be accessed by boat. There are a couple of small dinghy permanently on site. We have picnics there, and in the summer we often have gatherings.”
“I’d like to take a look. Were any of the patients housed there?”
“The servicemen did spend time at the lake but the building was locked up.”
“This is worth checking out. It’s too much of a coincidence.”
“Donovan, I believe you’re right, and take Phoebe. It’s a delightful spot.”
“Take me where,” she asked, walking in.
“I’ll explain on the way,” Donovan replied. “Just tell me how to get there, Peter.”
“Out through the conservatory, straight ahead, through the trees, and after a short walk you’ll see it in front of you. The doors are unlocked now, but they might be a bit stiff. By the way, the painting was hung on the wall to the left as you walk in. And while you’re there take a moment to enjoy yourselves. It really is an idyllic spot.”
“I’m intrigued,” Phoebe piped up. “Where are we going?”
“You’ll see when we get there,” he declared as he started for the door. “Peter, as far as our delivery goes, it looks good to me. I recommend full steam ahead.”
“Then I’ll get things organized and you can make the call when you get back.”