Chapter Nine #2
The driver gave a ‘suit yourselves’ sort of shrug before dropping us off at the park’s entrance. The place hardly looked menacing. Outside of three teenagers playing basketball on the distant courts, we appeared to be the only living souls around.
“This is fine, thank you,” I said before climbing out of the back seat.
It was early spring in Russia and the night air felt wonderful against my burning hot skin. My head was spinning a million miles an hour, and I needed to regain my bearings, right now.
The moment the car was out of sight I laid into Wallace. “What the hell was that all about?”
“Which part exactly are you referring to?” he asked, in a tone far too calm and casual for my liking. I swear, this man’s stupid face was as punchable as it was handsome.
“Don’t you dare get cute with me, Noah. You went way off book tonight. You’re making unilateral decisions that impact this mission and I want to know why.”
He frowned. “To save both our lives, that’s why. You’re welcome, by the way.”
“I told you not to get cute.”
“You seem angry,” he said with a sigh.
“I swear on my mother’s eyes, I will choke you to death if you don’t tell me what the hell was going on between you and Sasha tonight? Why did you willingly expose the forged Matisse and who the fuck is the fucking man from fucking Brussels?”
“I didn’t expose us. Sasha already knew it was a fake,” he replied.
“Well, obviously, but you’d already figured out he knew.” I threw my hands in the air. “How?”
“As we were walking through Sasha’s gallery, I happened to notice a power supply belonging to a Yoshino-Tech V25 model multispectral scanner. I didn’t see the scanner itself, but I recognized the power supply.”
“You recognized the power supply?” I fisted my hands at my sides in an effort not to scratch his baby blues out. “How is that even a thing?”
“You probably know as much or more about art than most legitimate brokers, so I’ll assume you know who Dr. Daniel Forsythe is.”
I nodded. “He’s a forgery expert, right?”
“He’s the world’s leading expert in the field, and when I was at school studying for my degree in Art History, Dr. Forsythe served as a guest lecturer for an entire week.
While he was visiting, he brought in a Yoshino-Tech V25 Multispectral Scanner and showed us how he used it in identifying forged paintings.
The V25 is an amazing piece of equipment with the ability to perform X-Radiography, IR reflectography, UV imaging, as well as radiocarbon dating.
I was so impressed by the demonstration, I asked Dr. Forsythe if I could borrow the V25’s technical manual for the night so I could understand how it worked a bit better. ”
I cocked my head. “You read the instruction manual overnight and that’s how you knew about the power supply?”
“Each scanning component within the V25 has its own unique power needs and the custom designed power supply was built to accommodate each one. The unit was also designed to handle power from both 110 and 220-volt sources via an internal attenuator as YT wanted to create a scanner that could be used around the globe without fear of one of their scanners damaging a priceless work of art due to improper light source calibration.”
I sighed. “My God. Even the nerds at school must have beat you up.”
Wallace shot me a look I’d later come to call “Snake Eyes.”
“So, when you saw the power supply,” I continued. “You knew Sasha had one of these V25 multiwhatsits…”
“Multispectral scanner,” he corrected.
“Right. And if he had one, the chances were pretty good that he’d already sniffed out our fake.”
“Exactly.”
“How the hell did you remember all that stuff about the power supply?”
“I have an eidetic memory for things I read,” Wallace replied.
“You have a photographic memory?”
“Eidetic memory comes in different flavors. I don’t have perfect recall of events, for instance, but if I read something, it’s more or less locked into my brain for good.” He tapped his temple as he said it.
“That would explain your multiple degrees, rapid rise in our business, and the reason you think you’re always right.”
“Again, I think what you’re trying to say is ‘you’re welcome.’” He leaned in and ran his finger over my lips. “Try forming the words with your mouth.”
I leaned away from his touch. “I’ll thank you when I have a reason to. For all I know, you could’ve made things worse for us.”
“We’re breathing right now and all our limbs are intact. I’m not sure that would have been the case had I not stepped in,” he said.
“Okay, maybe, but what about this Mr. B and the man from Brussels?”
Wallace nodded. “One guy, not two. Krist Darwood, a.k.a. the Man from Brussels, a.k.a. Mr. B, a.k.a. Mr. Big, a.k.a. the largest international fence over the past twenty-eight years. His business makes Sasha’s look like a lemonade stand.”
“And why would you tell Sasha we work for him?” I asked.
“Because that’s what I want him to believe,” he replied.
I stopped our little stroll and turned to face Wallace.
“Look, full transparency here. I’ve been fighting the urge to either punch your face or strangle you with my bare hands for much of the brief time we’ve spent together.
These urges have now shifted to those of a more stabby nature, so if you could please give your puppet show a rest and tell me exactly how you’ve fucked us so I can figure out how to unscrew us. ”
“Oh, who thinks they know everything now? I thought that was supposed to be my department.”
“What do you want from me?” I hissed.
“I want you to trust me. To speak to me with a little respect. And most of all, I’d like you to treat me a little more like your partner and a little less like a fuckin’ stone in your Manolo Blahniks.”
“You read a book on shoes too?” I sassed back, trying to hide the fact that I was impressed that he’d correctly ID’d my footwear.
“It’s not enough I know things, now I have to tell you how it is I do?”
I put my hands on his very firm biceps. “You’re right.
I’m sorry. I don’t think either of us was expecting a partner on this mission, but it looks like we are, nonetheless.
Thank you for keeping us out of the woodchipper but can you please explain to me how bringing another notorious gangster into our already full stable is good news for our little duo? ”
Wallace smiled. “Because Mr. B is our mobster.”