Chapter 3 #4
Josh turned from Kadjic to smile at it, taking in Tienne’s masterfully imitated brush strokes, the way he’d broken down the painting into visual and material component with perfect spacing, perfect color choice, a perfect eye.
Nobody—nobody—not even Celeste’s authenticator, who was very good, would have been able to tell the painting was forged if they hadn’t seen the original and had known for a fact that the tiny letters, K, A, D and part of a J, were incorporated into the signature with a fine brush and a faint bit of white paint where no such device was part of the original.
“Remarkable,” said Kadjic by Josh’s shoulder. Everybody else had oohed and aahed and then stepped back to take in the painting, leaving Josh stuck here with the one guy he didn’t want to be near when the depth of the deception hit.
“Do you think so?” Josh asked blandly. “I’ve always thought she was… sad. Cats and owls could be so much more joyous, but here they seem to be a part of the artist’s emotional disconnection.”
“I like the shadows,” Kadjic said ruminatively. “I like how they appear where no shadows should be, and the forms that cast them, or the light that creates them, are lost somewhere in the past… the past….”
Kadjic squinted and leaned forward, eyes narrowed. “What… what in the hell…?”
And Josh found his character. “Sir, you need to back away from the frame or the alarm will go—”
With a squeal the alarm—light and sound—began to glare from around the painting, because Kadjic had set it off with his proximity, but the furious man didn’t seem to notice.
“What is this?” he shouted at Celeste. “What is this! Who did this?”
“Who did what?” she asked, gesturing frantically at Harvey to still the alarm.
Harvey was so busy playing with the remote that he didn’t catch that Kadjic had drawn a small fixed-blade knife from his sleeve and was prodding at the plexiglass plate held a half-inch from the painting by the mounting screws.
The alarm went off again, and Kadjic gestured with the blade. “Do you see that?” he demanded, frothing from the mouth. “Do you see that?”
“I see you getting bloody close to my painting!” Celeste shouted back, her own spittle flying. “What do you think you’re doing, sir—”
“When?” Kadjic asked, gesturing with the knife again. “When did you last see this painting? Who was alone with it last?”
Celeste and Harvey exchanged glances. “We were,” she said. “Tonight. Right before we opened the doors for canapes. What is the problem?”
“Was this there?” he demanded, and using the dagger point, he made scratches in the Plexiglas around where the anomaly was.
There was no alarm sound this time, and Josh took a step back, ready to fade into the startled crowd if he could only get one… more….
“No,” Celeste said softly, glancing closer. “J.D., come here.”
Shit. Well, they’d thought it could happen. “What do you see?” he asked, sounding legitimately puzzled. “I was here this morning, and everything was fine.”
“Yes,” she said, “and it looks almost the same—right down to that one—remember, we couldn’t figure out if it was a brush stroke or a dead fly?”
Tienne had pronounced it a dead fly with a grimace, and the entire mansion had set about trying to capture a fly that exact size and color. A lot of flies had died that week, Molly had said direly, but apparently not in vain.
“Well, it’s still there,” Josh said with a smile. “But what…?” And oh yes. He could pretend to see it now. “Oh. That’s odd. How… how did we not see that before?”
“Was it there before?” Celeste asked, and Josh made a mental note to tell Tienne he’d done a top-rate job.
“The authenticator would have noted it,” Josh said confidently. “I don’t think that particular letter combination—or even any words—were an Abercrombie device. Where did that…?” A gasp of horror here. “Did somebody deface your painting?” he asked. “Why? What do those letters even mean?”
The grasp of his shoulder was unexpected and brutal. “You tell me!” Kadjic ground out, while Josh’s puke reflex ramped up on cue. “You discovered the painting!”
“And I don’t know how this got on it!” Josh gasped, knowing his face was pale as the pain that had faded with the ibuprofen Hunter had slipped him came roaring back. “Sir, you are hurting me!”
“That painting,” Kadjic hissed, “is a forgery—a personal message to me. Who sent it, boy—”
“Ouch!” Josh cried out, not dissembling in the least. “It wasn’t there before. The painting I found was an authentic Gertude Abercrombie, and I’m going to puke on your shoes!”
Another vicious twist of the thumb, but before Josh could lose control and follow up on his promise, the pressure disappeared, and Kadjic gave a grunt of pain before dropping the knife on the floor with a clatter.
“You. Will. Not. Touch. Him.”
Josh put a trembling hand to his stomach and stared as Liam Craig, smiling Interpol guy, the nice young man who had kept him company and made him laugh during some of the saddest moments of his illness, now metamorphized into an avenging angel.
His hair was still slicked back, and his eyes were still that merry blue, but his face was flushed with fury, and his jaw clenched so hard his cheekbones stood out in stark relief as he grasped Kadjic’s wrist, putting pressure on his ulnar nerve, which had been why he’d dropped his knife.
Liam gave a little twist with his fingers, and Kadjic cried out. “That painting is a message to me!” he said. “It’s a ghost of the past!” He sounded almost afraid.
“And what’s it saying, mate?” Liam asked, his lower East End coming out in a guttural burst. “Can you share with the crowd?”
“Lightfingers,” Kadjic gasped. “Lightfingers was here.”
Celeste gasped. “Lightfingers is a myth,” she said.
“But I understand this is something he’d do,” Leon said, emerging from the crowd with Julia on his arm. “Even in Italy we’ve heard of Lightfingers.”
“You may let go now,” Kadjic muttered. He cast a baleful glare at Josh, who was in too much pain to so much as shake out his arm. “I hurt you?” He sounded puzzled. Then, suspiciously, “I hurt you? Or you were already hurt?”
Oh no. “Would you like to see the bruises, asshole?” Josh spat, using the obscenity on purpose to make himself sound young and callow.
He wanted to make eye contact with Liam so badly, but he couldn’t. They couldn’t establish that they knew each other. Josh couldn’t fall into Liam’s arms when they were so close to free and clear.
And for fuck’s sake, Josh couldn’t throw up on anybody’s shoes.
“Celeste,” Josh gasped, his act of pulling his shit together by sheer force of will purely authentic.
“I will go call Jones to come reauthenticate. Too many people have been up here, wandering around, touching—this bozo just got his prints all over the place. We need to call the FBI art division to see if security has been tampered with. I don’t give a fuck who this guy is”—and he barely refrained from spitting on Kadjic’s shoes since he wasn’t going to puke—”but if this painting has been tampered with or replaced, your insurance people need to know.
I’ll call Serpentus to make doubly sure. ”
“You know who did this,” Kadjic roared. “You, boy—you know who did this! I will find him. I will find Lightfingers, and I will find you!”
Josh turned from what had been going to be a glorious and dignified swanning out of Celeste’s gallery toward the elevators and her office.
“This entire gallery heard you threaten me, whoever the hell you are. I’d better not get a hangnail before this is over, or Celeste here is going to sue you for your shitty suit. ”
And before Celeste could turn pale and stammer—as Josh knew she would because no way could she pretend not to know that Josh had just sneered at one of the most powerful mobsters in the world—he hit the elevator, surprised to see that Liam was at his shoulder as the door closed.
Josh’s knees wobbled, and Liam’s arms came around him, holding him firmly until Liam hit the button and the car started its descent.
“What are you doing here?” Josh mumbled against his chest.
“Leon picked up Kadjic’s knife, and your security man finally stepped up to block him.”
“Thank you,” Josh said, still shaking. “But what are you doing here?”
Liam chuckled, the sound strained. With a soft movement he kissed Josh’s temple and whispered, “I’ve told you before, boy-o, nobody catches you but me.”
BETWEEN JOSH and Liam, they’d managed to contact the authenticator and the FBI stolen art department before the elevator touched the ground.
Carl was waiting in front of the elevators on the ground floor to represent Serpentus—capers like this were the whole reason Carl hadn’t quit his day job as a claims investigator for stolen art.
“Heya,” Josh managed. “Nice suit.” He tried to stand up straight, but Liam kept him anchored to his side, and Josh let him, his knees wobbling, his body done for the night.
But Carl had recently been talked out of wearing boxy American suits in brown, had actually tried a European cut suit in dark blue with a dark brown tie. The result was devastatingly handsome, and Josh didn’t want old habits to settle in.
“Thank you,” Carl said dryly. “Your mother gave it to me. My boyfriend ratted out my birthday, and here we are. Anyway—your ‘ride,’” and oh, that subtle emphasis did not bode well, “is right outside, pissing off the bellman.”
“Wait!” Josh said rather desperately—he’d planned this whole damned caper, dammit, and he wouldn’t leave any threads dangling. “Why are you here? I mean, it was an elevator ride and a stop in the office for my stuff. You wouldn’t be here that fast—”
Carl rolled his eyes. “My boyfriend and I were at a classic car show at the convention center a few blocks away. Besides, Josh, most rich people expect you to teleport—”
Josh swallowed and tried to warn his friend. “This is Kadjic,” he said softly. “He’s damned quick, and he’s mean.”
Carl’s eyes went dark. “So we heard. Go let Felix and Danny take you to the ER. You won’t hear the end of it until a doctor says you’re good.”
Josh swallowed, and Carl shook his head. “C’mon, kid, you did good. Trust your crew. You staying in the city?”
“Danny’s old digs,” Liam said, and Josh glanced at him in surprise. He’d thought he was in for a long haul back to Glencoe, but apparently not.
“Good. Serpentus will interview you in the morning. I’ll tell them I made you go get any bruises photographed, so that’ll keep everybody on their best behavior.” Carl made little shooing motions with his fingers. “Now go.”
And Josh had no choice but to do what he asked.
Carl, or “Soderburgh,” as they called him, because when they’d all first met him he’d been using that as a cover identity, was actually a skilled insurance investigator, which only made him a better con man.
He’d seen the best and worst in insurance fraud.
He knew the desperate from the crooked and the grifter from the truly in need, and he knew how to catch both and let one slip away and the other twist in the wind.
That’s really all Josh’s people wanted from the world.
“Well,” Liam said as they got outside, “let’s get you settled.”
He opened the back door to the luxury SUV Josh’s father had pulled in front of the building and hit the button for the side step. Josh wanted to bitch—the nerf bar? Really? But his arms trembled, and so did his knees as he used the thing to boost himself up into his seat.
Liam shut the door and trotted around to the other door, and Josh’s two dads turned around from the front seat to get a good look at him.
Danny had an eyebrow quirked up, and Josh grimaced, because that was his “Felix is on a rampage” warning expression, which meant his other dad, Felix Salinger—Julia’s ex-husband and the man who was, in public and in Josh’s heart, his actual father—was not pleased.
Liam climbed in, shut the door, and pulled his belt on as Josh tried to do the same. He twisted his shoulder then and let out an involuntary sound of pain, and shit. There it was.
“So,” Felix said grimly, “are you ready for a postmortem of the situation, or would that be me interfering?”
Josh let out a sigh and conceded to the inevitable. “Can we save the postmortem for the den in Glencoe tomorrow?” he begged and swallowed down his nausea. “And who’s got the barf bags? I make no promises between here and the ER.”
“Sure, son,” Felix said, and some of the irritation and worry seemed to seep out of his stiff back as he turned to pay attention to traffic. “And while I’m not excited about the trip to the ER, I’ve got to say, you were right about everything else. Do you have the phone?”
Josh breathed out. “Liam, could you dig it out of my back pocket—the smaller one.” Liam’s hands were warm and familiar, and Josh felt a bit of resentment that they weren’t groping him for real.
“Give it to Danny?” Liam double-checked.
“Yes.”
“Danny?” Felix asked.
“Phone fully cloned,” Danny said. “I’ll hand it off to Stirling later tonight.”
“Well, then,” Felix said, sounding pleased. “Achievement unlocked. It’s time to get to the real work, right?”
Josh leaned back against his seat and smiled to himself, thinking he might make it without throwing up after all. His father was right. The first part of their plan was in place.
Kadjic was right there, exposed and ripe for the plucking.
Lightfingers was back.