Chapter Forty-Eight
Otto sat back and turned her face up to the soft morning sunshine. She had texted Clem last night to tell her that she had successfully left the VA and all was well. She felt no need to stress the girl about this new complication. The responding text was a picture of a champagne bottle bursting forth. Now it was up to Otto to pull off one final sting.
A breeze was drifting across the breakfast terrace, and a gull flew past, one eye on the diners, one eye on the Thames below. Looking down on the river, Otto could see the tourist pleasure boats and water taxis already weaving along this ancient waterway.
Taking another sip of orange juice, she consulted her wristwatch. Spinelli was late. Was it too much to hope that he had been hit by one of London’s famous buses? But no, here he came across the restaurant floor and outside to join her at one of the riverside tables.
‘So you made it out then? How long until you think they spot the fake?’
‘Good morning, Tony. Can I order you some breakfast? Their kippers are quite good.’
Tony grimaced. English food was revolting but it amused him to watch Otto playing at being in charge. He pulled out a seat and sat down. As the waiter approached, he ordered a black coffee.
‘I won’t be eating. Just hand me the painting and we’re done.’
Otto looked down at her feet, and he could see a small satchel sitting between them. He leant down and picked it up and glanced inside before quickly placing it on his lap.
‘Well even a small Vermeer is going to make me what? A million? What were you hoping for? I take it your fence is going to be disappointed.’
Otto frowned.
‘Oh don’t tell me you owe someone. That would be priceless.’
‘They won’t be happy if they find out you’ve got it.’
‘Best you don’t tell them then.’
‘Really, Tony, these modern Russians, they don’t play by the code.’
Tony frowned. If the Russians were involved, he was just going to grab the painting and pass it on as quickly as possible. In fact, he may even approach them directly. It was good to see Otto squirming though.
‘Merde!’ spat Otto in alarm. ‘You fool, what have you done?’
Tony turned in his seat to see what had caused Otto’s alarmed expression. In the main restaurant stood two uniformed police officers and two further men that had all the bearings of detectives. He looked around, the only way off this balcony was through the restaurant, or over the side.
‘Stay calm.’
‘How can I stay calm? You’ve been followed,’ snapped Otto. ‘I knew I couldn’t trust you. You’ve been out of the game too long.’
‘I have not been followed.’
‘No, well that certainly looks like the police to me.’
‘How do you know you haven’t been followed?’
‘Because I’m a little old lady that has no criminal record and raises no alarms. Who are you!?’
‘Quiet, you stupid woman. One of them is coming over.’
Tony sipped at his coffee as the older detective walked out onto the balcony and pulled up a chair to join them.
‘Good morning, Tony. Long-time no see.’
Tony looked him up and down and then laughed in surprise. ‘Louis Robespierre, I heard you were dead.’
‘No, just retired.’
‘So, is this a social call, are you staying here?’
Otto, he was glad to see, had the sense to keep her trap shut. He didn’t need her messing this up.
‘On my pension? No, I’m staying in a little BB. Charming couple but I’m not here to talk about me, am I?’
‘No?’
‘No. I’m here to talk about you. You see, in my retirement I like to keep an eye on things, my little allotment, the river levels, the wine harvest and the whereabouts of scum that thought they got away with it.’
Tony dabbed his lips with his napkin and pushed his chair back.
‘The minute you stand up, I’ll have you arrested for receiving stolen goods,’ said Louis calmly. ‘Her Majesty’s finest have granted me the favour of talking to you first. So what’s in the bag, Tony?’
‘What makes you think there’s something in the bag?’
‘Because we cloned your phone when you came in through customs and we’ve been tracking it ever since. Yesterday, you received a text telling you to collect the painting at this time and place. And I thought, do you know, that’s a very funny location to collect a painting.’
Tony glared at Otto. ‘You stupid bitch.’
‘Me! I’m not the one that couldn’t swap phones over when they came through customs. How stupid are you?’
‘Now, now, children,’ said Louis. ‘Madam, surely at your age you should know better. What did you give him?’
‘It’s an old picture. It’s mine but it’s worthless. It’s not stolen.’
Tony looked at her incredulously. What was she doing? She was panicking that’s what, but maybe they could get away with it.
‘Maria here is a distant cousin. She said she was looking for a buyer and I thought I would help her out.’
‘Ah mon Dieu,’ exclaimed Louis, ‘what a misunderstanding. My sincere apologies.’
Tony knew this wasn’t over but played along. Every minute he got gave him time to think of an exit strategy, but Louis continued.
‘May I see it? This painting you suddenly left Malta to buy?’
‘I think not.’ Tony sneered but he could feel the noose tightening. How had he ended up here? Decades he had lain low in Malta, evading the authorities and yet within forty-eight hours on British soil, he was about to be arrested.
‘No?’ said Robespierre, frowning. ‘I think I shall have to insist, or else I’ll need to arrest you on the spot.’
‘You can’t do that,’ said Tony. ‘You’ve retired. This isn’t even your jurisdiction.’
Louis paused and smiled, acknowledging the point, but then gestured back to the restaurant. ‘No, it isn’t, but remember, my friends over at the counter will be able to assist me with that.’
‘On what grounds? You have no grounds!’
‘On the grounds of the evidence in that bag.’
‘And nothing else?’ Tony’s heart was racing. There was only one way out of this scenario and it galled him but he was going to have to do it.
‘I think whatever is in that bag will be more than enough evidence to send you to jail for the rest of your life.’
Tony leant back and rubbed his chin, one hand on the satchel.
‘Well in that case, old friend, you have nothing.’ And with a sudden fling of his arm he threw the satchel over the balcony and down into the waters of the Thames. Otto shouted in alarm and Louis made a lunge for the bag, but both of them were too slow. All three watched as the satchel rested on the water for a second and then sank out of sight. He may have lost the painting but at least he had saved his liberty.
‘And now if you’ll excuse me?’
Tony got up and left Otto staring horrified into the Thames; the silly old cow was even crying. Let her explain herself to the police and the Russians. He was done with England. He was going to head home as fast as he could before anyone else knew he was here.
As he prepared to leave the restaurant, the police officers took a step forward and Tony looked over his shoulder and was pleased to watch Louis shake his head.
‘Not today, officers.’ Tony smirked.
As he headed out of the hotel he began to whistle. It had been years since he had pulled one over on the law and he had forgotten how much fun it was. His greatest ever was evading arrest for the murder of a local prostitute. A word in the right ear, a hefty transfer of cash into the right bank account and all the DNA evidence had disappeared.
In his euphoria at once again evading the law, he checked the traffic and then stepped out into the road. Unfortunately, Tony had forgotten which country he was in and looked the wrong way as he stepped out in front of a London bus. Had anyone still wanted it, his DNA was now pouring out across the street and into the gutter and Tony Spinelli was no more.