The Malhoa Connection

by Estelle Ryan

Everyone laughed. Including Francine. She winked at him. “Want to hear what amazing discoveries this diva of the dark web has made?”

  “Not if you refer to yourself in the third person.” Manny stepped away and leaned against his sedan. He raised his eyebrows. “Well? We’re waiting.”

  Francine wrinkled her nose. “It’s not a discovery per se, but I’m getting close.”

  “Oh, for the love of all the saints.” Manny slumped. “Just spit it out.”

  “I’ve been following the lead Genevieve gave me.” She smiled at me. “That took me down a few side roads that led me to the one I’m on at the moment.”

  “That tells me absolutely nothing.” Manny turned to me. “Doc?”

  I inhaled deeply and collected my thoughts. Francine had gathered two terabytes’ worth of data related to the Collector and the art thefts. Some of the files were huge because of the CCTV footage, some because of the high-resolution photos of the stolen artworks. I’d spent a lot of time watching the footage, but had not yet found anything that led us straight to the Collector.

  Out of frustration, I’d focused on the footage of the thief who’d stolen a 1967 oil on canvas by a Moroccan artist in Tangier for the Collector. Colin had recognised him and before long Francine had found a financial lead. Despite the feeling of little to no progress, we had found something that might be significant.

  “The Tangier thief bank received two payments from a company that I’ve noticed before. One payment before the 2018 heist in Morocco and another payment the day after. I also noticed that company name connected to a shipment with art sent from Brazil ten days ago—three days after the museum fire.”

  “The name, Doc?”

  “Conhecedor.” I nodded towards Francine. “She’s been looking into it.”

  “It’s a sole proprietorship that was established in 2016 in the Seychelles.” She paused. “Did you know ‘conhecedor’ is the Portuguese word for ‘connoisseur’ or ‘expert’?” The glance she gave Manny conveyed mischievous glee. “I followed their money here and there.”

  “Francine.” Manny lowered his brow and stared at her.

  “You know they’ll never know I hacked their weak systems. Anyhoo, it was no surprise that I found a few shell companies. Conhecedor also seems to function as a shell company. But the name of the owner of one of the other shell companies rang a bell.” She lifted one hand, palm out. “No, I’m not telling yet. I want to make sure I’m right. I’m following that name. At the moment, I’m looking at the places we know the Collector hacked. I’m thinking it’s the same person.”

  “You think the Collector is one of the owners of the shell company? Or the owner of Conhecedor?” I found it most frustrating when Francine didn’t clearly state what she’d found, but only hinted at interesting discoveries. She loved such melodramatic deliveries.

  “That’s what I’m trying to figure out at the moment.”

  I closed my eyes for a moment to replay her facial expressions. “You know this person.”

  “Dammit, girlfriend!” Francine frowned at me. “Leave a girl some secrets, would you.”

  “You know the Collector?” Vinnie slapped his hand on the roof of the SUV. “The fuck, Franny?”

  “This is why I didn’t want to say anything.” She straightened, all levity gone. “Look, I really don’t know if I’m right. Let me check this. And then double-check it.”

  A notification tone sounded from Manny’s pocket and he grumbled something rude under his breath. He took his phone from his jacket pocket and shook it at Francine. “You and I are not done.”

  He gave Francine another long look, then swiped his phone’s screen. His eyes widened and his head jerked back as he read whatever was on the screen.

  My breath hitched. “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know.” Manny stared at his phone screen, brows raised and drawn together. He looked at Colin. “Why would Daniel send me a message to tell your thieving poet alter ego about Venus with a Mirror and Jack... um... Jacopo?”

  Colin’s eyebrows shot up. “Venus with a Mirror by Jacopo Palma il Giovane? Maybe because that painting was stolen in Budapest in 2010. Back then it was worth around one million euros.”

  My mind was reeling. Why would Daniel use one of the many aliases Colin used whenever his work veered off all legal avenues?

  Daniel was more accepting of Colin’s use of aliases than I was. Even though I understood Colin’s need for not revealing his true identity whenever he dealt with criminals, I hated watching him in a disguise. His changes of posture, accent, mannerisms were disconcerting.

  Colin looked at Manny. “What exactly does Dan’s message say?”

  Manny looked down at his phone and shook his head. “‘Come to my flat. Bring George Herbert and G. Tell Herbert Venus with a Mirror, Jac... that name.”

  “Jacopo,” Colin said quietly. He frowned. “Daniel would only be cryptic like this if something’s off.”

  Vinnie pushed away from the SUV. “Why are we standing around? Dan’s clearly in trouble. Let’s go.”

  “Take a breath, big guy.” Manny tapped his phone screen a few times and notifications sounded from all our phones. “You all have the message now.” He looked at Vinnie. “We need to be smart about this. Daniel would’ve told us if his life was in immediate danger. He definitely wouldn’t have asked us to bring Doc if there was any threat. Let’s gear up. I’ll get Daniel’s team to meet us there.”

  “I have a bad feeling about this.” Francine leaned into the SUV and collected her devices. “I’ll take the sedan and go back to the team room. I’ll see if I can get into Dan’s flat.”

  Manny’s nostrils flared and he shook his head. “Bloody hell. Do it.” He looked at me and nodded towards the SUV. “Get moving, Doc.”

  Even though my neurodiverse mind was balking at going into an unknown and possibly dangerous situation, I didn’t think twice about opening the passenger door. Daniel was a good friend. And I trusted him. He would not have asked me to come if my life would be in danger.

  Manny blinked in surprise at my easy acquiescence, then grunted and nodded. “Good. Francine...”

  “I’ll let you know when I have something.” She blew him a kiss and winked at me before getting into the sedan.

  I buckled in and clutched my handbag to my chest. I didn’t like this. So soon after we discovered a crime I was convinced had been commissioned by the Collector, our friend sent us a cryptic message? This didn’t feel right to me. I held my handbag even tighter and focused on my breathing.

  Daniel needed us.

  Chapter TWO

  MANNY SPENT THE ENTIRE journey on his phone, coordinating with Pink, Francine’s counterpart in the GIPN team. Pink’s knowledge of cybersecurity had been helpful in numerous cases. He was also a very capable law enforcement officer. And he was family.

  He’d married Nikki, the young woman who’d recently told me I was the mother-slash-sister she’d never known she needed in her life. I had no maternal feelings for her, but my affection ran deep. For her and Eric, her three-year-old son.

  We reached Daniel’s five-storey apartment building in record time and Vinnie stopped the SUV in the street behind the black GIPN truck. Pink and two other team members were already in the street, waiting for us. The female officer glanced up at the building and said something to the male officer next to her. Both had joined Daniel’s team in the last two years, but we hadn’t worked with them often.

  Bianca was taller than the average French woman, her athletic body hidden under her uniform and gear. The tension in her posture and frequent glances at a specific window on the third floor revealed her concern for Daniel.

  Thierry was a jovial individual, his dark skin often darkening even more as he broke out in loud guffaws at his own jokes. Yet he turned into a consummate professional when needed. Like now. He was focused, his hand resting on his handgun holstered on his hip.

  We got out of the SUV and made our way to them.

  “
Hey, guys.” Pink’s smile softened when he saw me. “Genevieve.”

  I nodded, my facial muscles too tense to form unnecessary words.

  “Ready?” Manny nodded at the other team members.

  “I have spare keys, so breaching will be easy.” Pink looked at Colin. “Stay behind us. We’ll clear everything, then you can join us.”

  Colin nodded. He trained with Daniel’s team, but not twice a week like Vinnie did. Colin’s experience as a burglar made him exceptionally good at being stealthy, but he never enjoyed handling weapons. I offered no argument against letting the trained officers ensure everything, including Daniel, was safe before I joined them.

  We followed them to the front door of the building. Pink was standing with a key card ready in his hand. Manny took position by the door, his hand on the handle. The moment Manny nodded, Pink held the card against the panel and Manny opened the door, holding it for the other two officers to enter.

  Pink and Vinnie followed, their weapons raised, their body language alert and focused. Manny didn’t enter, but watched them closely, all the while holding his hand out to the side, palm facing us—keeping us back.

  It didn’t take them long to clear the elegant, minimalist foyer of the modern apartment building. Pink waved us in and turned to the others. “Dan’s apartment is on the third floor. Vin and I will take the stairs. Colin, you and Genevieve can follow us, but stay at least one flight of stairs behind us.” He nodded at Manny. “Okay to take the elevator with Bianca and Thierry?”

  Manny nodded, then turned to glare at me. “Hold yourself together, Doc.”

  “Millard.” Colin squeezed my hand. “You’re an arsehole.”

  Manny didn’t acknowledge Colin’s reprimand, just continued staring at me. The tightening of the muscles around his eyes and mouth gave away the concern for me he was trying to hide behind the blustering.

  “I’ll do my best.” I couldn’t promise anything more. My non-neurotypical brain was unpredictable in how it processed stimuli. I could only hope that I would be there for Daniel today the way he’d always been there for me. And that my brain wouldn’t give in to a shutdown.

  “You do that.” Manny nodded once and walked to the elevator with Bianca and Thierry, the three of them moving as a unit.

  Vinnie opened the door to the stairwell and Pink went in, his weapon raised. Vinnie gave Colin a look that communicated caution and followed Pink. I took a deep breath and walked through the door, Colin behind me.

  We hurried up the stairs, the only sound in the stairwell the squeak of my boots against the tiles. I winced with each step.

  Pink held up his fist and stopped in front of the door leading to the third-floor hallway. As before, Vinnie opened the door for Pink.

  Vinnie turned his head towards us, but didn’t take his eyes off the hallway as Pink disappeared to the right. “Wait here until we call you.”

  I focused on taking three slow breaths. Then I straightened my hunched shoulders and relaxed my grip on Colin’s hand. A quiet ping came from the hallway and my eyes widened, my hand tightening around Colin’s again.

  “The elevator, love.” Colin leaned closer and kissed my temple. “They’ll be fine.”

  He couldn’t guarantee that, but I didn’t confront him about making empty promises. Instead I listened. I didn’t hear anything.

  I counted twenty seconds and still nothing. My heart rate increased and it felt as if a heavy weight was resting on my chest when I heard footsteps coming our way.

  Vinnie’s head popped around the hallway entrance, his facial muscles relaxed, a genuine smile lifting his cheeks. “It’s clear. You’re gonna wanna see this.”

  I exhaled in relief and rushed up the stairs with Colin. Vinnie led us down the hallway to the last apartment door. It was open, revealing a small, but sleek entrance hall. I followed Vinnie past the floor-to-ceiling mirror on one wall into a large open-space living area.

  And froze.

  Colin stopped next to me, his muscle tension increased. But only for a moment. On a silent exhale, he relaxed and raised one eyebrow.

  Thierry and Bianca had their weapons trained on an unfamiliar man sitting on one of the two black leather sofas. He appeared to be in his mid-forties, tall and fit. His black hair was long enough to look messy, combined with a few silver streaks that added to his appeal. His posture was relaxed and confident, his left arm stretching along the back of the sofa, one ankle resting on the opposite knee.

  I realised that Manny and Vinnie were not staring at the stranger himself, but rather at the large black cat sprawled on his lap. An equally large, but white, cat had draped itself on the back of the sofa and was rubbing its face against the back of the man’s head, purring loudly.

  Daniel was on the other sofa. He was wearing only pyjama bottoms, his hands tied in front of him with a tea towel. He displayed no sign of distress or concern. His expression confused me. Why was he amused?

  “Who the bloody hell are you?” Manny took a step closer to the intruder, then swung around to Daniel. “Who the hell is this? And why the hell are you still tied up?”

  Daniel wriggled his wrists and shook off the tea towel.

  “Oh, dude.” Vinnie shook his head, pretending to be disappointed. “That’s just embarrassing.”

  Daniel chuckled. “In my defence, I was tasered.” He pointed at two red dots on his muscular abdomen.

  “The fuck!” Vinnie stalked over to the stranger, reaching for his holstered handgun. “Who are you?”

  “Ask him.” The man’s left cheek dimpled in a sensuous half-smile as he nodded at Colin. “Good to see you again, George. Or do you prefer Colin?”

  “Armando Curvelo. It’s been a long time.” Colin’s controlled response didn’t give away the shock I’d observed in his micro-expressions when he’d first seen this man. Nor did Colin use the Irish accent that accompanied his George Herbert alias. For that I was grateful. It was perturbing to see how smoothly he moved into a different persona and how convincing he was. “How long has it been? Seven years?”

  “Hmm. I wish it was longer.” The more Armando spoke, the more pronounced his Portuguese accent became. My expertise was in nonverbal communication, not accents, but his exaggerated accent didn’t sound true to me. He raised one shoulder in a half-shrug. “Yet here we are.”

  Colin made a point of looking at all the people in the room before he looked back at Armando. “You went through a lot of trouble to meet me.”

  Armando shrugged again and the white cat shifted, stretching its leg out to rest its paw on Armando’s shoulder. This time, the stranger’s smile was genuine and soft as he tilted his head and rubbed his cheek against the cat’s head. That sincerity lasted a second before he schooled his features into another sensual half-smile and straightened. “The phone number you gave me seven years ago no longer works.”

  Colin nodded slowly—the way he did when he was working through numerous strategies. I knew he’d settled on one when he squeezed my hand before letting it go and walked to Daniel’s sofa. Colin took his time sitting down next to Daniel and straightening the sleeves of his jacket. Finally, he settled his gaze on Armando. “I’m here.”

  “So you are.” Armando sighed and lifted his chin towards Bianca and Thierry. “Think we can ask them to stop aiming those monster guns at me?”

  Vinnie’s hand was still resting on his holstered weapon and he widened his stance. “You have no idea how much I want to shoot you right now. So no, the guns are not going anywhere.”

  “It’s okay, Vin.” Daniel nodded at his two team members, who immediately lowered their weapons, but didn’t relax their postures. “Armando and I have been chatting for almost an hour. He’s not going to do anything stupid.”

  I rolled my shoulders as most of the tension left my body. I trusted Daniel. He was exceptionally skilled in reading people. In all the time I’d known him, he had not once been wrong in his assessment of a person or situation. If he deemed this situation safe, it was.r />
  “A bloody hour?” Manny glared from Armando to the cats. “Why the hell did you bring those beasts with you?”

  “Um...” Daniel chuckled, colour creeping up his neck into his cheeks. “They’re my Maine Coon cats.”

  “Dude!” Vinnie threw both hands in the air. “No way. Two cats? Oh, man. How did I not know this?”

  Manny pushed his hands into his trouser pockets. For a moment, he stared at Armando, then turned to Colin. “Who the bleeding holy hell is he?”

  Colin raised an eyebrow, then looked at Armando, who nodded and waved his hand. “Go ahead. Tell them.”

  “Everything?” Colin asked.

  “Of course.” His tone was glib, but the way he swallowed and the orbicularis oris muscles around his mouth contracted betrayed his tension.

  “Meet Armando Curvelo.” Colin held out his hand towards Armando as if presenting him to an audience. “An accomplished thief. He specialises in modern art—paintings as well as sculptures. He’s responsible for the thefts of Charing Cross Bridge by Monet and a Meyer de Haan self-portrait as well as three Picassos, to name only a few.” Colin narrowed his eyes at Armando stroking the black cat. “Do you still have a warrant out for your arrest here in France?”

  “Hmm?” Armando blinked as if he had not been paying attention. He was not as skilled as Colin in pretence. I’d observed him flinch each time Colin mentioned one of his crimes. His half-smile increased. “Oh, the warrant? No. That silly investigation went up in smoke a year after they suspected me. There was no arguing with time-stamped security footage of me in a different country.”

  Colin smiled. “They fell for that?”

  “Hook, line and sinker.” Armando looked at Manny, his expression beaming innocence. “Of course, the security footage was real.”

  Manny lowered his chin and scowled at Armando. “Do not make me ask you again why you are here.”

  For a moment, Armando’s smile was genuine as he studied Manny. “I like you.”

  “Talk.”

  Armando scratched the black cat behind his ears, taking his time. Then he looked at Colin, his expression sober. “We know you’re working with the law. We can help you, but we need immunity.”