The Malhoa Connection

by Estelle Ryan

  “Is this Armando connected to the consulate general fire?” the president asked.

  “We don’t believe so.” Manny nodded towards me. “Doc says he’s telling the truth when he said he only flew in this morning. Francine is checking that now.”

  “What do you need from me?” the president asked.

  “Armando told us that the Collector has many Portuguese police officials under his control. We can’t trust anyone over there.”

  Captain Bouvier nodded slowly. “And that’s where I come in.” He rubbed his temples. “You want to take my team with you because you don’t know if GOE can be trusted.”

  Manny nodded, then looked at President Godard. “And we need you to hold off on telling President Pedroso.”

  The president raised both eyebrows. “That’s not a good idea, Manny. For many reasons. If anything happens while you are there, it will be a diplomatic nightmare. We can’t violate the sovereignty of Portugal. It will be an action we might not be able to walk back. As it is, they are demanding answers about that fire. President Pedroso phoned me last night to ask if any of the other thirteen consulate generals and embassies in France need to be on alert. Was this an isolated incident or something else? No, I can’t keep this from him. ”

  I studied President Godard for a few seconds. I’d become friends with his wife and learned more about him through her. I leaned forward. “Do you trust President Pedroso?”

  A quick smile told me he noticed that I’d turned his earlier question back on him. He inhaled deeply and slowly exhaled while thinking. “I’ve known Miguel Pedroso since his days serving in the European parliament. The last time we spoke was eight months ago during an EU climate change summit. He was outraged by the recklessness of countries prioritising popularity and money over protecting the environment for future generations. I can’t say I know him well, but I do trust him not to succumb to the manipulations of a criminal.”

  “Depends on what power the Collector has over him.” Manny gave the president a long look. “This is one of the most calculating criminals I’ve come across, Raymond. We can’t underestimate him.”

  “Let me think about this.” The president nodded once. “But keeping this from President Pedroso is not an option. If anything were to happen to or because of you while you’re there, the buck will stop with me. Alerting the president to your presence in his country might go a long way to smooth things over.” His tone brooked no argument. “I assume you haven’t told anyone else about Armando and this new development?”

  “Only him.” Manny tilted his head towards Captain Bouvier. “We know we can trust him and we need his help.”

  “If the president signs off on this, you can have Daniel and his team.” There was no more displeasure in the captain’s nonverbal cues. He was surprised and pleased by Manny’s trust. And I’d seen the deep disgust he’d shown hearing about the Collector’s actions.

  “There’s more, isn’t there?” The president looked at me.

  “Armando and the others want immunity. They won’t give us the information they have on the Collector unless they are granted full immunity for their crimes.”

  The president looked at Manny. “And from the look on your face, I’m assuming it’s not a good idea.”

  Manny proceeded to list Inge’s, Jake’s, Armando’s and Paulo’s crimes—alleged as well as those they’d been convicted of. By the time he finished with Paulo’s numerous crimes, Captain Bouvier’s face had increased in colour, his lips pressed into a thin line. He looked at the president. “You can’t seriously consider this, sir.”

  “There’s more.” Manny told them about the art and intel Armando had offered as a gesture of good faith.

  President Godard sat back in his chair. “Well, damn. Access codes to a North Korean nuclear facility?”

  Manny nodded.

  “If that’s real, we can’t pass it up, Manny.” The president blinked a few times. “That’s invaluable intel. Immunity has been offered for much less.” He looked at me. “What do you think, Genevieve?”

  In an ideal world, all decisions would be yes or no, first or last, right or wrong, legal or illegal. But life had limitless nuances. This was one of the most important lessons I’d learned in the years I’d been working with the team. I’d tried so hard to keep my life binary, but it had only added to my distress. Accepting that every part of life had innumerable shades had given me more inner calm.

  I thought about this some more. It had been extremely difficult for me, but I’d come to accept that I wouldn’t always be able to have the rigid moral and ethical standards that made me feel safe. “Armando wasn’t specific when he asked for full immunity.”

  “Sounds bloody specific to me.” Manny shoved his hands in his trouser pockets.

  “He didn’t ask for international full immunity.” I looked at the president. “You couldn’t grant him that in any case. Would it be possible to grant them immunity from prosecution for crimes committed in France?”

  The president nodded once. “I can agree to that, but it will be conditional. None of them are ever to set foot in France again. If they enter any French territory, they’ll be arrested.”

  Captain Bouvier huffed a laugh, looking at me with approval clear on his face. “They get what they asked for, but I don’t think this is what they expected.”

  President Godard turned to Manny. “If you’re convinced going to Portugal is the right step, you have the green light. I’ll leave everything else up to you.”

  Chapter FIVE

  BIANCA LOOKED UP FROM her smartphone and smiled when we entered the hallway on Daniel’s floor. She straightened from where she was leaning against the closed front door of Daniel’s apartment and stepped to the side. “It’s all quiet in there. And it smells good.”

  “Thank you, Bianca.” Colin’s smile was warm. He’d told me how skilled and determined Bianca was every time he’d trained with the team. He respected her.

  Manny just glared at the front door. “What have they been doing?”

  “Cooking and chatting like teenage girls.” She rolled her eyes. “I’d rather be out here, reading briefings and prepping myself for whatever call we get next.” She nodded towards the door. “They’re all yours.”

  Vinnie pushed past us and opened the door. He ignored Manny’s grumbling and continued into the apartment. Manny followed him. Colin and Bianca shared a humour-filled, exasperated look before he pulled me with him towards the front door.

  “What the fuck is this?” Vinnie’s irritated question reached us before we entered the open living area. He was standing with his fists on his hips, glaring at Armando. The latter was in front of the stove, wearing a black apron, stirring something that smelled similar to Vinnie’s bolognese sauce.

  “I come from a family of great cooks.” Armando stirred the contents of the pot once more, nodded and turned off the plate. He turned to us. “They love their Portuguese foods, but I just never liked the taste. My mother, father and grandmother were always disgusted with me as a child. I insisted on putting tomato sauces and cheese on every dish. Apparently it was an unforgiveable sin to put that on Portugal’s revered fish and seafood dishes.”

  He took the pot off the stove and carried it to the dining room table. Daniel, Thierry and Pink were seated at the table, all the places set. A second, very large, pot was already on the table and as I walked closer, I saw it was filled with enough spaghetti to feed Daniel’s entire team. Twice.

  Armando sat down and waved at the available chairs. “Sit. There’s enough for everyone. Daniel allowed me to raid his kitchen.” He nodded towards the pots. “I hope you like Italian. It’s the only cuisine my palate appreciates.”

  Vinnie uttered a sound of deep disgust and crossed his arms tightly over his chest. He turned to Colin. “I hate this dude.” His top lip curled as his glare shifted from the two pots to Armando. His nostrils flared and he turned away. “I’ll be keeping Bianca company.”

  Armando watched Vin
nie stalk out of the flat, one side of his mouth lifting. “What crawled up his butt?”

  I jerked at the expression and decided to ignore that. I’d rather watch Armando’s shifting micro-expressions. It was revealing. Pulling his chin closer to his neck was an instinctive move we employed to protect our vitals. This subtle cue conveyed his anxiety even though his practiced nonchalance was good enough to be convincing to the average person.

  Colin squeezed my hand and let it go as he sat down across from Armando. Manny grunted and sat down hard at the head of the table, opposite Daniel. There were only two seats left, one next to Armando, the other between Colin and Manny. I took the obvious choice.

  Neither Manny, Colin nor I dished up, but the GIPN members filled their plates with Armando’s cooking. Even though it looked and smelled appetising, I didn’t trust Armando’s cooking. I didn’t trust him.

  Armando twisted spaghetti strands around his fork and looked at Manny. “So? Are we a go?”

  Manny slumped in his chair. “You have conditional immunity here in France. But it’s all up to Doc. One misstep from you and we’re done.”

  I blinked in surprise. When had I become solely responsible for the next steps? I knew Manny relied heavily on my input, but he’d never... I paused the train of thought and re-evaluated.

  Manny must’ve noticed something in Armando that had led him to conclude Armando considered me more of a threat than Manny. Was it when Armando had said he liked Manny? Was it the concerned glances Armando often sent my way? Probably both. Manny was much more astute in reading people than he’d ever want anyone to know.

  Now that I had better insight into Manny’s strategy, I was slightly annoyed that he hadn’t shared it. I wouldn’t have wasted precious seconds processing it. I put all that aside and looked at Armando.

  He was indeed disconcerted when he glanced at me. He swallowed and nodded. “Okay.”

  “Then talk.” Manny raised one eyebrow and stared at Armando.

  He slowly put down his fork. “I will talk. But not here. Not now. When we enter Portuguese airspace, I’ll sing like a canary.” He winked at Manny. “So when are we leaving?”

  The supratrochlear artery on Manny’s forehead became more prominent, an angry red shade creeping into his cheeks.

  Colin lowered his brow and looked straight at Armando. “Stop playing games, Armando. The people around this table are not the same kind of people you’ve been dealing with. Your games will backfire and you will lose any trust or goodwill from us. Give us something concrete, else there’s no going forward.”

  Armando’s half-smile faltered and he nodded. “You’ll find Venus with a Mirror in a storage locker here in Strasbourg.” He turned to Pink. “It’s close. Here in Neudorf.”

  “Which storage lockers? The Moonbox lockers?” Pink put down his utensils and picked up his tablet when Armando shook his head. “The Koala lockers on Rue du Ballon?”

  “Yes. It’s locker number nineteen.” Armando looked at Daniel. “The combination code is this building number and your apartment number.”

  “Bloody hell.” Manny’s mutter accompanied his hands tightening into fists.

  Pink got up from the table. “On it.”

  Colin leaned back in his chair. “You know that’s not enough. Give us something on the Collector. How do we even know you have anything?”

  Armando’s expression was sombre. “We have something. Don’t doubt that.” He rolled his shoulders. “We know that he collects with a purpose in mind.”

  “What purpose?” Daniel asked.

  “That I don’t know. But he said only a select few of the artworks he’s stolen have value to him. The others he doesn’t care about. He sells them so he can have the bitcoin to fund his other interests.”

  I had so many questions from these few sentences, I didn’t know where to begin.

  “Which paintings did he keep?” Colin asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “How the bloody hell do you know any of this?”

  Armando’s half-smile reappeared. “I’ll tell you when we’re in Portugal.”

  Manny swore and Colin asked a few more questions, all of which Armando replied to with non-answers. I thought about what he’d said. More importantly, I mentally replayed his facial expressions until I came to a conclusion.

  I waited for him to finish another denial, studying his expression. “Do you have direct contact with the Collector? Hmm... No. Okay. Do you have contact with someone close to the Collector?” I almost smiled at the micro-expressions flashing across his face. “You do.”

  Armando pressed both hands over his face and shook his head. Then he lowered his hands and looked at me, his eyes wide. “It’s really freaky when you do that.”

  “It’s not freaky. It’s skilled.” Colin put his hand on my forearm and rubbed my skin gently with his thumb. He knew the word ‘freak’ unsettled me. He kept his gaze on Armando. “You can’t blame us for not trusting you. All these games are tiring.”

  “And you can’t blame me for keeping some cards close to my chest.” Gone was his charade, his accent. “You say you don’t trust me, but I also have little to no reason to trust you. I’m only going on your reputation for keeping your word, Colin. But how do I know these guys won’t arrest us and throw away the key the moment you have all of us together? There is so much hostility from that one”—Armando jerked his chin at Manny—“I’m convinced he has handcuffs ready for me.”

  There was no reaction around the table. This was the first time Armando had spoken from his heart. The first time he’d allowed us to see how high the emotional cost was for him to be here, surrounded by people who could take his freedom from him and be justified in doing so.

  Colin glanced at Manny, then back at Armando. “Give us the locations of Inge’s emerald, Jake’s cars and those access codes Paulo stole. If it all checks out, we’re off to a good start.”

  “And what will you give me?” Armando leaned over his plate, his spaghetti forgotten. “Trust works both ways, Colin.”

  Colin looked at Manny. After two seconds, Manny turned to me. “Doc?”

  “Yes?”

  He closed his eyes and inhaled heavily. When he opened his eyes, he glared at me.

  For a few seconds, I watched him scowl at me. I worked through the exchange that had just taken place and nodded.

  Manny grunted and looked at Armando. “If, and this is a huge bloody ‘if’, we get that painting, the emerald, cars and access codes, we’ll leave for Portugal. But not a second earlier.”

  The relief on Armando’s face was so vivid, even the most untrained eye would’ve seen it. He swallowed and nodded once. Then looked at me. “I won’t let you down.”

  Chapter SIX

  “JEMMY!” THREE-YEAR-old Eric’s eyes widened the moment he saw me. He left his mom closing the front door and ran to the sofa where Colin and I were sitting. The smile on Nikki’s face was soft as she watched her son scramble onto the sofa next to Colin.

  “Hi, Doc G.” Nikki walked to the kitchen and hugged Vinnie. He was stirring a very aromatic dish in a pot. “Whatcha cooking, big punk?”

  “My superior spaghetti bolognese. Better than any Portuguese idiot can ever make.” He kissed the top of her head. “How’re ya doin’, little punk?”

  “Still as witty and smart as always. A bit confused about the Portuguese comment. But very happy that you’re making pasta.” She rested her hands on her stomach. “It’s been a long day at work and I need carbs.”

  She squeezed him one more time before letting go and joining Roxy at the dining room table. Doctor Roxanne Ferreira was Vinnie’s romantic partner and lived with him in our joint apartments. I seldom ventured into their side, but Roxy and Vinnie spent most of their free time with us in our open living area.

  As usual, Vinnie was cooking and Roxy was chatting about her day as a renowned infectious diseases specialist in a top-rated hospital here in Strasbourg. The pandemic had taken its toll on her, the n
ow-permanent dark rings under her eyes clear evidence of that. For the last year, Vinnie had made sure she ate two nutritious meals a day, at times using strong language until she made time to eat. Francine forced her away from her work at least twice a month for a spa day at Francine’s home.

  I’d been invited and at first had not accepted. Not until Nikki told me in detail what these spa days entailed. The next time I’d joined them. Francine and Nikki had prepared healthy snacks, but Francine had insisted on at least two bottles of wine to balance that ‘ridiculousness’ out. She and Nikki had given Roxy a mani- and pedicure. And chatted. A lot. I’d enjoyed spending a few frivolous hours with them. It had helped ease my own anxieties about the global health situation.

  “Jemmy?” Eric had climbed onto Colin’s lap and was staring at me. When he’d started talking, he’d called me ‘Dohgee’, which was too close to ‘dodgy’ for my liking. A few months ago, Vinnie and Roxy had offered to watch Eric for a weekend so Pink and Nikki could have what Roxy had called ‘sexy times’. That weekend, Eric had spent more time with Colin than with Roxy and Vinnie. He’d picked up on the name Colin preferred to call me: Jenny. Despite my attempts at correcting him, Eric continued to call me by his version: Jemmy. I’d grown to like it.

  I studied his young face and marvelled at how expressive he was. Not only with his nonverbal communication, but verbally as well. Nikki and Pink had decided together with Eric’s biological father Martin to raise Eric to be bilingual. This often slowed down a child’s linguistic development. Not Eric’s. My research had revealed that he had a far-above-average comprehension and vocabulary. In both French and English.

  And for a three-year-old, he was exceptionally sensitive to me. He instinctively knew when I was more and less affected by physical proximity.