The Sirani Connection

by Estelle Ryan

  But it was the shock on Phillip’s face that brought blackness to my peripheral vision. A deep sadness pulled the corners of his mouth down. He walked towards the woman, his head tilted. He stopped next to Manny, his expression soft as he shook his head in disbelief. “You look just like your mother.”

  Chapter NINE

  “WHAT THE BLOODY HELL is going on here?”

  “Who are you?”

  “Wait. What?”

  Shouted questions continued to go unanswered, but I could barely focus on anything except controlling my non-neurotypical reaction to sensory overload. I turned my back on everyone and concentrated on my breathing and Mozart.

  “Jenny, I’m here.” Colin’s hand was warm on my shoulder. I let the Larghetto of Mozart’s Quintet flow through my mind as I focused on Colin’s hand slowly sliding down my arm. I opened my fist and gripped his hand.

  I turned around and looked at Colin while I took three slow breaths. His attention had not drifted anywhere else. He smiled at me. “There you are.”

  “I didn’t leave.”

  “I know.” He took my hands in his and squeezed lightly. “Okay?”

  I nodded. I took another three breaths, but didn’t feel ready to look at the others. I moved closer to Colin, my voice quiet. “Is Phillip well?”

  Colin twisted around and I stared at his ear. If I saw any form of distress on Phillip—a man who’d become like a father to me—it would completely overwhelm me. Colin turned back, his smile genuine. “He’s fine. Millard looks ready to go to war though.”

  That relaxed me. An angry Manny was familiar ground to me. I blinked a few times and looked around Colin. Everyone but Manny and Vinnie was sitting on the sofas in the centre of the area. Francine was tapping on her tablet screen, Roxy holding Vinnie’s hand resting on her shoulder as he stood behind her.

  Phillip was staring at the woman, his expression gentle as if recalling a memory. The sadness I saw was slight. He was not distraught.

  Manny swung around when the woman’s gaze turned to me. He shook his index finger at me. “Come sit down here and do your job, missy.”

  “How dare you.” The woman moved to the edge of the seat. “She doesn’t deserve such treatment.”

  Confusion pulled at the stranger’s face when her comment caused a few snorts and chuckles. Francine fluttered her eyelids, but didn’t look up from her tablet. “For the record, I agree. But you’re never going to turn a Komodo dragon into a unicorn.”

  “Doc.” Manny shook his finger at the sofa again. Colin and I sat down. Manny turned back to the woman. “Name.”

  “Bree.”

  “Gabriella Reuben.” Francine’s smile was smug when she lifted her tablet. “Got you here, girlie.”

  “Urgh.” Gabriella Reuben faked a large shudder. “Only my mother ever called me Gabriella. And that was when I had done something really, really naughty.”

  Phillip shook his head, his smile nostalgic. “How is your mother?”

  “No.” Manny sliced his hand through the air. “No sweet stories. Why have you been following us?”

  Bree looked at Francine’s tablet. “Feel free to tell them.”

  “She’s a journalist.” Francine scrolled on the tablet screen. “Quite a well-respected one.”

  “I’m doing research on a story.” Bree frowned at Francine, then looked at Manny and shook her head. “Don’t even ask what it’s about. I never reveal anything until I publish.”

  Manny turned to me. “Doc?”

  By no means did I have enough information to give an accurate assessment of this woman’s truthfulness. Instead I addressed something that seemed to have slipped everyone else’s notice. “You are here because of your interest in Tomas Broz and the Elisabetta Sirani discovered under his bed. Aha. You’re shocked. Then it would shock you even more that we know you’ve been considering setting up a meeting with Phillip. Hmm. Like I thought. But why are you scared?”

  “Why?” Bree’s eyes were wide, her arms crossed tightly across her chest. “I have no idea how you would know any of this.”

  “You don’t know? Oh, boy, oh, boy.” Francine leaned towards Bree. “Your AI sent Phillip an email.”

  “My what? How?” She looked at Phillip, then at me. “I really don’t know what’s going on.”

  “Truth.”

  Her expression relaxed. “You must be Doctor Lenard. The body language expert.”

  “You found this information while researching me.” Phillip’s eyes narrowed in thought. It took mere seconds, then regret filled his face. “I’m not your father, Bree.”

  “Bloody hell!”

  “Oh, my God!”

  “Shit, dude.”

  Bree didn’t react to the exclamations. Her gaze remained steady on Phillip. “How can you be so sure? Mom talked about you a lot. I know she loved you.”

  “And I loved her.” Phillip sighed deeply, then looked at us. “I think it’s best to give context.”

  “Ooh, yes, please.” Francine’s eyes were wide with excitement, her smile joyous. She loved personal gossip.

  Phillip looked up and left, recalling a memory. “Decades ago. I was working at a boutique insurance company. I was the manager at that stage. Laura was the curator at the small contemporary art gallery in London. We met when the gallery wanted to change insurance companies and also heighten their security. It was just after the famous Degas exhibition heist.”

  “She still tells that story.” Bree’s smile was genuine and filled with affection. “All the time.”

  “It caused great consternation in the art world at that time.” Phillip leaned back in the sofa. “Laura was determined that her gallery would never be on the list of such heists. We worked together on their insurance package and got to know each other.”

  “Quite well,” Bree added. “Mom told me about the many nights the two of you would sit and talk until sunrise.”

  “We never had intercourse.”

  “Bloody hell, Phillip.” Manny pressed his fists against his eyes for two seconds. “There are some things we don’t need to know.”

  “Shush.” Francine waved one hand at Manny. “All data is relevant.”

  I ignored her when she winked at me. I didn’t want Phillip to share anything that would cause him discomfort.

  Phillip smiled at Bree. “Your mom and I... I’ve never had a connection like that with anyone else. She understood what I said without me ever having to explain, justify or give context. It was like she could see every intention in what I said.”

  “She’s still like that.”

  “But there was never romance.” There was no regret on Phillip’s face. “We would’ve damaged... no, we would’ve destroyed our friendship if we’d taken it any further.”

  “But you lost contact.”

  “We did. On purpose. Your mom deserved to find a man who could love her and be with her the way she needed. Being friends with me held her back.” This time his smile was sad. “She sent me an invitation to her wedding, but I thought it best not to go.”

  “Tom.” Bree nodded. “He’s the bee’s knees.”

  “But not your father.” Phillip narrowed his eyes. “Why did you think I was your dad?”

  “Tom came three years after I was born.” She pointed at her face. “And he’s as black as Mom. This light skin and my light blue eyes came from someone else. The black and curly hair? That’s all Mom.”

  “So why don’t you ask your mom who your biological father is?” Roxy asked.

  “She doesn’t want to tell me.” Bree shrugged. “She says he was a one-night stand to be forgotten.”

  “Do you believe her?” Francine asked.

  “Yes.” Bree glanced at Francine’s tablet. “But the journalist in me is relentless. My mom always jokes that I got in the right profession because I’m so nosy.”

  Francine continued to scroll her tablet screen, stopping every now and then to read something before she continued.

  “If Laura is the w
ay I remember her, she would tell you if you really wanted to know who your father is.” Phillip tilted his head. “Do you really want to know?”

  Bree inhaled deeply and held her breath before exhaling loudly. “Maybe. I don’t know. I suppose I just wanted to learn more about myself.”

  “Huh.” Francine’s eyes were wide, her mouth slightly agape as she stared at her tablet screen. She slowly looked up at Bree. “You gonna tell them or should I?”

  Bree’s shoulders slumped and she dropped her head back against the sofa. Then she sat up and straightened the fedora on her head, her mouth twisted in a wry smile. “I thought you saw it before. Surprised it took so long for you to say something. No matter where I go, it always follows me. Or even waits for me.”

  “Speak!” Manny took a step towards Bree, but stopped when Francine shook her head. The sympathy and discomfort on Francine’s face were curious.

  “It’s no longer the first result when you Google my name, but it will be at the bottom of the first page at the very least.” Bree raised her hands as if creating an air banner. “‘Gabriella Reuben, scandalous transgender reporter.’”

  “You’re a dude?” Vinnie jerked when Roxy slapped his hand hard. “Uh, sorry.”

  “I don’t care what you are.” Manny stared at Vinnie then at Bree. “You still have a lot of explaining to do.”

  “I won’t reveal m—”

  “I don’t bloody care how you think you do your work!” This time Manny walked right up to where Bree was sitting and glared down at her. “We know you’re investigating the theft of the Sirani. That means you’re now a person of interest in our investigation.”

  Bree raised her hand to stop Manny. It was interesting to observe that she didn’t react like most people to Manny’s intimidation. Instead her tone was calm and respectful, her nonverbal cues cautious, but not fearful. “I really don’t understand how you can know this.”

  “Let me tell her.” Francine waited until Manny nodded once and stepped back, then told Bree how her AI had sent a recording of her conversation to Phillip.

  Bree’s eyes grew wider the more Francine revealed about the AI system. “Oh, Tobie is going to be gutted.”

  “Tobie?” Manny asked.

  “My assistant. I was talking to him. He’s in our hotel at the moment doing more research.” She scratched her head, then righted her fedora. “Tobie was the one who insisted I get the AI. It would streamline everything, he said. It would order food before I even knew I was hungry, he said. It would keep me ahead of the pack, he said. Hah.”

  “Well, it can do all that, but you need to have tight control over your AI, the programming as well as the security, to make sure the thing doesn’t turn into a science fiction horror flick.” Francine shared a smile with Bree. “Serious horror flick.”

  “Oh, I get that now.” She looked down at her hands. “I think I will take great pleasure in crushing that device as soon as I get home.”

  “What’s your connection to Hatami?” Manny’s abrupt question froze Bree for a second.

  Then her eyes narrowed. “Who’s Hatami?”

  It was most intriguing to observe her nonverbal cues. I didn’t comment, trusting Manny to correctly analyse her reaction.

  He slumped. “You mean to tell me you don’t know who he is?”

  “No.” She bit down on her lips to prevent from further comment.

  “But you’re now interested in him and are thinking about how to find that information.” Manny rubbed one hand over his face before he stepped back and looked at me. “Get her to talk.”

  I didn’t respond to his irrational request.

  “Okay, here’s the thing.” Francine put her tablet on the sofa next to her and sat on the edge, closer to Bree. “In order for us to let you leave here and not phone Ivan, our friend in the Czech police, to arrest your tiny, sexy butt, you need to talk to us.”

  Bree shook her head.

  “Girl, you don’t want these people to gang up on you. You’ll lose. Whatever it is you think you’re investigating at the moment, it’s much larger than that.”

  Bree pressed her lips together.

  “What about a compromise?” Phillip pulled at the cuffs of his shirt. “Bree tells us everything she knows and we will give her material for her article to publish after the case is closed.”

  “No.” Manny crossed his arms.

  “That’s not a bad idea, old man.” Vinnie was staring at Bree. At her throat, her chest, her hips and back at her throat.

  Bree rolled her eyes at Vinnie, then looked at Manny. “I could agree. But then I want exclusive rights to everything you know.”

  “Why would you agree so easily?” Colin asked.

  Bree shrugged, but didn’t answer.

  After a few seconds of silence, Francine sighed dramatically. “Seems like I’m the only smart one here today.” She pointed at Bree. “That one is trying to look all innocent and pretty, but her investigative articles and the scandals that she’s uncovered tell me that she knows about us.”

  I didn’t even have to concentrate to see the truth in Bree’s reaction. “She knows.”

  “Okay, fine!” Bree fell back in the sofa and narrowed her eyes at Francine. “We could’ve been friends, you know.”

  “Oh, we’ll be best buds soon.” Francine winked at her. “After you tell us all your deepest darkest secrets.” She winced. “Not those ones. I’m talking about the article you’re investigating at the moment.”

  “Anything that was deep, dark and secret was in that tell-all article about my gender. With a lot of added rubbish. I have nothing to hide about my life.”

  “Just your work,” Francine said. “Well, spill.”

  Bree closed her eyes and shook her head. Working on what she’d revealed, this would be the first or maybe one of the few times she’d shared details about a story she was developing. I could appreciate doing something new that felt wrong and uncomfortable.

  “Okay.” Bree clapped her hands and sat up straight. “But before I tell you, I want some form of guarantee that I’ll have my story.”

  “No.” Manny held out his hand when Francine inhaled loudly. “Hold your horses for a sec.” He looked at Bree. “First, I’m going to have you vetted. What we are working on at the moment deals with issues of national security.”

  “Which nation?”

  Manny ignored her question. “If, and I reiterate, if you pass our vetting, we’ll be able to share some intel with you. But you can’t just go and publish what you want all willy-nilly.”

  “I know how this works, Colonel Millard.” She nodded at Francine’s tablet. “I’ve published articles about peacekeeping efforts in Sudan and war crimes in Bulgaria. I’ve worked with MI5 and MI6 as well as the International Criminal Court. I know how to maintain the trust of those who allow me to enter an area deeply confidential, fraught with possibilities of great destruction to lives and careers.”

  “We’ll be the judge of that.” Manny waited until Bree nodded. “Now talk.”

  “Okay. I’m working on an in-depth article into the use of art as currency for the black market. With black market, I’m talking about drugs, guns, political bribes and the like. But I find myself currently more focused on the drug trade. It seems like these guys really like their art. While looking into that, I came across Tomas Broz’s name.”

  “You mean a drug dealer told you about him,” Vinnie said.

  “Anyway, that was a few weeks ago and Tomas Broz had become a legend. No one had heard from or seen him in three years. Not after the Sirani was stolen. And by the way, if he hadn’t disappeared off the face of the earth at the same time as the Sirani, he wouldn’t have been the main suspect.”

  “True.” Colin nodded. “Not a smart move.”

  “Which made me wonder why such a successful thief would do something so stupid after years of evading authorities.” She smiled. “Imagine my joy when he was arrested. I knew he would be a wealth of information and just had to speak
to him.”

  “How did you get into the police station?” Manny’s tone and posture was still hostile, but had relaxed marginally.

  “I walked in with a group of officers. No one even looked at me funny.” She raised one shoulder. “You just have to look like you belong. And being short always helps.”

  “What did Broz tell you?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You don’t know?”

  “Why would we?”

  “Uh, I saw cameras everywhere.”

  The room fell silent. Bree looked from Manny to Phillip to me. Then she looked at Francine, confusion drawing her eyebrows together. I made sure to observe every micro-expression. I shook my head. “She doesn’t know about the footage.”

  “What about what footage?” Her head swung from me to Manny and back. “Please tell me what’s going on.”

  I had a deep appreciation for the need to know, but through experience knew to wait with my answer. It was difficult not to answer and tell the truth. I pressed my fist against my mouth and looked at Manny.

  “Hellfire.” He sat down next to Francine, still looking at Bree. “This doesn’t mean I trust you.”

  “Okay.”

  “All footage of you in the police station is gone. Deleted the moment you left the station.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Well, I was hoping you were going to tell us. But since you don’t know this, you can now tell us everyone you’ve spoken to about your article.”

  Bree smiled, then twisted her mouth in an expression that was becoming familiar. “Only one person. My brother.”

  “He’s a criminal?”

  She laughed. “Oh, God, no. He’s in Scotland Yard. And, well, I didn’t really speak to him. I overheard him on the phone over Christmas when he was speaking to one of his colleagues. It sounded like they were talking about a stolen clock or something like that from a burglary a few days before.

  “My brother was going on about a memo he’d read the beginning of last year about an increase in the use of art as currency in the crime world. I thought that would make a great article.”

  “So you know diddly-squat.”