by Estelle Ryan
Colin took my hand. “Want to be married for a few hours?”
“No.” My immediate reaction elicited snorts of laughter and shock on Bree’s face. She took another cupcake. A white one.
I didn’t like any of this. I had not mastered the diplomatic deceptions, exaggerations and politenesses neurotypicals employed in everyday communication. The few times I’d had to engage in such activities had been most trying.
Colin kissed the back of my hand. “Do you want us to stay? Bree can reschedule or we can find a different way.”
I considered this. Finding Antonin as soon as possible would greatly aid us in having a better understanding of Shahab’s art trade here in Prague. He might even give us insight into Shahab’s motivation or his end goal. Or why Shahab had tried to kill him. I sighed deeply. “No. I’ll do this.”
“Then we’d better get going.” Bree got up. “It’s a good twenty minutes to drive to his house.”
“Vin?” Colin also got up. “Dan?”
Daniel was still standing at the door. “I’ll pick Ivan up and meet you there.”
“I’ll take the old man with me.” Vinnie looked at me. “We’ve got your back, Jen-girl.”
“I know.” And I understood the meaning of his words in all its nuances. I truly trusted Vinnie to protect me, not just physically, but in all ways. He was a good friend.
It took us eighteen minutes to reach Karel Maslák’s house. Colin parked his SUV in a clearly affluent street. The only other vehicles here were in a price class not within reach for the average wage earner. Not even the above-average wage earner.
We were parked across from a house with large tinted windows. A small balcony led from the top floor to overlook the greenery on our side of the street. It was quiet and peaceful here.
“Give me a minute.” Colin opened the back of the SUV and took out a small case he always kept there. Four minutes later, a thin moustache rested on his upper lip, his dark hair now had blond streaks in it and was combed tightly against his skull to the side. The hazel contact lenses and wire-frame glasses completed the transformation. He looked the same, yet very different. He took out a wooden walking stick and leaned heavily on it. “Let’s go.”
“Colour me impressed.” Bree nodded in admiration. “Maybe I should make you my mentor.”
“If you hadn’t used a feminine pronoun, it would’ve been much better. Karel met me as Professor John Sandford, a scholar of Roman antiquities from Oxford University.” He looked at me. “We’ll make this work, love.”
I had used the drive here to mentally prepare myself for the deception that was about to ensue. I didn’t feel ready for it, but knowing all the micro-expressions and nonverbal cues that revealed untruthfulness was a tool I could use to deceive.
Colin’s gait looked painful as he followed Bree to the front door two houses down from where we’d parked. He looked down at the pavement. “Don’t look, but Daniel and Ivan just parked up ahead. Millard and Vinnie parked two cars behind us and I think they’re already somewhere close. We’re safe.”
“I’m not concerned about my physical safety.” Maybe I should’ve been, but it was the least of my concerns. “I need to know that you’ll do most of the communication.”
“Absolutely.” Colin’s smile was genuine. “It won’t be hard to get Karel to chat about his exploits in the sixties, seventies and eighties. I’ll make sure to lead the conversation.” He looked over at Bree. “You’re still good with that?”
“Completely, Professor Sandford.” She knocked on the front door, then rang the doorbell. “I’m here to listen and learn.”
The door opened before either of us could reply. An elegantly dressed older man swung the door wider and smiled. “Bree?”
“Mister Maslák, it is an incredible honour to meet you.” She stepped to the side. “This is my mentor, Doctor Genevieve Lenard.”
“And I am her husband Professor John Sandford.” Colin’s Received Pronunciation was often referred to as posh, heard from those in the higher echelons of British society. It grated on my mind.
“I know you.” Karel Maslák stared at Colin. “We met in 2001 at the Ancient Rome exhibition.”
“In London. I remember.” Colin shifted to lean more on his walking stick. “I was impressed by your memory then and even more so now. It’s an honour, sir.”
“Well, come in, come in.” He stepped away from the door and waved us inside.
I was tempted to look back into the street to reassure myself of Vinnie, Manny, Daniel and Ivan’s presence, but managed to simply nod and follow Colin into the foyer of the house. Colin’s eyes widened and his smile was genuine as he walked to the antique wall unit facing the front door. His attention was wholly on a bronze sculpture of a walking man. “Not my field of expertise, but I’d recognise an Alberto Giacometti sculpture anywhere. It’s breathtaking.”
“One of the few pieces I’ve collected over the years.” Karel closed the front door and walked to join Colin. “Oh, I’m lying. I’ve lived a life of indulging myself by collecting many pieces. Let’s go into the salon. My most valued artworks are there.”
Karel Maslák’s English was heavily accented, but spoken with ease. He walked into a large room to the left of the foyer and immediately started pointing out different artworks to Colin. Bree turned to me and rolled her eyes before she followed them into the room.
It was interesting to watch this older man strive to impress Colin. Or rather the alias Colin used—Professor John Sandford, who had been a seventeenth-century English clergyman and academic as well as a neo-Latin poet.
For a man who had a well-known reputation, one could easily assume Karel Maslák would be completely confident in his achievements. Yet he was regaling us with stories of how each piece was obtained, pausing frequently and only continuing once Colin exclaimed wonder and awe.
“And this Matisse I got from a countess in Poland. Mind you, her title was defunct, but she still referred to herself as a countess.” He pulled at the lapels of his tailored blazer. “I spent a Christmas Eve in her house. The décor was horrid. It looked like a cream monster had vomited all over the place. Puffy cream curtains, cream and gold wallpaper, so many embroidered cream cushions there was hardly space to sit.” He pointed at the leather wingback chairs placed to face the stone fireplace and waited for us to sit. “Dinner was a hoody-doo affair. The Italian ambassador was there as well as some famous film director and some other people. She spent the whole evening talking about herself, telling us about her four marriages. The last one was to a world-famous opera singer who had left her a fortune and a scandal.”
He leaned forward. “Three children born out of wedlock, while he was married to the countess.” He straightened and looked back at the colourful painting. “I was just going through my own divorce at the time and could really empathise with her. I think that is why she sold me this Matisse for such a good price. Or maybe it was because her husband had bought this for her after she found him kissing a mezzo-soprano in their kitchen.”
Now I understood his reputation. The animation with which he talked and his ability to engage with us made him a great storyteller. But if all his stories were like the one he’d just told, I could not bear to spend unnecessary time with him. Francine would love hearing such gossip. Bree did. Her inability to sit still and the quick swipe of her tongue over her lips was a clear giveaway of her anticipation for the next anecdote.
Colin also enjoyed it. The pleasure on his face was sincere and plain to see. He asked Karel about the Degas painting hanging above the fireplace and sat back to enjoy the story. I didn’t enjoy it. It did, however, give me more than sufficient time to create a baseline for Karel’s nonverbal communication and better understand the nuances of his discourse.
“I’m talking too much again.” Karel chuckled, then looked at Bree. “You said you wanted to ask me questions.”
“I did, but I think I’ll leave it to Professor Sandford.”
Karel shifted
slightly back and put one arm across his body. He was closing up. “What is this really about?”
“You are indeed as observant as your reputation tells us.” Colin fiddled with the copper handle of his walking stick. “I had ulterior motives coming here. After the amazing life you’ve lived in the art world, I know that you have contacts everywhere. I also think I am right to assume that you keep tabs on everything and everyone noteworthy.”
“Go on.” Karel rested both elbows on the arms of his chair, displaying his growing confidence.
“I need to find Antonin Korn.”
“Go to his gallery.”
“He’s not there.” Colin leaned forward and lowered his head as if to impart a secret. “This is a matter of utmost importance, one I wish I could tell you about, but the confidentiality agreement with the other party and my lawyer’s advice prevents me from sharing. For now.”
Karel’s eyes widened slightly, then he nodded once in understand of Colin’s unspoken message. It was now clear to me that this man lived for information few others had. “Antonin is very much like the countess’ baritone husband.”
“He’s with a lover?”
Karel’s shrug was unsuccessfully nonchalant. “I know that opera singers like visiting historic villages around Prague when they’re here. There is one such village. Its history of wealth and what is now perceived as horror draws hundreds of thousands of tourists every year. People love the morbid chandeliers and Halloween-type abbey. You might want to visit it yourself. It’s beautiful in spring.”
“That’s very kind of you, Karel.” Colin rested his hand on his chest. “It would be a privilege to visit you in the future to hear more of your amazing adventures. And to tell you how we enjoyed our visit to the villages surrounding Prague.”
Karel studied Colin for a few seconds, then got up. “I would like that. Very much.”
It took us eleven minutes to leave Karel Maslák’s house. He told Colin three more stories and warmed up to Bree when she laughed at his humour. He looked at me only twice. Neither time was with cordiality. I didn’t care.
As soon as we left the house, Colin shook his head. “Wait until we’re in the car.”
It was hard. I had many questions. Colin walked with difficulty to the SUV and got in after he put his walking stick in the back. As soon as he closed his door, he turned to me, but frowned when I leaned away from him.
I pointed at his face. “Take off the moustache.”
He laughed and carefully removed this part of his disguise. He took off the glasses, removed the contact lenses and pushed his fingers through his hair a few times. The colour was still not right, but it looked more like his usual style. I nodded. “Do you know to which village he was referring?”
“Kutná Hora.” Colin took out his phone. “Let’s get a quick open line with everyone.” He phoned Francine and within a minute she’d put all of us on a conference call. “Okay everyone, I’ll give a detailed account of our meeting with Karel later, but for now I need Francine and Ivan to find out who Antonin’s lover is and where she lives in Kutná Hora.”
“Is Korn there?” Manny asked.
“Karel thinks so,” Colin said. “He didn’t come out and say it in so many words, but his hints were quite clear.”
“Doc?”
I considered my answer for a moment. “Karel was being cryptic. His nonverbal communication was truthful, but his words unclear.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“May I?” Colin waited until I nodded. “I think Karel doesn’t like Antonin. That is my gut feeling without any real evidence. But what I’m one hundred percent sure of is that Karel wants more gossip stories to tell. And it would be even better for him if he could be the star of that story. He quickly gave me hints as to Antonin’s whereabouts when I said I would be back to tell him about it. I swear he got stars in his eyes the moment I said that.”
“Francine?” I preferred to hear from Francine rather than pontificate about the silly star expression. “Do you have anything yet?”
“One... mo... yes!” Her bracelets jingled through the speakers. She must’ve thrown her hands up in victory. “Antonin’s company records show that he paid a salary to a Hana Zonová for three years as a gallery assistant. She resigned last year and moved to Kutná Hora. Since then her bank records show monthly payments from Antonin’s private bank account. And she also owns a house in the village. That also magically appeared in her name last year.”
“Okay, I’ll get the right legal paperwork for us to go there.” Ivan paused. “Francine, how did you get access to Hana Zonová’s bank records?”
“Hello? Hello? Oh, darn it! We have a bad connection. I have to go.” A click sounded.
Vinnie’s chuckle was accompanied by Manny’s swearing. “Bloody hell. Ivan, I apologise. We’ll make this right.”
“Please don’t.” Ivan’s tone confused me. I wished I could see his face to determine whether he was annoyed or amused. “I’ll make sure everything is done legally.”
“What now, oh fearless leader?” Colin asked.
“Bugger off, Frey.” Manny was silent for a moment. “Ivan, how soon can you get your paperwork done?”
“My team will do it. It should be ready by the time we reach Kutná Hora.”
“Then this is what we are doing, Frey.” Manny mumbled an insult which had Vinnie chuckling again.
“Love you too, Millard.” Colin ended the call and started his SUV.
Chapter TWELVE
“UM, YOU KNOW I’M STILL here, right?”
I turned around to look at Bree sitting cross-legged on the back seat. “Of course we know you’re still here.” Where else would she be?
We’d left Karel Maslák’s house and had been driving towards Kutná Hora for the last seventeen minutes. We’d just left the outskirts of Prague and were travelling east on a highway. This seemed to be mostly flat farmland interrupted by small villages.
Colin was following Ivan’s SUV, driving at a speed that was at the limit of my comfort zone. The few vehicles that were travelling in the same direction as us quickly made way when they noticed the flashing police light on the roof of Ivan’s SUV. Vinnie and Manny were behind us in the silver rental sedan.
“I think it might’ve slipped Millard’s mind.” Colin’s smile deepened when he glanced at Bree in the rear-view mirror. “He’s going to be pissed.”
“He really is a huggable, sweet porcupine, isn’t he?” Bree’s expression held the same glee as Colin’s. I didn’t understand.
“That’s Millard in a nutshell for you.” He glanced again in the rear-view mirror. “Why did you choose Düsseldorf?”
“Honest answer? My brother hates Düsseldorf.”
“That doesn’t make sense.” I thought about this. “Unless you have a bad relationship with your brother and don’t want him to visit you.”
“Nah.” She lifted her braid and twirled it around her finger in what seemed a habit. Her posture and this unconscious action while she thought were interesting indicators of a feeling of safety and comfort. “I get on very well with my brother. Even though he is a huge pain in my butt.”
“Why’s that?” Colin asked.
“The little shit is five years younger than me. Gareth is Tom’s son, so that makes him my half-brother. My much younger brother. When he turned thirteen, he was taller than me. Not that it’s very hard to be taller than me. When he turned fifteen, he started treating me like his baby sister. Being all protective and uggha-uggha.”
“What’s uggha-uggha?” I was not familiar with this vocabulary.
Bree laughed. “Like he’s the big man protecting me, the little girl.”
“Were you already living as a female?” I asked.
Her eyes stretched wide, then narrowed until she studied me through slits. “When I did my research on Phillip and I learned about you, I had to read up on autism. You’re very frank, right?”
I nodded.
“And there’
s no malice,” Colin said. “Genevieve’s questions and comments are without judgement.”
“Why would I judge?” I didn’t understand why Colin thought this important to point out. Yet the relief on Bree’s face showed it had been her concern. I turned even more in my seat to fully observe her. “Being transgender is only judged by people who don’t understand, appreciate and fully embrace the complexity and difference within the human species.”
She stared at me, eyes wide. “Wow. That’s... I think I love you.”
I jerked back, then relaxed when I registered her expression. “You’re jesting.”
“Only a little. There are very few people with such an open mind.” She glanced at Colin. “My brother has an open mind, but he tells me that his job in Scotland Yard has shown him how horrid people can be.”
“And that’s why he’s taken on the role of your protector.”
“Much to my dismay.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m a big girl and can take care of myself.” She snorted. “Okay, maybe not physically big. But I can look after myself.”
I thought of the people who had become my family. “It’s important in a relationship to trust other parties to look out for you.”
She was quiet for a minute. “Is it easy for you?”
“No.” Not even after six and half years with them. “But I’m determined to learn.”
“Gareth is a little bit right about people being awful to me. He saw how I was treated in school while I was finding myself.” She sighed. “It was difficult for him as well. We moved a lot and in every new school, he was the freak’s little brother.”
There was so much I needed to say that I didn’t know where to begin. “There is no such thing as a little bit right. It’s either right or wrong.”
“That’s what you’re going with?” She laughed. “Not telling me I’m not a freak?”
“You’re not and you know you’re not.”
She slapped both hands on her thighs. “That’s it. I love you. Completely. Fully.”