by Sara Rosett
“You didn’t tell me.”
“There wasn’t time.”
“Jack—” She made an inarticulate sound, which she realized Jack probably couldn’t hear, but he saw her face.
He said, “You’re so upset you don’t know what to say? Let’s call it a draw. That’s how I felt when you were in there.”
“But you didn’t have to move when Mary made for the door and draw her attention.”
“I couldn’t let her just walk out—not when she was only a step away.”
“She was surrounded by police officers! And look at all these officers out here. She wouldn’t have gotten far. Who knows how many more officers Munez has out here?”
“Seven,” Jack said. “But I was right there. Seemed a shame to let her walk right by. She didn’t think for a moment that I’d have a vest on. The element of surprise is the best weapon.”
“Well, let’s not wield that weapon again, okay?”
“Says the woman who just came through a confrontation with a member of an international gang and a gun-toting crazy woman.”
“I don’t know whether to slap you…or…or…”
“Kiss me?”
“That’s not what I was thinking.”
“Then hold that thought.” Jack folded her into his arms. After a few seconds the tension went out of her, and she wrapped her arms around his chest, bulky vest and all.
36
Thursday
“In all the confusion I completely forgot about Gloria. What happened to her? Where is she?” Zoe asked.
It had been almost twenty-four hours since the encounter in the temple, and thankfully both she and Jack could hear clearly.
It had taken until three in the morning before Zoe and Jack had been able to return to their hotel room, which they were glad to find had been cleaned and the bed remade. Three in the morning was not actually that late by Madrid standards, but Zoe and Jack were both exhausted. Zoe had slept straight through sunrise and didn’t wake up until afternoon. They had packed up and returned to Zoe’s original hotel to claim the belongings that she had left there, then it had been a busy afternoon of tying up loose ends as they completed their statements for Munez and made new airline reservations. Now that all that was finished, they were celebrating their last night in Madrid.
Jack reached for one of the mushrooms on the small plate between them. “A few minutes after you left to go to the temple, Munez showed up and said one of his officers needed to speak to Gloria.”
They were sitting at wooden tables with picnic-style benches in one of Madrid’s oldest and most well-known tapas bars, El Mesón del Champiñón, which had an interesting interior design theme. Bulbous protrusions of stucco festooned the walls and coved ceiling, giving the place a sort of hippy-dippy atmosphere, despite the building being quite old—a section of Madrid’s city wall was visible near the door.
The mushrooms were served with the stems removed and the caps filled with chorizo, oil, and herbs. Two toothpicks punctured each side of the mushroom cap, which made it easy to pick them up and eat them without spilling any of the stuffing. Zoe used the toothpicks to pick up a mushroom. “I bet that threw Gloria.”
“Yeah, she was pretty shaken up,” Jack said. “She didn’t know what to do, but then Munez told her that he’d had Fossa under surveillance, and he knew that the two of them had met. She seemed to consider her options for a second, then started talking. She said Fossa had threatened to take her daughter unless she helped him. Fossa didn’t care how Gloria ensured we brought the flash drive to him. She just had to make sure we did it.”
“So she made up the story about her daughter being kidnapped, just like we thought.” Zoe popped the mushroom in her mouth and savored the rich flavors.
“Gloria did send her daughter to stay with her grandmother. Maybe she really was afraid that Fossa would do it.”
Zoe shook her head. “I don’t see him snatching a kid. Too much work.”
“But sometimes all it takes is the threat to motivate someone.”
“I still think money was involved,” Zoe said. “The kidnapping story was to convince us to give up the flash drive, and then she used it to cover herself with Munez.”
“That’s possible, too. Either way, Munez will sort it out. And at the very least, he now has a witness to testify in the trial against the Trullas gang. Even though Fossa isn’t the head of the gang, every bit of evidence will help the case the task force has been building. Anyway, it was right about that point, when Gloria was telling him about Fossa, that Munez got word Kaz had entered the temple.”
“So how did that happen? I mean, I know Kaz knew where I was because of the tracking app on my phone, but how did he know to bring a gun—albeit a toy gun—and that Fossa would be there?”
“As soon as Gloria heard Kaz’s name she went white as a sheet—I’ve never seen anyone’s skin actually change tone like that. It was weird. I could see the color draining away. She switched over to Spanish. Munez told me later she was calling Kaz all sorts of names. After she spoke to us at the café, Kaz called her and told her he’d just arrived here. She told him about Fossa and the scheduled drop. She thought she’d warned him off, but instead of backing down, he found a play gun and crashed the drop.”
“He obviously didn’t understand who he was dealing with—either Fossa or Mary. I sort of admire him for rushing in there, clinging to his ideals.”
“He was idealistic, but foolish, a dangerous combination,” Jack said.
“Fossa would have made short work of him, if Mary hadn’t stopped him. And Mary,” Zoe couldn’t repress a shiver, “her eyes were so cold. She only wanted that flash drive and didn’t care who she hurt to get it.” Zoe shook off that scary thought and reached for another mushroom.
“Any word on if Munez’s task force made arrests yet?” It was a question that Zoe had meant to ask Munez, but she hadn’t had the opportunity when she went over her statement. Munez had interviewed her and Jack separately so she didn’t know what Munez and Jack had talked about.
“Munez was cagey when I asked. He told me two things. First, he said to check the news.” Jack took out his phone. “I looked while you were in your interview. I had to search quite a bit to find an English language version of the story, but this showed up.”
Zoe wiped her hands on her napkin then took the phone. She read the headline aloud, “Police Take Down International Cyber Gang With Links to Human Trafficking and Terrorism.” Zoe handed the phone back. “I’d say that’s a yes.”
Jack said, “The second thing he said was that he’d finally caught his big fish and most of the small ones, too.”
“Which sounds like he got Mato and Fossa, too.”
“Right. One thing I forgot to ask Munez about was the flash drive. We’ll never know why Novall put the zero-day on a flash drive and tried to transport it in the painting. Why not send it online? It’s a question that will keep me awake at night.”
“I have a cure for your insomnia,” Zoe said.
Jack leaned closer and lowered his voice. “I’m all ears.” The gleam in his eyes was mischievous.
“Not that,” Zoe said. “You’ll be able to sleep because I have the answer to your question.” She paused and looked at him through her lashes. “Of course, other cures for insomnia aren’t off the table.”
“Excellent,” Jack said.
“But for now, let me tell you what Munez said about Kaz. He will recover, by the way, just like Mary said. Kaz will be back to work soon—but probably not for Thacker.”
“No charges against him?” Jack asked.
“No. Apparently Kaz’s knowledge of the hacker world and his testimony are more important to Munez,” Zoe said.
“I imagine it would be.”
A waiter stopped to check on them, and Zoe waited until he left, then said, “Okay, back to Kaz. I thought Novall sending data on a flash drive was weird, too. I mean, you and Carla set up that secure, private connection thing pretty fast, and
she had access to the files on the flash drive in a few minutes. I wondered why Novall and Kaz went to all the trouble of getting it in the frame of the painting.”
“Right,” Jack said. “Or why didn’t Novall just release it himself? Why send it to Kaz?”
“Munez wouldn’t tell me much, but he did say he’d learned from Kaz that Novall was extremely cautious about moving the material out of his office. He’d done it one piece of paper at a time—printed it out, then re-typed it at home. Apparently it took him weeks to complete the process. Novall was going to release the zero-day himself, but then he got nervous. He was being watched, which Munez thinks was probably his office spying on him. Apparently, they weren’t as clueless as he seemed to think. And he learned about a new hack his company was working on. Munez wouldn’t tell me what it was—and I probably wouldn’t have understood it if he had—but he said it scared Novall so badly that he decided he had to be absolutely sure he left no digital footprint when he sent the zero-day. Kaz offered to release it for him, but Novall wouldn’t send it to Kaz digitally—he was that spooked. Kaz wanted Novall to mail it to him, but Novall didn’t want to do that because it would have to pass through too many hands to get to Kaz.”
“But he mailed it to Gloria. What made him change his mind?” Jack asked.
“He didn’t mail it. He bribed the concierge in her building to put it in her mailbox.”
“That was a risk,” Jack said. “I’m surprised he did that.”
“Apparently he decided it was the best he could do. He was afraid to send it digitally because of the new hack his company was working on, and he knew he couldn’t move it himself.”
“I wonder why not? That would have been the simplest thing. He could call in sick, then hop on a plane.”
“He was afraid that whoever was watching him would keep him from leaving the country. He said the people who were following him wouldn’t let him leave.”
“I wonder what put him off sending it digitally?” Jack stared across the room. “Val-Tech must be working on a way to crack anonymity. If they did that…” He shook his head, “…let’s just say lots of people would be extremely nervous.”
“Is that something you’d hear about, if it happens?” Zoe asked.
“Oh, yeah. It’ll be all over the hacker community. And speaking of that, Carla sent me a text. She said to expect an update on certain mobile devices in the next day or two.”
Zoe squinted at him. “Does that mean what I think it means?”
“Yes. She finally got in touch with a friend of a friend of a friend who took the information on the zero-day. A fix is in the works.”
“So no one will be able to use it to spy on anyone,” Zoe said. “That’s great news.”
“As long as everyone updates, that vulnerability is closed to crooks and to—er—any other interested parties.” Jack sipped his sangria. “And now I want to hear your news. You were on the phone with Thacker a long time.”
“I’ll say. That’s one call that I’m glad is over. I wasn’t sure how he would react because he was so angry the last time I spoke to him. But he was actually quite pleased. It was a nice change to have good news for him.”
“Thacker is happy that his wife has been arrested and is involved in international cybercrime?”
“No, he didn’t have much to say about Mary. I get the feeling that Thacker is one of those people that once you cross him, he cuts all ties with you.” Zoe swished her hand across the table as if she were clearing the dishes off of it. “You don’t exist. He barely mentioned Mary. He said he was shocked and had no idea what she was involved in. It sounded like something from a press release, honestly.”
“Did you believe him?” Jack asked. “If anyone would know about zero-day hacks and how valuable they were, it would be Thacker.”
“You know, I did believe him. It was the oddest thing. He was completely uninterested in Mary. I could hear it in his tone. He only wanted to know about the blue butterfly painting. When I mentioned that, it was like the life came back into his voice.”
“So Mary won’t be able to count on him for an elaborate legal defense?”
“It doesn’t sound like it. I think she’s on her own. He couldn’t get off the topic of his wife fast enough, and then he only wanted to talk about the painting. He was thrilled to know that it was fine. He pulled some strings so that I can leave with it tomorrow. Anyway, the painting seems to matter much more to him than what happened with Mary.”
“I guess collecting does become an obsession with some people,” Jack said. “At least, you might have him for a future client since he wasn’t wrapped up in cybercrime.”
“I’m not sure I want to work with someone who sent me a piece of art from his collection to test me before he hired me.”
Jack pointed his glass at Zoe. “A copy. I’m sure he would emphasize it was a copy.”
Zoe laughed. “Yes, he would. I guess I’ll worry about that, if it happens.”
“He is a multi-millionaire.”
“But an eccentric one,” Zoe countered.
“I think that’s the only kind,” Jack said.
Zoe put down her glass suddenly. “Oh, and even better news. He’s thrilled with the idea of owning a big blue butterfly with a mutation.”
Jack paused, the glass poised at his lips. “You mean you finally got to talk to him about it?”
“Yes, finally! Kaz had only told him it was a blue morpho. Once I explained why it was unique…that was it. He just wanted it. So our family budget will stay in the black.”
“That’s great news. And now you have another name for your list of art dealers.”
“LeBlanc may be on my list, but he won’t be on the top of it. I don’t trust him.” Zoe sighed. “But I should never say never.”
“Especially in your line of work. A dealer who drifts into the shady side of things is probably someone you need to know.”
“Sad, but true.”
The other tables were filling with people. A pianist sat down at a small upright and ran his fingers over the keys with a flourish. Zoe raised her voice over the music. “Thacker is planning a huge press event for the announcement of the discovery of a lost Martin Johnson Heade painting. Before we got off the phone, he was already talking about possibilities for funding a special exhibit that would display the blue morpho along with the paintings and some other specimens from his vintage butterfly collection.”
Jack reached for her hand across the table. “I think you’re on your way.”
“On my way?”
“To being considered an art recovery specialist in your own right, not just somebody who works for Harrington.”
Zoe smiled. “It’s a first step. Thacker wants me to be there—at the press conference—but I think I’ll follow Harrington’s example of staying in the background. I only need my name out there associated with the recovery, not my picture. Was that my phone? It’s so loud in here…yes, it was.” Zoe dug her phone out of her messenger bag. “It’s a text from Evelyn. You remember her, right? Gallery owner. I bet she heard the news about the recovery of the blue butterfly painting…No, it’s something else…” Zoe read aloud, “The young Giacometti is back.” She frowned. “Young Giacometti? What does she mean—oh!”
Jack said, “I’m confused.”
“So was I for a second. Remember the paintings that went missing from the Westoll Museum? Evelyn at Salt Grass Gallery said a guy came in her gallery and seemed to be hinting around to see if she was open to taking shady paintings. He mentioned Canaletto. One of the pieces stolen was by Canaletto. Evelyn thought maybe the guy had something to do with the robbery. She said he looked like a young Giacometti—an artist—but there wasn’t anything on the surveillance tapes. She said she would be on the lookout for him.” Zoe tapped her phone. “This means she’s seen him again.” Zoe went back to the text and continued reading then looked up. “And she managed to get a picture. She’ll send it to me as soon as she gets it from the gallery
’s security footage.”
Jack raised his glass to her. “Sounds like another case.”
“Yes, it does.” Zoe clinked her glass against his. “Too bad I can’t do anything about it now. I have to get the blue butterfly painting back to Thacker, but then…” Zoe sent Evelyn a quick text saying that she would be back in Dallas in a few days.
Jack looked at his watch. “I think we better move on.”
“That’s right. We have a Flamenco performance to see and several more tapas bars to check out.”
“And then I thought we might visit the Plaza de Cibeles,” Jack said. “I’ve heard it’s spectacular at night.”
“I’ve heard that too. We should definitely do it.”
Epilogue
Six months later
Kaz Volk twisted the key and opened his mail box. It had been a long day at the web design company where he worked. The interior decorator thought her new website design didn’t have enough zazz. Zazz wasn’t even a word. How could you design something that didn’t have a definition? At least he had his part-time job at the community college teaching intro to programming.
He tossed the jumble of grocery flyers on top of the pizza box and closed the mailbox. As he climbed the steps to his apartment the sheaf of mail slid sideways, and a few pieces landed on the stairs.
A glossy postcard of a sculpture landed face-up. Kaz slowly reached for it. It captured he Christ the Redeemer sculpture, arms spread wide, poised over Rio and the blue waters below.
Kaz flipped the card over.
Machu Picchu is next. You should come out sometime.
Kaz shook his head. “Not on your life, buddy,” he murmured as he trotted up the stairs.
The Story Behind the Story
And now to sort truth from imagination…
The inspiration for the painting of the blue butterfly for this story came from a real painting. Martin Johnson Heade painted a single blue morpho butterfly sometime around 1864-1865 as part of his Gems of Brazil series. A painting of a blue butterfly with a hummingbird does not exist—at least, that we know of. As Thacker stated in the story, Heade was prolific. At the end of his career he moved to St. Augustine, Florida. Tourists bought his landscape and still life paintings and dispersed them all over the country and the world. Recently, his artwork has been rediscovered, and several of his “lost” paintings have been identified and later sold at auction for over a million dollars…so keep an eye out!