The Uccello Connection (Genevieve Lenard, #10)

by Estelle Ryan

  “Hit the light, Vin.” Pink was leaning against the far wall, next to a mirror that was fixed to the wall. He took two steps to the centre of the room and looked up. “I’m very curious to see what we have there.”

  Vinnie turned off the lights, but the room wasn’t completely dark. The soft yellow light from the street wasn’t enough to diminish the effects from the paint though. I gasped at the beauty and the craftsmanship that covered most of the ceiling.

  “This is Uccello’s The Battle of San Romano.” Colin’s tone held a reverence that reflected my response to what I was seeing. “And it’s an incredible facsimile.”

  But something wasn’t right. My subconscious had picked up on a nuance in the painting that was causing my heartrate to increase. I studied the many men on their horses, most of them covered in armour. The man on the white horse in the centre of the painting and the man to the right of him were the only ones not wearing full armour.

  “That’s not right.” Colin pointed at the top of the painting, close to the wall where Pink was standing. “In the original painting, those lances are pointed in different directions.”

  Colin was correct. All the men had lances that were pointing towards the same point. Even the two flags held by two of the horsemen pointed there. I followed the direction and gasped. They were all pointing to the mirror behind Pink.

  My chest contracted and breathing became almost impossible. My throat had tightened so much that I couldn’t make a sound, so I pointed. When no one reacted, I pointed with both hands and tried to utter a sound. A high-pitched keen filled the room.

  “What the hell, Doc?” Manny turned towards me, then looked at where I was pointing just as the mirror slid to the side. “Gun!”

  Colin grabbed me and dove to the floor. No sooner had he landed on top of me than the room exploded in gunfire. It sounded as if an entire army was opening fire on us. My mind struggled to comprehend what was happening and refused to obey Colin’s shouted demands to, “Move!”

  He grabbed my jacket and pulled me behind the sofa a moment before the floor by my feet shattered under automatic gunfire. I couldn’t move. I tried to focus on the angry shouting that was barely audible above the non-stop shooting. Where had the guns come from? How many guns were there? Why didn’t Edward’s team find them? How many more bullets did these weapons have?

  And who was pulling the triggers?

  Wood splinters flew across the apartment as the weapons moved around the whole space. I didn’t know if the sofa would protect us for much longer and wondered if I would see Nikki’s baby.

  The shooting stopped with the same suddenness as it had started. The silence was deafening. But it only lasted three seconds.

  “Sit rep!” Manny sounded close.

  “I’m good. Jenny? Are you okay?” Colin was sitting next to me, patting me as if looking for injuries. “Vin, we need light in here.”

  The lights were blinding, but it gave me something to focus on. I didn’t want to surrender to the blackness that was closing in on me. I inhaled deeply, kept the air in my lungs for three seconds and exhaled. “I think I’m unharmed.”

  “I don’t see any blood.” Colin’s hand was shaking when he took mine. “Vin? You okay?”

  “Alive.” Vinnie ran past us just as two of Pink’s team members entered the apartment. “Pink. Pink!”

  The unfamiliar panic in Vinnie’s voice caused adrenaline to flood my system. I got up and looked around me. The apartment looked like a warzone. The walls were riddled with holes, only a few places on the floor had not been shattered and the furniture was also wrecked.

  “Fuck!” Vinnie’s pained shout drew my attention to the far wall. He was kneeling next to a body lying prone on the floor. Pink. “Get a fucking ambulance now! He’s still alive.”

  Manny was already speaking into his smartphone. He was cradling his right arm, his dark blue coat preventing me from seeing any damage. As if in slow motion, I turned my attention back to Pink. His black uniform was shiny with blood, a dark red pool around his torso growing in size.

  “Don’t you fucking die, you motherfucker.” With one hand, Vinnie was pressing hard against a wound on the side of Pink’s neck. His other hand was pressing against Pink’s left thigh. “I need more hands here. He’s bleeding out.”

  The apartment filled with the rest of Daniel’s team, people flowing around us. I could only watch. It felt as if my muscles had locked into place and I would never be able to move again. I took comfort in still being able to feel Colin’s arm around my shoulders, holding me tightly against him. I couldn’t even ask if he was uninjured, only hoping that his easy movements indicated that he was well.

  Manny dropped to his knees next to Vinnie and pressed his one hand on Pink’s hip, the other on the inside of his left arm. “Medics are two minutes out.”

  “Come on, man.” Vinnie wiped his cheek against his shoulder. “Hold on. Help is coming.”

  “What the fuck happened?” Claudette stared at the open space the mirror had covered. “We’d cleared this place.”

  “Manny!” Francine ran into the room and staggered to a stop next to Pink. “No. No. Oh, God, please no.”

  The emotional pain on Francine’s face, the heartbroken look on Vinnie’s face when he pressed harder and shouted profanities at Pink and the tightness around Manny’s eyes and mouth became too much for me.

  I had never experienced the loss of someone close to me. First, it had been Daniel’s capture and subsequent disappearance. Now Pink. My mind couldn’t handle this.

  I sank to my knees and gave in to the safety of a shutdown.

  Chapter EIGHTEEN

  I jerked when Nikki took the cold mug from my hands and replaced it with a steaming cup of tea. I’d been sitting in the dark on my sofa and hadn’t even heard or seen her moving around the kitchen. I lifted the cup and smelled the camomile tea. “Thank you.”

  “Drink it.” She sat down next to me, her legs tucked under her, holding a mug in both hands. She was having hot chocolate again. “You didn’t even touch the other one.”

  “Hmm.” By the time I’d come out of my shutdown, Pink had already been transported to the hospital. He was still in surgery.

  Manny and Francine had joined half of the GIPN team at the hospital, while Vinnie and the others had stayed at the apartment. They’d been there to secure the property while the crime scene investigators collected evidence. Vinnie had insisted on staying in the apartment to make sure Colin and I were safe. It had taken me longer than usual just to gain enough control and focus so I could get up from the floor.

  The crime scene investigators had by then already processed most of the apartment and had been pleased when we left. The rest of Pink’s team had then gone to the hospital, not only to wait for him to come out of the operating theatre, but also for security. They were still there.

  Everyone had decided that it would be best for us to return home and try to get a few hours’ sleep before we continued our investigation. I had not been able to fall asleep at all. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the pool of blood surrounding Pink, the helplessness on Vinnie’s face and the trauma on Francine’s.

  I’d never been one to waste time trying to sleep when I knew it wasn’t going to happen. That was why I’d made tea in the hopes that some revelation would come to me if I sat quietly, mentally writing Mozart’s Symphony No. 8 in D major. It hadn’t worked.

  “Doc G?” Nikki bumped me with her shoulder. “I want to ask if you’re okay, but it’s such a stupid question under these circumstances. Um... are you... I don’t know what to ask. Maybe I should ask what you are feeling at the moment.”

  “Feeling?” It was almost impossible to separate the chaotic emotions nullifying the usual effect Mozart’s music had on my mind. It was this that had been preventing me from pursuing academic development in the last four years. “Too much.”

  “I know.” Her voice broke. “Pink is the coolest geek I’ve ever met. He has to make it. He just
has to.”

  “The doctors weren’t very optimistic when they examined him.” The loss of blood had been so extensive that they’d been amazed he hadn’t died at the scene. But it wasn’t that or the bullet that had gone straight through the trapezius muscle—closer to his shoulder than his neck—or the bullet in his thigh that had caused the pessimism.

  One of the seven bullets that had entered his body had lodged in his spine. It was one of his lower vertebrae and the doctors had told Manny that we should be prepared for this to be a life-altering injury. Manny hadn’t asked what that meant, but I knew. An injury to the lumbar nerves could result in loss of function of the hips and legs. Pink might never walk again.

  Manny’s injury had been a superficial flesh wound. I’d been with Colin in his SUV when Francine had phoned to tell us they were also on their way home. Manny had sounded annoyed when she’d gone into unnecessary detail about how handsome the young doctor was who’d treated Manny. He’d called that doctor a man-child. I’d been so relieved to hear him sound his normal self that I hadn’t confronted him about that phrase.

  Nikki shifted a bit closer to me, her body heat warming my side. She liked and often needed physical contact. I didn’t. Yet I didn’t find her presence distressing at the moment. Especially since she didn’t talk. I needed the quiet to try to filter through the maelstrom of emotions overwhelming me. If I were to be effective at analysing all the data we’d gathered so far, I needed to gain control over my emotions.

  We sat in silence for the next twenty minutes, sipping our beverages. With each minute, I felt my focus returning. And I desperately needed to have my focus, my control back. I needed to be able to look at everything that had taken place in the last four days with a high level of rationality and emotional distance.

  Piece by piece, I went over the events. Otto Coulaux’s assassination in the restaurant, all three paintings Emad had sent to Alain, the hidden messages in those paintings, Justine’s observations that Fradkov’s behaviour had changed over the last few months and the evidence I’d seen thereof. There was also the death of Aleksei Volyntsev, bringing radiation poisoning back into our case, Aleksei’s friendship with the Russian Consul General Nikolai Guskov, their friend Lev Markov, the threats issued to Roxy, the art exhibition, the hijacked plane that was supposed to transport the art, Daniel’s kidnapping as well as Amélie Didden’s.

  They all flowed together with the fake transfers we’d found in Daniel and Isabelle’s financials, the peace discussions between Russia and the EU, the art we’d found in Fradkov’s house and the shooting in his apartment.

  The crime scene investigators and the GIPN team had been quick to determine the guns had been placed in the wall compartment as a security measure. Apparently, there had been some countermeasure that prevented any detection device from picking up the traces of gunpowder as well as any electronic signals.

  The guns had been remote-controlled, which had led to a few conclusions. Manny and Vinnie were convinced that Fradkov had expected us and that he’d fitted two guns to swivel while the automatic setting meant the bullets had reached most of the flat. They were also convinced that Fradkov had been the one remotely pulling the trigger, causing Pink’s grave injuries. It was conjecture, but I silently agreed. Fradkov had known we would find that flat and had been waiting for us.

  There was something about the flat and the incident that truly bothered me. I sighed deeply. There were many things about this case that bothered me. The ease and convenience of finding and getting access to Fradkov’s flat was only one of them. And everything was somehow connected.

  Deep in my subconscious the connection was already made, but I simply couldn’t reach it. Not yet. I needed more time, but I also needed more data. More than that, I needed Pink to survive the surgery and I needed Daniel to be back in Strasbourg. I sighed again at the unwelcome return of emotions.

  “Having a pyjama party?” Vinnie asked softly from the kitchen. Nikki had left on one sunken light, which gave off just enough light to find one’s way. Vinnie looked at my mug. “Want more of what you’re having?”

  “I’ll have coffee.” I looked at Nikki to hear her answer, but she was sleeping. She’d dropped her head against my shoulder and her mouth was slightly agape. Both hands rested lightly on her large belly and I wondered how she could sleep in this position. I lifted my shoulder. “Nikki.”

  “Leave her, Jen-girl. Another five minutes of sleep will do her good. We all need as much as we can get.”

  “But she’s on my shoulder.” And it wasn’t bothering me as much as I expected. I knew some people became desensitised with enough exposure to the very thing causing them distress. Was this the case or could it be that my mind was too consumed with this case to register such discomfort?

  Vinnie snorted and started making coffee. I watched as my large friend moved around the kitchen. The light was not strong enough to see all his nonverbal cues, but he was broadcasting his deep concern so strongly, it was impossible to miss. He was wearing sweatpants and a white tank top that fit snugly against his muscular torso. I could clearly see the tightness in his neck muscles and how it affected his normal fluid movements.

  He brought our coffee and sat on the other sofa, facing me. “Couldn’t sleep?”

  I shook my head.

  “Me neither.” He took a sip of his coffee and settled deeper in the sofa. “This is so fucked up, Jen-girl. Not knowing where Daniel is and now Pink fighting for his life is killing me.”

  I gasped. “Don’t use that expression.”

  “Huh?” He blinked. “Oh. Yes. Sorry.” He nodded towards Nikki. “How long has she been there?”

  “Thirty minutes or so. I didn’t notice when she fell asleep.”

  His smile was tender. “She’s so uncomfortable at the moment, it’s hard for her to sleep. She says Eric is pushing on every organ no matter how she sits or lies.”

  It was impossible for me to imagine what it would be like to have a little human being in my home. The fear settling around my heart was instant and intense. A baby was such a huge responsibility, even though Nikki’s fitness to be a mother was indisputable. She was caring, thoughtful and reliable. Even if she was messy.

  Eric’s father Martin had visited once a week since Nikki had decided to keep the baby. He had shown an uncommon sense of responsibility for a twenty-year-old man. He had a playful nature and a constant, genuine smile, yet had sat us down one evening to discuss his, Nikki’s and the baby’s futures.

  He had a solid plan to build his career and be a part of Eric’s life without disrupting the baby’s routine. Both Nikki and Martin had reiterated that they were definitely not interested in being romantically involved, but wanted their friendship to be a strong foundation and example for Eric. I respected that. Martin had also deferred to each of Nikki’s suggestions and requests. Everyone liked him.

  I envied the neurotypical excitement everyone experienced about Eric’s arrival. For me, he presented yet another source of overstimulation. And he wasn’t even here yet.

  “Where’s Colin?” Vinnie glanced at our closed bedroom door. “Sleeping?”

  “Yes, although I don’t know how well. When I left the room, he was very restless.”

  “Having a party without me?” Roxy walked to the sofa and cuddled next to Vinnie, almost sitting on his lap. Even after seeing her countless times in her pyjamas, I still couldn’t help but stare. No matter how many times she tried to explain it to me, I simply couldn’t understand how an adult could feel comfortable in a fleecy one-piece suit. She’d called it a onesie. The impracticality of such a garment was staggering. She’d merely laughed and said she’d bought it because of the cute pink sheep floating on clouds. I didn’t understand it.

  “Want some hot chocolate?”

  “No, thanks, snookums.” She pushed a few wayward curls behind her ear. “I’ll have some coffee in a minute. Just wanna snuggle up to you for a while.”

  He kissed the top of her head and look
ed at me. “It’s almost five and too early for breakfast, but I feel like I should be cooking some comfort food for us. What do you want, Jen-girl?”

  “Chocolate-banana pancake casserole.” Nikki didn’t even open her eyes or move. “And make enough. I need comfort for two.”

  I lifted my shoulder and pushed until she sat up. “I thought you were sleeping.”

  “I was.” She rolled her neck and winced. “Until the big punk mentioned food.”

  Roxy laughed. “Oh, to have the metabolism of a twenty-year-old.”

  “Twenty-one, I’ll have you know.” Nikki straightened her legs and wiggled her toes. “Vin, have you heard anything about Pink?”

  “I spoke to Claudette just before I came in. She said the doctors are still working on Pink. They’ve repaired the arterial damage as well as the other internal damage and are now trying to remove the bullet by his spine.”

  “Oh, God.” Nikki hugged her belly. “He must live. He must.”

  “Doctor Dupont is the best when it comes to spinal trauma surgery.” Roxy played with Vinnie’s fingers. “I’m not a surgeon, yet I’ve heard of him. When other doctors talk about him, it’s with great respect and admiration. Pink will make it.”

  But if he survived, what would his quality of life be? I didn’t ask the question though. Uttering those words could possibly send me into another shutdown. I wanted to focus on things I could control. Like data analysis.

  Roxy didn’t give me much chance to continue going through everything I’d learned. She was in a chatty mood. She and Nikki were discussing a recent film that had been released and was rumoured to be a strong contender for the best film Oscar.

  Their light-hearted discussion was a pleasant break from the heaviness of my thoughts. Vinnie got up and, after declaring that he had all the ingredients, started making the casserole Nikki had requested. A few minutes later, my bedroom door opened and Colin came out. He rubbed a hand over his eyes and looked around the open living space. “Good morning.”