by Estelle Ryan
Francine snorted and rolled her eyes. “Oh, my naïve handsome cop. Yes, we have enough money.”
Manny’s eyes narrowed and he turned to Francine. “Firstly, I’m not a cop. And secondly, is all this money you’re so proud of legal?”
Francine ran her manicured nail down his sleeve. “I’ll tell you later tonight, after we—”
“Supermodel!” Manny leaned away from her, his frown deepening. “Is that money legal?”
“Of course it is, Millard.” Colin handed the serving dish to Phillip. “Now shut up and enjoy Vin’s food.”
Francine took a bite and gave an extravagant shudder. “Oh, this is horrible. It needs rosemary. Lots and lots of rosemary.”
The next twenty minutes were chaotic. Vinnie and Francine quarrelled non-stop about spices, cooking temperatures, cuisines and everything else. Phillip, Roxy and Manny discussed Pink’s recovery and treatments. Nikki and Colin talked about the complex process of returning all the Renaissance paintings we’d recovered.
Russian Consul General Nikolai Guskov had disappeared. Julien hinted that he’d been in contact with French intelligence services and that France might know where he was, but Julien had refused to give any details. I hoped Nikolai and his family were safe.
I’d been surprised to learn that Nikolai’s assistant Roman had taken over the Unity Through Art project. He’d shown unexpected enthusiasm for making sure all the exhibitions that had been organised were going to take place.
Emad was still in custody of the French authorities, but would soon move to Wyoming. His most powerful weapon had been all the recordings of Fradkov he had. Not only that, he also had memorised a list of people Fradkov had blackmailed, killed and controlled. Interpol valued such information so highly that it had pressured France into giving Emad what he wanted as soon as they had those lists. Alain had told Phillip that Emad spent twelve hours a day writing down everything he knew.
It had been most interesting to learn that Emad had known that Fradkov was not only blackmailing General Sokolov, but he had also built an entire case against him. Fradkov had opened an offshore account in General Sokolov’s name from which he’d made transfers to and received money from numerous criminals.
The biggest transfer had been to an estate agent for a property in Malta. The most impressive feature of that mansion was the art gallery that could host at least three hundred works of art. Fradkov had created connections between the general and the hijackers so it looked like the heist had been arranged by the aging military man. Apparently, Fradkov had told Emad he was going to make sure General Sokolov took the fall if he didn’t receive the Siberian piece of land.
The conversations shifted a few times and I spent most of the time listening. It gave me pleasure to see the people I cared about relaxed. The days following Otto’s assassination in the restaurant had been trying for everyone. At least Fradkov and the danger he’d posed to everyone on my team and to global peace was no longer a threat. I wondered if we had to worry about the assassin. He had still not been identified or captured.
“And Otto’s two girls are the cutest.” Francine picked up her tablet and started swiping. She never went anywhere with at least two of her devices. She tilted the screen to show Roxy. “See? I got these pics from their mother’s Facebook account. This is Jordyn and this one is Grace. Cute, right?”
It had taken Francine five days to locate her hacker colleague Joe Pasquier. She’d intimidated him into giving her access to Otto’s finances and had transferred everything to his ex-wife. None of it had been done legally. Manny had been furious and proud.
“Let’s take this party to the sofas.” Vinnie got up and reached for his plate. “Roxy and I will clear the table and bring the desserts.”
“Ooh, dessert.” Nikki jumped up and gathered a few plates. “I’ll help clear the table. I need something sweet.”
“What excuse is she using now?” Phillip stopped at the sofa and gently touched Eric’s cheek before he sat down on the opposite sofa. “She’s not eating for two anymore.”
“I have to keep my energy up,” Nikki called from the kitchen. “It’s hard work being a mommy.”
Nikki had told me last night she was planning to return to her yoga classes this coming week. She pretended to indulge a lot, but was careful with her diet. A few times I had observed her staring at her reflection in the mirror.
“What happened to Amélie?” Phillip watched Daniel bring a chair from the dining room table and sit down. “I exchanged only a few words with her, but she made a good impression.”
“She’s in Minsk. The lectures she was supposed to give at the symposium were pushed back. She’s speaking there this week as well as at two universities.” Daniel got up to give Vinnie more space to bring in the tray of coffee mugs. Roxy followed with a large chocolate cake, small plates and forks on another tray.
“Justine sent this cake.” Roxy put her tray next to Vinnie’s and straightened. “She came by the hospital this afternoon. Alexis has chosen a university and is doing well. She’s also in therapy. Justine looked tired but happy.”
I’d received seven emails from Justine thanking me for the role I’d played in keeping her granddaughter safe. I hadn’t responded until Vinnie insisted that Justine thought I’d been kidnapped. I’d sent her a one-sentence email wishing her and Alexis well.
Daniel sat down and watched as Vinnie cut the cake and put a piece on a plate Roxy was holding. “At least the peace deal went through.”
“I read about that in the news.” Phillip smiled and accepted the plate from Roxy. “This is a remarkable move, especially with the upheaval in global politics the last year. After Russia and China voted against the UN’s bid for a ceasefire in Syria, I was surprised that Russia signed this agreement.”
I wasn’t surprised. Isabelle had invited Francine, Roxy and me for a private lunch last week at the presidential residence. One of the topics we’d discussed was the hard work that had gone into making that agreement happen. There had been many compromises and negotiations, but it had been Fradkov’s death and President Goddard’s acknowledgment that Russia had not been complicit in any of the events leading up to the Zénith confrontation that had convinced Russia to sign the agreement.
Isabelle had been greatly entertained by Francine’s conspiracy theories and Roxy’s bubbly sense of humour. Like now, I’d also been more withdrawn than usual. Fradkov’s words continually came back to challenge me.
Yesterday, I had started research for an academic paper. I was excited about the topic and hoped the books I’d ordered would be delivered tomorrow. I had done a lot of introspection to ensure my decisions were not to prove anything to the now-deceased Fradkov. His arguments had merely been the catalyst. I wanted to write this paper.
I looked at the baby sleeping next to me on the sofa and made up my mind. This was something else I wanted to do. But this was much harder.
Conversation around me stilled as I twisted and gently pushed my hands under the soft blanket. I had bought it for the only reason that the texture didn’t aggravate my senses.
Eric jostled a little as his warm weight rested in the palms of my hands. He was so small. I lifted him and was surprised at how light he was. Just like Nikki did every day and Colin had done earlier, I settled him in the crook of my arm and stared at him.
All the books I had read had been written by neurotypical people. Most of them had talked about the wonder of holding a baby and the warm emotions flooding your being as you looked down at the little being.
I felt none of it. What I did experience was an amazement at biology and evolution. And fear. Paralysing fear. That was the emotion that flooded my being. Fear that I would do or say something that would harm this little boy. Fear of the threat that the changes in society and social media posed to his emotional wellbeing. Fear that...
“Jenny?” Colin put his arm around me and pulled me against him. “Are you okay?”
I was keening. I cleared my throat and
nodded once. I didn’t look away from Eric. “Take him.”
Nikki sat down next to me and took Eric with the ease of a mother who’d had many children. “Doc G held you, my little Gollum. Now you gotta watch out. Next stop is hugville.”
I leaned away from Nikki, deeper into Colin’s embrace. I didn’t want to get involved in another inane discussion. Everyone laughed and the room filled with the sound of light chatter.
I was relieved. I had faced another fear and held Eric. It hadn’t been easy, but I was determined to try again. Maybe next time my autistic mind wouldn’t be overwhelmed by his warm weight and his distinctive scent. Colin tightened his arm around me in a strong one-armed hug. I rested against him for three seconds, then I straightened.
It was time for me to make the next decision. Already I had taken the step to develop my academic career. And I had held Eric.
I looked at the people in the room and again thought about how wrong Fradkov had been. Not all emotional demands and distractions were negative. They could enrich one’s life. They could give one enough strength to take steps that had previously caused paralysing fear.
I waited until there was a lull in the conversation. “I want to go on holiday. Abroad.”
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Look at the paintings from this book (also with the Fibonacci spiral fitted over a few) and read more about hacking planes, Uccello and the Fibonacci spiral at:
http://estelleryan.com/the-uccello-connection.html
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Other books in the Genevieve Lenard Series:
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Book 1: The Gauguin Connection
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Book 2: The Dante Connection
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Book 3: The Braque Connection
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Book 4: The Flinck Connection
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Book 5: The Courbet Connection
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Book 6: The Pucelle Connection
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Book 7: The Léger Connection
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Book 8: The Morisot Connection
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Book 9: The Vecellio Connection
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For more books in this series, go to http://estelleryan.com/books.html
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