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Cal seemed startled by the question, proof he’d been lost in thought. “What?”
“What’s the deal with the kid?”
Cal shook his head, still frowning. “His name is Dimitri. I think he’s the guy Amanda said went missing in Amsterdam months ago.”
“Shit.” Jack squeezed my hand. “What does Dasselaar want with him?”
“Before you got there, he made the kid show me that the Renoir was real. He can make his skin change to match the canvas if it’s real. If it’s not, the colors are muddy. Dasselaar has one of Amanda’s forgeries, and he’s using it to show how the kid’s skill is affected by a fake.”
“I don’t like that there are civilians involved in this.”
“Neither do I. It’s taking every ounce of my admittedly limited self-control not to run back in there and haul him out to keep him safe from Dasselaar. If it wouldn’t completely blow our cover I might do it. I feel like Dimitri is important, but I don’t know why I feel that way.”
“How about because Dasselaar is an epic douchebag who is clearly using the kid, and you with your big heart want to rescue him?”
Normally, Cal would have told me to fuck off after a comment like that, but the furrow between his brows just got deeper. “Yeah, maybe, but when I first walked into the high roller’s room, Dasselaar was threatening him, and it set me on edge.” He rolled his shoulders. “I can’t explain it.”
“What do you mean Dasselaar threatened him?”
“I only caught the end, but Dasselaar was all ‘you do as I say or else.’”
“Hmm. I guess we find out everything we can about Dimitri and what Dasselaar has on him.”
“We have to.”
“I’m liking this less and less.”
“Same.”
“And even if Dasselaar doesn’t haveThe Evolution of Man, he’s shady as shit.” Cal stopped and dropped my hand, whipping his phone out of his pocket and looking around. “That reminds me, I need to call Quin. I would bet any money that Renoir he showed us is hot. Quin will know for sure. He could tell youevery famous painting that’s ever been stolen and its last known whereabouts.”
“I agree the Renoir is probably on his list. Make the call.” I followed Cal to a bench at the edge of a small park that was on our way back to the hotel and sat while my mate paced near a fountain, his phone held to his ear. While Cal talked to his brother, I scrolled through Dasselaar’s computer from my phone. I’d been able to put an audio bug in his office and connect a device that mirrored anything he did on his computer to a program on my phone.
A few minutes later, Cal dropped onto the bench next to me. “As we suspected, the Renoir Dasselaar showed us was stolen from a private collection in Texas and never recovered. According to Quin, the painting has never come up for sale through either legit or black-market channels. He’s worried about what it means that Dasselaar is showing it off to private clients at his gallery.”
“Well, that makes two of us.”
“Three.” Cal rubbed a hand over his face, stroking down his short beard. “So what’s our next move?”
“We need to circle back to the gallery and check out the next block. I had just enough time to install an audio bug and a remote-access port on the computer in the gallery office, and it looks like Dasselaar has shipments coming in after hours yesterday, tonight, and tomorrow night. My guess is he’s bringing in all the art he’s going to be auctioning at his gala.”
“Makes sense. The gala is in a little over a week, according to the invitation Quin has.”
“The timing is too perfect. Has your grandmother ever been invited to one of Dasselaar’s events before?”
“I don’t know. Felix and Julius tried to reach her on the cruise ship but weren’t successful. What doesn’t make sense isthe fact that it was sent to Quin’s gallery and not to her office at the university or to her house in Alaska or the estate in Seattle.”
“That’s true. But we only know for sure that an invitation was sent to the gallery and not to the estate. There could be one waiting for her at the university or at her house in Alaska. Regardless, Dasselaar wanted to make sure Juno Hunter was at the gala. The question is why?”
“Exactly. Guess we’d better try to figure that out.” Cal stood and held out his hand. “Let’s go see if we can find a vantage point.”
For the next two nights, Cal and I perched on the top of a bicycle shop on the block behind Dasselaar’s building. It had the best view of the gallery’s rear entrance, and decorative cornice work made it easy to conceal ourselves.
Cal was watching the rear door of the gallery through a sniper scope. Like last night, the two large men dressed in black we’d noticed the night we were eating cheese and watching the gallery flanked the entrance. When the shipments were over for the night, they made sure the gallery was secure and left, each turning in opposite directions. We’d followed them, and both had gotten into their nondescript black cars and sped into the night. “There should be just one last delivery.”
A glance at my watch told me it was just after three o’clock in the morning. With some remote help from Julius and Felix, I’d been able to get into Dasselaar’s phone. All the shipments had come in on generic trucks, about five to ten pieces at a time, all scheduled to arrive spread out between midnight and four in the morning. Everything had been wrapped to art industry standardor moved in a shipping container or wooden crate, so there had been no way to know exactly what was being brought in.
After Dasselaar had tried to sell Cal the Renoir we now knew was stolen, it made sense that the art that had been delivered over the past three nights was also stolen. The question still remained ifThe Evolution of Manwas among the pieces, but we’d need to get into the gallery in order to figure that out.
