Page 34 of Vow Of Fire

“Here’s the payment from the Russian source.”

I scanned the transactions, settling on the one foreign payment. I’d noticed it, obviously. It was too large an amount not to, but I’d just assumed it was an error. A simple accounting mishap.

“It’s a mistake,” I explained. “It’s a reserve on a painting. If you look at the business account, you’ll see the balance.”

He frowned and picked up another bunch of papers. I was surprised he’d bothered to print them all out. Didn’t he believe in digital copies, or tablets?

“Show me.”

I took it from him and studied the figures until I found the one I was looking for. Vincent was my accountant, but I tried to keep abreast of the earnings and expenditure on a month-to-month basis for strategic reasons.

“Here,” I said, pointing to it.

His brow creased. “This is what Malakov paid for the painting?”

“I don’t know that it was Malakov,” I said. “I mean, it’s an intermediary. A foreign buyer. Sergei usually uses Mikhail, but I guess he could have used someone else.”

I arched an eyebrow at him. “Again, Mikhail could confirm.”

He didn’t reply.

“Why have you highlighted these?” I asked, nodding to the line items further down the transaction list.

“These are the questionable ones,” he replied.

I bristled. Nothing in my business was “questionable”.

“Allow me,” I said tartly, snatching the print-out from his hands.

He snorted, and leaned back on the couch, watching me in that unnerving way of his.

“That’s the shipping and customs fee for Echo Study No. 4 by Sienna Markell,” I replied, keeping my voice even. “She’s a contemporary abstract artist out of LA. Her pieces are handled through a specialist art freight company. They’re large-scale, high-value, which requires custom crating.”

“Like Mateo’s?” he asked.

I nodded, surprised he remembered the Colombian artist’s name.

He pointed to the next highlighted item. “What about that one?”

“That’s a framing expense,” I said. “We stage the paintings before every exhibition. That means custom frames, museum glass, archival mounts. The presentation sells the piece.”

I could tell from his expression that he wasn’t interested in the finer details. His eyes were already on the next row.

“That one?”

“That’s a conservation retainer for Lakeshore Stillness, the early Neumann Rask piece. It’s old pigment on raw linen, and the canvas is delicate. We have to bring in a conservator quarterly to make sure it’s stable before showing.”

He blinked. “You pay someone just to look at it?”

“To preserve a seven-figure investment? Yes.” I paused, lifting my eyes to his. “It’s standard procedure, especially with older works.”

He flipped to the next page, not bothering to hide his skepticism. “And this?”

“That’s a fair submission fee for Vantage Art Week in Miami. We had to submit digital mockups, portfolio materials, insurance coverage. It’s all part of applying to exhibit.”

He studied my face, then nodded.

“None of that is ‘questionable,’” I said, nodding to the sheet in my hand. “It’s normal stuff. Normal for my world, anyway.”