CHAPTER 63

Zolin opened a window and leaned out to survey the street below.

“I don’t see a truck. Has Professor Kidd brought the artwork? If I don’t see some new paintings soon, I’m going to start weeping again!”

“Relax, Vik,” said Uncle Timothy, joining Zolin at the window. “Most likely he parked around back to avoid drawing too much unwanted attention. He’ll use the service entrance.”

“No, Timothy,” said Dad, striding into the room. “As you might recall, I always prefer the front door.”

“Dad!” we all cried. But Zolin’s goons wouldn’t let us go to him.

“What?” said Zolin. “How did you enter my apartment building without the doormen downstairs alerting me?”

Dad shrugged. “It seems they all fell asleep ten seconds after I waltzed into the lobby.”

Tranquilizer darts!

Did I ever tell you guys how good Dad is with a blowgun?

“Well played, Thomas,” said Uncle Timothy, who, once upon a time, was Dad’s handler at the CIA. “You always were one of my best undercover operatives.”

“Did you bring me my paintings?” said Zolin. “I want to add them to the four I stole from the Hermitage Museum. My oil-burning furnace needs a lot of oil paintings for fuel.”

“Ah,” said Dad, acting impressed, “so you were the mastermind behind the theft of the missing da Vinci, Caravaggio, Giorgione, and Rembrandt paintings.”

“Yes! It was simple, really. Those so-called guards in the gallery? Their loyalty can be easily purchased for a few rubles. Although that one lady was tough. She demanded euros because she wanted to buy a new 3-D television set in Germany. She likes Masha and the Bear. But enough bragging about my criminal genius. Where are the paintings the Enlightened Ones were hoarding that you tracked down?”

Dad grinned. “Not so fast, Mr. Zolin. First, you show me my money. Then I’ll show you the paintings.”

“W-w-what?” whimpered Zolin.

“It’s how we always do things, Vik,” explained Uncle Timothy. “Makes for a better exchange if both sides can see what they came for before they give up what they brought.”

“Fine,” said Zolin. “I can write you a check or wire the funds into your account.”

“Thanks but no thanks,” said Dad. “This is to be a cash-only transaction.”

“No paper trail,” said Uncle Timothy. “Smart, Thomas. Smart.”

“Thank you, Timothy.” Dad coolly eyed the six armed goons ringing the room. “Good afternoon, gentlemen. Nice of all six of you to join us. If you don’t mind, I have been away from my family for far too long. I’d like a moment to properly greet my wife and children.”

“Go ahead,” said Zolin, giving us a royal flick of his wrist. “You have my permission. But hurry up. My furnace grows cold.”

Dad flung open his arms at the center of the room. “Okay, guys. Group hug.”

Mom quickly ushered us over to him and we all hugged it out.

And that’s when Dad shouted, “Duck! Now!”