At quarter to one, Rose called Jack to say that the French had fulfilled their judicial requirements for the wiretap and gave him a reminder to keep Roche on the line for as long as possible while they traced the call.
“Did they give you any more info on the Ringmaster or Roche that could help me out?” Jack asked.
“No, what you have is what there is,” Rose replied. “Although I did find out that the murder weapon was a .32 Beretta.”
“Same thing Anton shot Dempsey with. Not overly noisy, and small enough to conceal.”
“Maybe a trace of the gun will give them something.”
“I wouldn’t hold my breath. Probably stolen during one of their robberies.”
“What’s your plan on dealing with Roche when he calls?”
“I’m going to focus on the painting,” Jack replied, “but bring up the passports as a side issue. I’m hoping they’ll want to negotiate on the painting, but if they don’t, I’ll use the passport angle. If I get the feeling they don’t want to meet me in the future, I’ll emphasize that I’m a specialized business consultant and see if I can convince them to hire me. After what’s happened, they may want to use my services.”
“You could tell them that you’d do a better job than Big Joe Investigations,” Rose suggested.
“I don’t want them to know that I know about Big Joe. If they do bring me on board, they may use him to check me out. If they put me under surveillance, it’ll be a good opportunity to enhance my cover story.”
“Gotcha. Good luck. We’ll be listening.”
“Hope the French don’t blow it,” Jack said.
* * *
At one o’clock, Roche called Jack. “We are happy to let you take everything you found for collateral except —”
“Except the painting,” Jack interjected. He was sitting at the kitchen table.
“Uh, yes … and my men will buy the other items back from you over the next week or two at a price I’m sure you will agree is generous.”
“Are you not interested in what happened to Klaus when he got home?”
“Oh, uh, yes. I had forgotten about him,” Roche admitted.
They couldn’t care less if he’s alive or dead. The painting is their top priority. “Well, to let you know, he’s resting in the same circumstance as Anton and Bojan.”
“I see. That’s fine.” Roche was dismissive. “About our offer, I am sure you will be pleased with the amount we are willing to pay for —”
“Actually, I’m not interested in receiving any money from you,” said Jack.
“You’re not?”
“I told you I’m an art collector. I’ve since examined the painting carefully and can hardly believe my eyes.”
“It is a good replica.”
“Replica?” Jack chuckled. “I believe it’s an original. In fact, I have never even seen a copy of it before … which, for me, makes it more precious. I will be keeping it.” He kept his tone matter of fact.
“No!” blurted Roche. “You can’t do that!”
“You are hardly in a position to tell me what I can or cannot do.”
“Yes, of course, but …”
“But what?” prodded Jack.
“For you the painting is a piece of art, but, uh, for a close friend of mine it has great emotional value. You will be paid handsomely for it.”
Emotional value? A painting of a sad clown who’s considered a fool and has lost his love? I don’t see the Ringmaster thinking of himself as a fool … or has he lost someone he loves?
Jack took a deep breath. Time to lay it on thick … and hope it works. “It’s as if a special angel guided it to my hand,” he said wistfully. “It was meant for me. It’s my destiny to have it.”
“Your destiny?” Roche sounded confused.
“Yes. Do you know I have another painting of Pierrot in my collection?”
“You do?” asked Roche. Jack could hear panic in his voice.
“It is only a copy, of course,” continued Jack. “Unlike this one. It is also the only copy I have, as the rest of my collection are originals. Do you know why that is?”
“Uh, no.”
“Pierrot grips my heart with a passion you could never understand. I lost someone. Someone who, like Pierrot, was naive and too trusting of the world. Perhaps, like Pierrot, even considered by some to be a fool. But I loved her. There will never be another … but it is as if she comes alive every time I look at Pierrot.”
* * *
Roche watched the Ringmaster, who was sitting close enough to overhear, recoil in shock. They have experienced an identical tragedy. Fate was playing a cruel trick by bringing them together, both with a blind passion to own the same painting. “Mon Dieu,” he muttered.
“What was that?” asked Jack. “Did you say ‘my God’?”
“I … I, uh,” Roche stammered, “understand that you like the painting, but I am willing to pay you —”
“Like? Mr. Roche, you have no idea what love is, do you? You cannot put a price on it.” Jack sounded scornful.
“I am sorry to disappoint you, but I believe what you have is only a forgery, albeit a very good one.”
“Good, then I am sure you do not mind my taking it.”
Roche paused, uncertain what to say as his panic rose.
“At a loss for words?” Jack said, his voice dripping with contempt. “You are not a very accomplished liar, so don’t insult my intelligence by trying it. Besides, do you really think I would concede to letting this painting hang amongst some gaudy collection the likes of which a drug trafficker like you would own? Likely placed with a grouping of velvet paintings of naked women?”
“My friend is not a drug dealer,” Roche said lamely.
Jack continued as if he hadn’t heard. “I’ve often been hired by the likes of you to do consulting work. Sure, I admit that some of my clients live in fabulous mansions. Maybe you do, too, but I’ve never met any who had a real appreciation of fine art. For them it is only a facade of civilization. A way to impress people. For me, my paintings are for my eyes only. I will not have strangers cast their eyes on and make uncultured comments about what I treasure.”
Roche felt the tap on his wristwatch and nodded to the Ringmaster. “I must get off this phone,” he said, “but please, I will call you back in —”
“There is some good news,” said Jack.
“There is?”
“I will leave the rest of the stuff for your men on one condition.”
Roche paused as he looked at the Ringmaster. “Are you there?” asked Jack.
“Uh, yes. What condition?”
“I found two passports made out to the same person. One never knows what the future holds. I plan to retire soon, perhaps even in your country.”
“You’re thinking of moving here?” Roche was truly surprised. Who was this man?
“Possibly,” Jack replied. “The French really do have an exquisite collection of art, although I think Italy rivals you in that regard. Do you go to the museums yourself?”
“No, but please, quickly, what is it you want? As a safety precaution, I need to hang up.”
“This will only take a second. I might find it useful to have a passport under a different name for my own use. How about we make a gentlemen’s agreement? I will leave everything except the painting and later you will provide me with my own passport.”
“Uh, I’m not sure what to say. I really should hang —”
“You would not need to contact me again,” Jack interrupted. “I could make arrangements with your brother to deliver it to me. Naturally, I have some concerns that when he and his two buddies are released they may act like idiots and continue their quest to kill me. Arrangements will have to be made to ensure that doesn’t happen, and any future interactions, such as the one where I provide your brother with a passport photo, can be done through a mail drop.”
“No, uh, please wait,” Roche replied as the Ringmaster whispered instructions.
“You do not wish to do that?” Jack asked.
“Yes, but …”
“But what?”
“We can discuss the passport with you at another time, but more than that, we may be interested in your consulting services.”
“My consulting services?” It’s was Jack’s turn to sound surprised. “If I thought you were genuine, I would consider it, but under the circumstances, what with trying to kill me, you must understand why I am skeptical about your sincerity.”
“We are sincere,” Roche said. “But please, I need to hang up and use one of the other phones you found.”
“One of the others?”
“Yes. Use the number five and I will call you back in one hour.”
“An hour? Why so long?”
“To ensure security for where I am,” Roche replied hastily.
“Glad to hear you are cautious. So am I.”
“Also, if you let me speak to my brother when I call back, I will instruct him to consider you a friend.”
“A friend! After he tried to kill me? And on your orders?”
“We thought you were a pimp.”
“Believe me, I’m not some parasitic pimp who lives off human flesh,” Jack said with disdain.
“We realize that now, which is why we would like to hire you. I will call you in one hour.”
* * *
Jack smiled grimly as he hung up and used his own phone to call Rose. “You heard?”
“Yes,” she replied.
“I’m not cutting these guys loose before the next call.” Jack was adamant.
“Take it easy,” Rose said. “After what I heard, you’ve got the extension.”
“Thanks … sorry.”
“Listening to your call, I never knew you could be so passionate about a painting!” No doubt Rose hoped to lighten the moment, relieve his stress a little.
“I’m passionate when it comes to murdered cops,” Jack said bluntly. “Roche was with someone. I bet it was the Ringmaster.”
“I agree. Hopefully the French were successful.”
“I doubt they will be. That’s why he wants to call me back in an hour. He’ll be switching locations. If they did trace the call, he’ll be gone before they get there.”
“Maybe, but it sounds to me like you played him well,” the staff-sergeant said. “They obviously want to maintain — Hold on, incoming call, let me put you on hold.”
Jack drummed his fingers on the kitchen table as he waited. He was pleased that Roche had brought up the idea to use him for consulting services. But how do I maintain credibility? They know I wouldn’t blindly walk into a trap.
* * *
Seconds later, Rose said, “They’ve traced the call. Your man is in Frankfurt, Germany. The coordinates put him at a place called the Steigenberger Airport Hotel.” She paused. “So. Your call. What do you want done?”
“Bet he’s already left to check into another hotel,” Jack said. “Frankfurt is a big city. Damn it, even if he stays around the airport, there’ll be lots of other hotels to choose from.” He clenched his fist in frustration, then took a breath and told Rose what he wanted her to do.