Thief of Hearts
Page 39
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“About the robbery. If I’m honest, I’m quite eager to poke some holes in this plan of the Duke’s. In my opinion the best schemes are plotted when several heads knock together.”
Stu rubbed his thumb across his lips, an action I founded strangely mesmerising. So much so that I almost spilled the milk I held, catching myself just in time.
“You sure you won’t start going hysterical on me again? Last night was dramatic enough,” said Stu, eyes wary.
“I promise. I might not like it but I’ve made my peace with the situation. For better or worse, we’re all in this for the long haul.”
Stu eyed him a moment as I set Alfie’s cup down in front of him then carried the other over to Stu. Our fingers brushed when he took it, reminding me of how good it felt when he’d rubbed my back so soothingly. And yes, how good it felt when he’d kissed me at my parents’ house.
“The Duke’s getting out in a month. That’s why he needs the money. He plans on hotfooting it over to the Seychelles where he can spend his days in the sun and his nights bedding all the East African beauties he can get his hands on.”
“How delightfully extravagant and predictable,” Alfie sighed and I gave a light chuckle.
Stu’s expression warmed at my laughter and I glanced away shyly, focusing on my teacup. “Well anyway, the bloke we’re ripping off is actually an old acquaintance of the Duke’s, goes by the name of Renfield.”
“As in Dracula’s thrall?” Alfie scoffed. “That’s an unfortunate surname to get stuck with.”
“Renfield’s a big deal, some kind of hedge fund millionaire and apparently a crazy art fanatic. He’s had the painting in his private collection since the early nineties, when he supposedly purchased it from the thieves who pulled off the museum heist. The Duke caught wind that Renfield was relocating from London to the United Arab Emirates. Trouble is, he’s going to have a hell of a time moving his collection of stolen art and antiquities across the pond. That’s where I come in.”
I frowned past a sip of tea, my stomach churning as I listened to Stu speak. The whole thing just felt too real now Alfie and I were being held privy to the actual plan.
“The Duke used his contacts to have me recommended to Renfield as a specialist trafficker. I’ve got to pose as some bloke whose job it is to transport contraband across country borders. I’ve been in contact with him for a while now, but we won’t meet in person until next week. That’s where I’m going to have to convince him I’m the real deal.”
“And if you don’t?” I put in, scared for him. I had no idea what kind of nutcase this Renfield might be.
“Then the whole thing is screwed, I imagine,” said Alfie before Stu could reply.
“Pretty much,” Stu agreed.
“So, if my skills of deduction prove correct, what you plan to do is transport the Duke’s items while replacing the real painting with my fake, yes?”
“Yep.”
“But what if you get caught?” I asked anxiously. “Even after you swap the paintings you still have a bunch of stolen art to transport all the way to Dubai or wherever he’s moving to. That’s a big risk to take.”
Stu scratched his jaw, his expression torn. “The Duke says he’s organised for me to travel on a cargo ship that goes fucking everywhere before ending up in Malaysia, and from there I take another ship to Dubai, where Renfield’s men will collect the items.”
“Sounds a little too simple, if you ask me,” said Alfie, his expression thoughtful. “I’ve a feeling you’ll have a much bigger problem getting into the UAE than this Duke is letting on. And of course he won’t care because he’ll have his painting by then. I’m sure I’m right when I say you don’t want to go back to prison, especially not some Middle Eastern prison where quite frankly you’ll stand out like a sore thumb, not to mention you don’t even speak the language.”
Stu thought on this a moment before speaking. “So what you’re saying is I need to be one step ahead, right? Maybe I could pay somebody to transport the goods for me. Somebody who actually comes from the Middle East and understands what they’re dealing with.”
“Precisely,” said Alfie.
“Yeah, but how can I trust they’ll follow through?”
“Simple. You don’t pay them until the job is done. I might be an artist but I’m the son of a businessman. Growing up for me was a series of deals that my father was constantly in the middle of.”
Alfie’s voice grew detached for a moment. He never really spoke of his childhood because those years had been privileged but lonely. Also, even before they lost all their money, his dad had cheated on his mum countless times, turning her into a paranoid wreck. I was surprised Alfie lasted so long under her roof, since she wasn’t the easiest woman in the world to live with.
“Think I’m gonna have to call in some favours, find someone who’s desperate for the money and willing to take the risk,” said Stu, his expression thoughtful.
“That’s probably the wisest action to take. I certainly wouldn’t put myself through the risk of completing the journey.”
My heart clenched at Stu’s predicament, and though I was still trying to convince myself I was angry with him, I worried. I worried what would happen if he couldn’t find someone to take on the job, because in my gut I couldn’t stand the idea of him going it alone.
“Oh, before I forget,” said Alfie, opening up his laptop. “I made an interesting discovery today while studying the images the Duke provided.”
Both Stu and I came to stand by him as he pulled up a picture file that showed a 3-D image of The Storm on the Sea of Galilee. Alfie zoomed in on the cracks in the paint. “When I did this before I never had actual images of the original like this. It’s fascinating the things that can’t be seen in ordinary prints. I’ve always known that unlike paintings done on wood panels where the cracks run in somewhat straight lines, on canvas it’s the exact opposite. The cracks form in concentric circles, with a secondary network of finer cracks that radiate from the centre and join the circles together like a spider-web.”
He paused and zoomed again, this time rotating the image at an angle. “And see here, the cracks actually appear to be elevated. Fortunately, I have a few methods of replicating this effect so it shouldn’t be too difficult. My new discovery though, are these tiny little black and brown pinhead spots at the edges of the painting.” Now he zoomed to the far left of the piece. “All day I’ve been trying to figure them out, and with a bit of research online I managed to discover what they are.” He paused as though for dramatic effect.
Stu rubbed his thumb across his lips, an action I founded strangely mesmerising. So much so that I almost spilled the milk I held, catching myself just in time.
“You sure you won’t start going hysterical on me again? Last night was dramatic enough,” said Stu, eyes wary.
“I promise. I might not like it but I’ve made my peace with the situation. For better or worse, we’re all in this for the long haul.”
Stu eyed him a moment as I set Alfie’s cup down in front of him then carried the other over to Stu. Our fingers brushed when he took it, reminding me of how good it felt when he’d rubbed my back so soothingly. And yes, how good it felt when he’d kissed me at my parents’ house.
“The Duke’s getting out in a month. That’s why he needs the money. He plans on hotfooting it over to the Seychelles where he can spend his days in the sun and his nights bedding all the East African beauties he can get his hands on.”
“How delightfully extravagant and predictable,” Alfie sighed and I gave a light chuckle.
Stu’s expression warmed at my laughter and I glanced away shyly, focusing on my teacup. “Well anyway, the bloke we’re ripping off is actually an old acquaintance of the Duke’s, goes by the name of Renfield.”
“As in Dracula’s thrall?” Alfie scoffed. “That’s an unfortunate surname to get stuck with.”
“Renfield’s a big deal, some kind of hedge fund millionaire and apparently a crazy art fanatic. He’s had the painting in his private collection since the early nineties, when he supposedly purchased it from the thieves who pulled off the museum heist. The Duke caught wind that Renfield was relocating from London to the United Arab Emirates. Trouble is, he’s going to have a hell of a time moving his collection of stolen art and antiquities across the pond. That’s where I come in.”
I frowned past a sip of tea, my stomach churning as I listened to Stu speak. The whole thing just felt too real now Alfie and I were being held privy to the actual plan.
“The Duke used his contacts to have me recommended to Renfield as a specialist trafficker. I’ve got to pose as some bloke whose job it is to transport contraband across country borders. I’ve been in contact with him for a while now, but we won’t meet in person until next week. That’s where I’m going to have to convince him I’m the real deal.”
“And if you don’t?” I put in, scared for him. I had no idea what kind of nutcase this Renfield might be.
“Then the whole thing is screwed, I imagine,” said Alfie before Stu could reply.
“Pretty much,” Stu agreed.
“So, if my skills of deduction prove correct, what you plan to do is transport the Duke’s items while replacing the real painting with my fake, yes?”
“Yep.”
“But what if you get caught?” I asked anxiously. “Even after you swap the paintings you still have a bunch of stolen art to transport all the way to Dubai or wherever he’s moving to. That’s a big risk to take.”
Stu scratched his jaw, his expression torn. “The Duke says he’s organised for me to travel on a cargo ship that goes fucking everywhere before ending up in Malaysia, and from there I take another ship to Dubai, where Renfield’s men will collect the items.”
“Sounds a little too simple, if you ask me,” said Alfie, his expression thoughtful. “I’ve a feeling you’ll have a much bigger problem getting into the UAE than this Duke is letting on. And of course he won’t care because he’ll have his painting by then. I’m sure I’m right when I say you don’t want to go back to prison, especially not some Middle Eastern prison where quite frankly you’ll stand out like a sore thumb, not to mention you don’t even speak the language.”
Stu thought on this a moment before speaking. “So what you’re saying is I need to be one step ahead, right? Maybe I could pay somebody to transport the goods for me. Somebody who actually comes from the Middle East and understands what they’re dealing with.”
“Precisely,” said Alfie.
“Yeah, but how can I trust they’ll follow through?”
“Simple. You don’t pay them until the job is done. I might be an artist but I’m the son of a businessman. Growing up for me was a series of deals that my father was constantly in the middle of.”
Alfie’s voice grew detached for a moment. He never really spoke of his childhood because those years had been privileged but lonely. Also, even before they lost all their money, his dad had cheated on his mum countless times, turning her into a paranoid wreck. I was surprised Alfie lasted so long under her roof, since she wasn’t the easiest woman in the world to live with.
“Think I’m gonna have to call in some favours, find someone who’s desperate for the money and willing to take the risk,” said Stu, his expression thoughtful.
“That’s probably the wisest action to take. I certainly wouldn’t put myself through the risk of completing the journey.”
My heart clenched at Stu’s predicament, and though I was still trying to convince myself I was angry with him, I worried. I worried what would happen if he couldn’t find someone to take on the job, because in my gut I couldn’t stand the idea of him going it alone.
“Oh, before I forget,” said Alfie, opening up his laptop. “I made an interesting discovery today while studying the images the Duke provided.”
Both Stu and I came to stand by him as he pulled up a picture file that showed a 3-D image of The Storm on the Sea of Galilee. Alfie zoomed in on the cracks in the paint. “When I did this before I never had actual images of the original like this. It’s fascinating the things that can’t be seen in ordinary prints. I’ve always known that unlike paintings done on wood panels where the cracks run in somewhat straight lines, on canvas it’s the exact opposite. The cracks form in concentric circles, with a secondary network of finer cracks that radiate from the centre and join the circles together like a spider-web.”
He paused and zoomed again, this time rotating the image at an angle. “And see here, the cracks actually appear to be elevated. Fortunately, I have a few methods of replicating this effect so it shouldn’t be too difficult. My new discovery though, are these tiny little black and brown pinhead spots at the edges of the painting.” Now he zoomed to the far left of the piece. “All day I’ve been trying to figure them out, and with a bit of research online I managed to discover what they are.” He paused as though for dramatic effect.
