Page 55 of Savage Justice

“I don’t have any paintings missing…”

“No, but apparently someone does. Death of Atalanta? Ring any bells?”

I nod. “Sixteenth-century masterpiece. A seascape, in a storm. There’s an old galleon, Atalanta, sinking… It’s by Albrecht Dürer, reputedly commissioned by the Holy Roman Emperor himself. It’s in a museum in Germany, Nuremberg, I think. That’s where Dürer was born…”

“Not anymore. Apparently, it’s gone walkabout.”

“What?” I gape at him, aghast. “It must be worth millions…”

Nico is tapping something into his phone. He brings up a news channel. “An estimated eleven million euros according to this. The painting was seized in an audacious robbery two nights ago. Police believe the heist was orchestrated by an international cartel and the painting is already out of the country.”

“Jesus Christ,” I breathe. “But what does that have to do with me?”

“Didn’t you say Borys wasn’t above a spot of… irregular dealing?”

“Yes. Maybe. But…”

“International art theft gang? Sound likely?”

I nod slowly. “I wouldn’t be surprised. But this is big, way off his normal scale.”

“How do you know? Were you involved in any of his other dealings?”

“Of course not!” I can’t believe he’s seriously suggesting that. “I produce art. I don’t steal it. In any case, there’s no easy market for a piece like that. It’s famous, instantly recognisable. Whoever has it won’t be able to sell it on apart from to a private collector who isn’t fussy about provenance and who can’t ever let anyone else see it. I mean, there are people like that around, but…”

“Would Borys know anyone like that?”

“Yes, I suppose so. He has a lot of contacts. And there’s always the dark web, whatever that is. But why would the police be knocking on my door?”

“Not sure, but Eddie says they’re keen to talk to you. The detective left his card. I asked Eddie to send us a picture of it.” He hands me his phone with the image of a police-issue business card on the screen.

“Detective Inspector Martin Norris,” I read it aloud. “Should I give him a ring?”

Nico looks doubtful, and I suppose I can understand that. He’s naturally reluctant to get involved with the police.

“This is big,” I tell him. “Massive. It’ll send shockwaves through the international art world, and the police won’t be giving up. I ought to cooperate, especially as I’ve nothing to hide. If Borys has somehow pulled off a stunt like this, and I can help to recover that painting, well, I should do what I can, surely?”

“Why?” He appears genuinely baffled.

“Because a masterpiece like that belongs to the world, to humanity. If it’s been stolen by a greedy lowlife for their own selfish pleasure, that means it’s as good as lost. And that’s wrong. It offends me, as it would any genuine lover of art. I want to help…”

He appears unconvinced but eventually nods. “Okay.” He checks the card image again. “This guy’s based in Edinburgh. We can arrange to meet with him somewhere…”

“Why don’t we go to his office after the exhibition. We’ll be in town anyway.”

“His office? You mean to just wander into a police station? I’m not sure about that.”

“I have nothing to hide. Assisting with enquiries means just that, Nico.”

“To you, maybe.”

“To everyone. Look, you don’t have to come in…”

“Oh, no, you’re not going on your own. I’ll be there, and so will one of our lawyers.”

“I don’t think—”

“Just in case. Humour me. You ring Inspector Norris and tell him when we’ll be dropping in, and I’ll line up the legal representation.”

---