Page 94 of Savage Justice

“Stay as long as you like,” Ethan replies.

The not so closely guarded secret of the relationship between Lucy and Marlowe is out now. I sat her down and explained, and the first thing she did was rush and tell Robbie. That opened the floodgates, and within the hour everyone on Caraksay knew, even Mrs McRae the cook. Lucy was bursting with pride to have such an accomplished artist as her uncle, having totally failed to grasp that my fame probably exceeds his. That’s kids for you.

She’s been hanging around the tower room the last few days watching Marlowe at work, and he’s been happy enough to tolerate her presence and her chatter. It’s good to see.

Even better to see, Nico is still her absolute hero, her Superman and Harry Potter all rolled into one.

“We have a nibble.”

Frankie makes his announcement over a pile of chocolate chip cookies in the Caraksay kitchen.

“A nibble?” I query.

Nico is sharper than me. “He’s trying to sell it?”

“Sell what? Who?” I’m baffled. They’re taking in some foreign language.

“Glodowski, and he’s trying to sell that picture he nicked.”

“Death of Atalanta? Are you sure?” Is he mad? That painting is hot. Scorching. Police forces across the world are on alert, looking for it, waiting for it to surface on the black market.

“I’m sure. He has it on the dark web. Obviously, he’s not calling it that.”

“So, how do you know it’s the same one?”

“The price. He’s asking ten million euros for it. He doesn’t have anything else even close to that value, and the fact that he’s not displaying an image is proof.”

“How do you know all of this?” I wonder aloud.

Frankie stuffs another biscuit in his mouth. “Been tracking him for weeks, waiting for him to make his move.”

“He’s a greedy bastard,” Nico observes. “A wiser man would have laid low a lot longer. He must need the cash.”

Ethan has been listening. “It could be Kaminski trying to sell it.”

Frankie shakes his head. “Not a peep out of him online, at least not in relation to this. He’s busy setting up his counterfeit currency outlet in the southeast. Got some construction projects in the pipeline as well. Birmingham and Sheffield.”

“Kaminski is in the UK?” Ethan’s tone sharpens.

Frankie nods. “As far as I can tell. Glodowski is definitely in Warsaw, and that’s where he’s uploading the data from.”

“Doesn’t mean the painting is there. He could have it stashed anywhere,” Ethan points out.

“I know. I’ve been on that, too. Like you asked.”

“And?”

“Nothing concrete, but I’ll know the moment he tries to shift it. He can’t wipe his nose now without me knowing about it.”

Nico interrupts. “You said there was a nibble. You mean, someone’s interested in buying it?”

“Even though they must know it’s stolen,” I chip in.

“That could be part of the attraction. Who is it?”

“This guy.” Frankie swings his laptop around to show us a crisp image of a man in flowing Arabic robes and a bright-red headdress.

“Who’s that?” I ask.

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