Page 152 of The Chase
“Oh, I can do better.” He broke into a smile and yelled, “Who wants fish and chips?” The roar of happiness echoed around us.
Tobias beamed at me. “Right there, that’s my superpower.”
28
I spent the following day working in my office at The Tiriani building while waiting for Abby, Shane and Adley to return. They’d had the uncomfortable task of visiting the Jaeger family to deliver the news their insurance claim was on hold until the provenance of their Munch could be further explored.
I had my own crises that needed airing with the team; that scandalous appearance ofSt. Joanwasn’t going away.
By 6:00 p.m. I’d organized my office in preparation to head home, resigned to discussing my personal scandal tomorrow.
“We’ve got him!” Abby leaned on my office doorjamb and gave a victory wave.
“They arrested him?” I pushed myself to my feet. “Icon?”
“Ten minutes ago a security guard stakeout caught a glimpse of a man on the roof of the Tate Modern. They’d upped their security after the hit at Christie’s. Private sector. He’s drilling through the roof. The Met are closing in now.”
“That’s brilliant.”
“I know, right?”
“Are they armed?” These words sent a slither of fear up my spine.
My intuition caused my mouth to go dry, and I reached for a bottle of sparkling water so I wouldn’t have to look at her.
“Yes,” she said. “I hope the fucker messes up and gets himself shot.”
My throat tightened.
“I’ll keep you updated.” She turned on her heels and headed back to her office.
“I appreciate that,” I called after her.
Trembling, I poured a few drops of water onto my bonsai tree and the delicate branches bounced as the water struck its leaves. Busying the creative part of my brain I ran through what I knew. Icon was supersmart, a man who understood technology and easily grasped the latest in security measures, so our man would no doubt love techie devices.
Was his reign as one of the world’s most infamous thieves about to come to an end?
Don’t.
Ignoring my dark musing, I recalled every interaction I’d ever had with Tobias, that first meeting at The Otillie. Where had he rushed off to later that night? Coincidentally the same evening that Munch was stolen. His financial status would provide him with the means to easily travel and his status could ensure his ability to jump on his private jet and fly to any destination on a whim.
Depending where the “job” was.
The suspect would know a lot about art and Tobias owned The Wilder, and was immersed in every aspect of this world.
The culprit wouldn’t need to be greedy because he was already superrich. Perhaps the thrill of the heist was his main motive? His life would be complex and he’d no doubt have a busy schedule that would allow for an alibi when needed. He’d most certainly have contacts within high society so that when those elite invitations came along he’d have access into the private homes of the megarich.
Like an invitation to a secret society’s orgy that would provide a reason to visit one of the grandest private collections of Goya on the planet.
Logan had never admitted she was Ruby. Maybe I’d read her wrong.
My hands tremored as I nudged the small plant’s pot back a little. I was being absurd; I mean last night I’d spent a wonderful evening in that old church on Copperfield Street with Tobias. He was a good man. A kind man. Yet so many questions remained unanswered.
The evening Inspector Ford had visited my apartment I’d locked my door after I’d let Sergeant Mitchel in. Not only had Tobias accessed my flat, he’d turned up at the same time the police were there to question me.
I’d also beenhisalibi during the theft at Christie’s.
My heart thundered as I remembered his unusual knowledge of Francisco Goya’sLa Maja Desnudabeing hidden behind a fake painting in a state room at Blandford Palace.
