Page 63 of A Life Imagined
“Is that right?”She inclined her head toward Mathias.“Can I speak with you?”They stepped away, and Elise lowered her voice to a fierce whisper.“That piece is a Cézanne.I just had it authenticated by a contact at the Musée d’Orsay.Klauss must have found out.It’s worth more than a dozen Dürers.”
Mathias shrugged.“So?We don’t have anyone interested in buying it.I have two clients ready to pay me for these ones.”
“Not yet, but wait until it’s done being restored.You’ll have people beating down the door—our friend Klauss included.”
Mathias studied his appraiser.It was a bold move.Perhaps he was rubbing off on her.“It doesn’t happen often, Dumont, but sometimes you surprise me.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
When they rejoined the anxiously waiting Klauss, Mathias gave him a complicit smile.“I’ll think about it.”
They returned to their seats, and the auction started up again.The painting in the next lot—some technicolor Cubist monstrosity—wasn’t on their list.Mathias lifted his paddle.Almost immediately, Klauss followed.
“What are you doing?”Elise hissed beside him.
“Fucking with him,” Mathias replied with a smirk.
It was late afternoon by the time they arrived back in Calais.Mathias knew as soon as he pulled the car up outside the warehouse that something was wrong.The roller door had been pulled all the way open, and a black BMW was parked out front.
Elise leaned forward in the passenger seat and squinted through the windshield.“Did we forget to lock up?”
“No.”Mathias reached beneath his seat and pulled out his gun.Here we go.Might as well get it over with.
At least the timing had worked out.He’d finally decided what to do about his Albanian problem.But he would need all the leverage he could muster to pull it off.
Elise gasped and stared at him, wide-eyed, as he checked the chamber and tucked the pistol into the waistband of his slacks.“Where did you get that?Do you even know how to use it?”
“I think I can figure it out.”He pulled out his phone and enabled the location-tracking function then slipped it back into his pocket.
“This is all my fault,” Elise said, her voice rising in panic.“If I hadn’t pushed so hard with the Indonesian dealer—”
“Shut up and listen.”
Elise snapped her mouth closed.It was a tone he hadn’t used with her before.Mathias had no more patience for theatrics.
“I need you to keep a clear head, understand?”he said.
She nodded.
“You’re going to take the car to number nine, Rue Carnot.If Rayan’s not there, go and find him.Got that?”
“He’ll know what to do?”
Of that, Mathias had no doubt.He yanked open the car door.“Don’t wait until I’m inside.Just drive.”
“You’re going inside?”Elise’s face had gone white.
“I have what they want.They’re not going to do anything to me until they get it back.”And they’re not going to find it here.
No sooner had Mathias made it halfway across the parking lot than he heard the squeal of tires.Elise banked a hard right and gunned the car toward the road.There came a loud crash from inside the warehouse, and he approached the open door cautiously, his hand resting on the handle of his gun.
Several shelves had been overturned, and a mess of merchandise was strewn across the floor.It was lucky he’d sent Elise away.She would have had a coronary.Mathias could see two men in sports jackets attempting to pry open the lid to a crate of packing material by the entrance to the office.The office itself looked undisturbed, which meant they hadn’t made it that far yet.
“Afternoon, gentlemen.”
The men looked up with matching sour expressions.
“You realize this isn’t a junk shop.That’s some pricey product you’ve tossed on the floor.Unfortunately, house rules apply: you break, you buy.”
