Elliot locked the safe. Next door in his office, he grabbed his desk phone and dialed Dottie, his determination and energy draining when she was out, and he had to leave a message for her. Ah. Maybe he hadn’t thought things through in that sense. Was Drew still making phone calls outside? Even if he were having better luck, with the time difference, could he get the money wired in time? How quickly did the British police move? He dropped his head into his hands.

  “Elliot?”

  Jonas, in Elliot’s office doorway, said his name as if repeating it, the expression on his face one of concern. He called over his shoulder to Aldric. “Could you make Drew a cup of tea and take it outside to him…and stay with him for a few minutes, please? I need to talk to Elliot.”

  “Fine!” Aldric’s mutinous tone suggested that it was anything but. His irritated “But I’m tired of being sent away” reached them, as it was meant to.

  Jonas entered and closed the door. “Elliot,” he began, “We don’t have the sort of relationship where we exchange confidences…”

  True. Elliot didn’t know much about the man he’d hired right after he’d taken Aldric on. Jonas had a strong résumé, with a master’s in art history and a first degree in history. He had been a college professor and was again now, teaching some classes at Laurel Heights University, known as the Heights, here in town.

  Elliot hadn’t asked him why he’d left the university he’d been working at in Dallas or why he’d left lecturing for curating and cataloging, then collecting and selling for Elliot. Jonas was knowledgeable about antiques and his personality made him an asset to Intrinsic Value. That was enough for Elliot. He nodded to show agreement and gestured at a chair on the other side of his desk, for Jonas to sit. Jonas remained standing.

  “I’m not prying now but I just went into the safe, and I get the feeling you want to sell the silver items you’ve been looking at. And, from your manner, sell them quickly. Do you need money in a hurry, Elliot?”

  “Yes,” Elliot replied.

  “I see. Elliot, I don’t know what’s going on, but I will say that giving in to a blackmailer doesn’t work. It might buy time, but in that time a person is so panic-stricken, they can’t think or plan clearly and logically.”

  “What?” Startled by this, Elliot stood. “I’m not being blackmailed!”

  “Swear?” demanded Jonas. He came close, his dark-brown eyes looking almost black in their intensity.

  “I swear.” Elliot breathed out. “I, well, we, Drew and I, need to raise fifty thousand dollars quickly or lose out on an item Drew needs to acquire. We only have a short time to do this. I have no doubt he’ll repay me for any outlay I make.”

  “And it’s…” Jonas seemed to be seeking the right word, as if what he was saying were about more than this wish to purchase a piece. “Important?”

  “Very much so. To both Elliot and me. To us.” He whispered the last part, as if that would make it real.

  “Fine.” Jonas straightened. “Then…do you have a tuxedo?”

  “Do I…?” Elliot goggled.

  “And you’re free tonight? And we’ll need five thousand as a stake.” Jonas nodded, his face sharp and decided, and his eyes gleaming like blackcurrants.

  Elliot goggled harder.

  * * * *

  Elliot still didn’t think he quite understood when they later pulled into the lot of the Palace Casino out on the northeast loop. And he especially didn’t when Jonas checked over both their appearances, then ruffled up his own hair and advised Elliot to do the same.

  Jonas’s next move was to reach into the back of his car and pull a small bottle of brandy out of a bag. He took a big drink of it, then gargled it before swallowing. “Sorry,” he apologized. He blew into his cupped hand and, seeming to decide his breath wasn’t right, sloshed a little brandy down the lapel of his tux.

  “May I?” Elliot took the bottle and had a nip. He thought he’d need it.

  “Have to look the part,” Jonas said.

  “Jonas…” Elliot handed him the bottle back. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but who the hell are you?”

  Jonas sighed. “Someone who’s needed money at various stages of his life. Like, to pay for college—I didn’t come from a rich family but knew I wanted to study, then research and teach. And…to pay something else later that threatened to cut me off from that life I’d built. It’s…in the past.”

  But Jonas had left his teaching position at Terrell State University in Dallas. He’d even left the state, relocating to San Antonio. Maybe he’d talk about his past when he was ready, as would Elliot. For now, this had to be enough.

  “Let’s go do this?” Jonas exited the vehicle. His final act before they headed into the building was to take a slightly battered-looking stuffed rabbit from the bag and clutch it by one ear, swinging it as they walked in. “Yee-hah!” he exclaimed in the lobby, his Dallas accent thick. “I’m feeling lucky! Got my good-luck charm with me—I can’t lose!”

  He did. Rather a lot, quickly, at roulette, despite trying one wheel after another, his exclamations loud and colorful. “Hell with this. Let’s try blackjack?” he called to Elliot, rising and swaying a little as he chose a table, jamming his lucky toy into the seat next to him…which was when he started winning. And continued winning. He bet small amounts at first then larger and larger amounts as the evening went on.

  Elliot’s heart was thumping like a kettle drum, and he was barely placing bets on the cards as the dealer eased them from the shoe, so he could only imagine how Jonas was feeling. Was he cheating? The management seemed to think so—a hostess came to remove his fluffy rabbit, claiming the seat was needed.

  “Hold him for me then!” Jonas demanded, and Elliot noticed a security guard examining the toy.

  It didn’t seem to affect Jonas’ luck or play. Taking the tiniest of sips from the free drinks the casino sent his way, he continued to place bigger bets when high cards were dealt, as if he knew they were coming, and smaller bets when lower cards came out, again, seeming to predict. His chips piled up. The dealers changed twice, the shoe was swapped out for another and different decks of cards were opened, but it made no difference. Jonas was winning big.

  “Sir, we wonder if you’d like to take a break, give other casino users a turn at the table?” an employee suggested to Jonas. Two other casino employees were shaking their heads over his furry bunny mascot now.

  Jonas stretched and cracked his knuckles. “Reckon I’m about done, anyways.” He snagged his toy and went to cash in. Elliot did his best not to gawk at the bundles of bank notes the cashiers stacked into a briefcase. He helped Jonas stagger back to the car, hoping the expression on his face wasn’t as wide-eyed as that of the rabbit.

  “I have to know!” burst from him before he started the engine. “How did you do that? A hidden camera or, or, microchips in the toy? Or it’s blessed and really brings you luck? Aren’t you afraid someone will steal it?”

  “The rabbit?” Jonas chuckled as he threw it into the backseat. He smoothed his ruffled hair down. “I bought it earlier from a cheap toy store and dirtied it up a little to make it look used. It distracts the casino while I’m counting cards.”

  “Counting cards?” Elliot didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

  “It’s a skill I cultivated and honed and it’s useful for emergencies.” Jonas sounded as though he were describing first aid, or map-reading. “As I play the part of an out-of-town tourist, I can only really do it once in each city as word spreads from casino to casino.” He patted the case containing over fifty thousand dollars. “So use this wisely.”

  Elliot doubted that what he needed money for, to buy a stolen painting from a fence, a painting that was a forgery anyway, was wise, but…

  Chapter Fifteen

  He had the same thought an hour later when he and Drew pulled up at the gates of the rundown business park off the North Interstate 35, where Silver had directed them.

  Drew shot him another look. “‘A big win at the casino,’” he quoted again. He’d said it a couple of times since Elliot had turned up at his hotel. Together, they’d called Silver to inform him they had the money and been told this address.

  Drew shook his head. “I said it before and I’ll say it again—for a straitlaced respectable business owner who leads a very orderly, regimented life, you have a lot of hidden sides.”

  Led a very orderly life. Led. “I told you, I’m trying to, well, live a little. Live, really, I suppose.” Elliot sought for the words. “I’ve sheltered behind a routine, behind walls I put up, for a long time.”

  “Since what happened with your family and you started over,” Drew said.

  Oh. He had. Elliot gave a nod. “It felt safer.” Then it felt like a straitjacket. “Then, when I felt ready”—when it chafed to the point of being unbearable—“I started to take steps outside the walls.”

  Drew laughed. “I think some of the ‘steps’ you’re taking, I, as a cop, should probably have you handcuffed against a wall for.”

  Elliot coughed. “Did you choose that image deliberately?”

  The glint in Drew’s eyes said he might have done. It also had Elliot hard. Handcuffs. There was something outside of his comfort zone right there. And yes, Drew was an officer of the law…

  “Well, for a cop…” It had been occurring to Elliot more and more and he couldn’t go any longer without voicing it. “…you’re very unconventional.” It wasn’t that he thought Drew’s Metropolitan Police ID was fake, but more that the kind of actions he’d undertaken here in San Antonio didn’t seem very orthodox. Drew couldn’t imagine Darrell working in the way Drew did, for instance. Darrell’s slightly off-the-wall partner, Sean, maybe, but…

  “Yeah. The way I’m operating…” Drew blew out a breath. “We’ll talk about it later, okay? Focus on this now.”

  Elliot had to agree that what they had on hand needed all their attention. Drew leaned out and pressed the buzzer at the side of the gate. “Prairie Verbena,” he said into the grille, rolling his eyes at Elliot.

  “I didn’t choose the passphrase,” Elliot muttered. He wondered if this was just for them or if Silver tended to use Hill Country wildflowers as passwords. Here on the north side of town, they weren’t far from that region.

  The gate slid back, and Drew drove them in, past neglected-looking low buildings with flat, corrugated-metal roofs and wide doors. The place seemed deserted, but Elliot wondered what went on behind the doors of each den.

  The flat metal door of one building opened slowly, inward, their invitation to park their vehicle and enter. The artificial light inside revealed Silver with more henchman than he’d had earlier, and two of them patted Elliot and Drew down, shaking their heads at Silver to indicate no weapons. They were armed though. Elliot didn’t mind admitting to himself that the pools of shadow and circles of metallic light in this large barn-like space were jarring and frightening.

  An underling slapped the briefcase on the metal table, the noise ringing, and snapped it open.

  “Look at that,” Silver gloated. “And you said you couldn’t come up with the cash. Amazing what you can do when you’re motivated. Tick, Bean…”

  His men brought out the painting from what was probably an office off to one side, holding it between them as though they were white-gloved assistants at an auction house, then laid it flat on the table. Drew twitched back the soft cloth covering it, and he and Elliot both stared at the picture of the clipper. It was dramatic and yet graceful, and the wealth of detail made it seem like a photograph. It was the painting Drew sought.

  “Thank you,” he said at last to the seller.

  “Oh, you’re welcome.” Silver closed the briefcase with a snick. “You can have the cloth too. You know…” His tone was casual, but Elliot would have preferred to grab what they’d come for and run. “I been looking up this painter, and these works…”

  “Oh?” Elliot tried not to stare too obviously at the door.

  “They’re not that valuable.”

  “The man who wants it really wants it.” Elliot tried a shrug.

  “And the gang who did the raid are really sorry they did it,” Silver added. In the silence that followed he looked from one to the other. “Are you gonna ask why?”

  “Why?” Elliot felt he had no choice but to play along.

  “Because someone big is after them. Well, after what they stole, but same thing really. Yeah, someone dangerous. Someone you don’t want to cross.”

  Images of things that had happened so far flickered through Elliot’s mind. The stallholder. Sanchez, the petty thief.

  “Well, I don’t want to cross him,” Silver continued. “So I’m clearing out, see?”

  Elliot realized what he meant, that there was nothing to see. Whatever this place had been used for, it was empty now. “Thank you,” he replied, not knowing what else to say. This whole interaction was so far removed from his normal reality that it felt surreal.

  “Can you tell us anything about this guy?” Drew broke in.

  Silver inclined his head at him. “It’ll cost ya.”

  “Well, I’m a little broke.” Drew scowled at the briefcase. “Can I owe you?”

  Silver sucked in air through his teeth. “Owing me ain’t wise.” One of his men laughed. “But I’ll give ya a freebie. He’s one of you.” He shot a glance at Drew.

  A cop? Was that what he meant? A chill rippled along Elliot’s spine. “Drew—”

  “British.” Drew cut Elliot off.

  “English, European, whatever.” Silver’s shrug said it was all the same. “And one of you.”

  This time his gaze took in both of them. Elliot flushed.

  “Hey, don’t bother me. Leaves more women for us,” Sliver assured them, to more chuckles from his posse. “But I heard he’s hardcore. In all senses. Likes to play…hard and extreme.”

  “Like BDSM?” Drew asked.

  “Maybe. But maybe not that sane or safe. Consensual, I dunno.” His tone suggested he did and that the answer was no.

  Elliot tried to puzzle through Silver’s words. So this guy, this crook, was into risky play?

  “Well, enjoy. Don’t look for me for a while as I’ll be out of town until this is all over. Give us five minutes to get clear before you leave, understood?” With a final smirk, Silver sauntered out, fifty thousand dollars richer than he’d been when he walked in.

  “Examine the painting right away,” Elliot suggested, and they hurried back to Drew’s car and the tools he’d stashed in it.

  Drew eased away the frame in one corner, as he’d done before, peeling away the picture placed on top of the original, to disguise it. Even in the light of the dashboard, the saturated hues and fragmented blocks of color made Elliot gasp, “A Cezanne.”

  “Sunrise at Châteaufort.” Drew levered the fake painting down again, covering the priceless work. His face shone with elation when he looked up. “That’s two of the paintings recovered. Two links back to Kislyak.”

  “But you need to get the third? You can’t go back to London with just two?”

  “I’m not sure.” Drew’s attention was on his task of covering the painting carefully. “The case is complicated. It’s ongoing and evolving.”

  Well, that’s me told. Elliot bit his bottom lip. “We have to get this into a safe as soon as possible,” he said.

  Drew started the car. “I don’t like it being on your property even for one night. We’ll go straight to the safe deposit box first thing tomorrow.”

  They’d been driving a few minutes when Elliot noticed the stiffening of Drew’s shoulders and neck as he glanced more and more into the driving mirror, and the tightening of his hands on the wheel of the Camry. The headlights of a car behind them shining brightly into their vehicle gave him a clue as to why. “The car behind…it’s too close.”

  “And been so for a few minutes and getting closer.” Drew sped up a little…and the black Escalade’s speed increased in tandem. Only much more so, until it was almost tailgating them.

  “Maybe they want to pass?” Elliot asked.

  Drew flashed the Camry’s lights then waved his hand out of the window in a pass, you moron gesture. The car didn’t, just inched closer, so Drew had to speed up to avoid getting bumped, then gripped the wheel hard to take a bend at the high speed. “Shit,” he breathed.

  The Escalade loomed black and impenetrable as a shark. Elliot could no longer pretend he thought it was some innocent road user who happened to be going their way, objecting to their speed and yet unable to overtake them on the road. That this was happening if not in broad daylight but out in the open, and almost casually like this, with no squeals of tires of screeches of brakes, or bangs and thuds, seemed strange and wrong.

  “Hang on,” Drew ordered, and Elliot grabbed for the roof bar above his door just as the Escalade bumped them, shoving them forward a foot. The shock as much as the actual thud jolted him. He nodded an I’m fine at Drew’s glance across at him.

  The speed Drew was driving pinned him to his seat, like he was on a ride at the fair, and he couldn’t hold in a cry as the Camry almost fishtailed when Drew took a bend too fast. Drew wrestled with the wheel to get the vehicle under control, wrenching hard to avoid a small pickup truck coming the other way. Did they clip it?

  “Up ahead.” Drew gave a quick chin jerk at the windshield. “See what I do?”

  “Another black Escalade?”

  “Think they want to box us in. Really hang on.” Drew gave an almighty swerve, forcing the car into a half-circle and into the lane going the other way, back the way they’d come. There wasn’t much traffic but enough for drivers to send up a chorus of blasts on the horn and curses…and some cheers.

  “Do you think they saw us leave Silver’s? Have they been tailing us?” Elliot exclaimed.

  “Let’s not wait to find out.” Drew pulled off at the first exit and took one B-road after another, driving in circles and figures of eights to reach the underground parking lot of Drew’s hotel until Elliot was lost and disorientated.