Chapter 5 - The Trap
My supervisor's name was Arthur Bell.
Sixty-two years old.
Two grandchildren.
And completely innocent.
“They want the ledger,” I said.
Kalin shook his head.
“They want you.”
“Then we give them what they want.”
“No.”
“Kalin—”
“No.”
“Arthur could die.”
“And sending you gets both of you killed.”
“We need another plan.”
“I have one.”
“What?”
“You stay here.”
I stared at him.
“That isn't a plan.”
“It is my favorite plan.”
“I hate your favorite plan.”
“I noticed.”
Russo placed photographs of an abandoned warehouse on the table.
“The exchange is here.”
I studied them.
Then looked at the ledger.
“We make a copy.”
Kalin's eyes narrowed.
“Go on.”
“They don't know whether I've studied it.”
“You have?”
“Every page.”
Kalin stared at me.
“You memorized it?”
“I restore paintings for a living. Details are my job.”
A slow smile appeared.
“Bunny slippers and a photographic memory.”
“Don't get distracted.”
---
The next night, we went to the warehouse.
Kalin hated every second.
“You stay beside me.”
“Yes.”
“If I say run—”
“I run.”
“If I say down—”
“I get down.”
“If I say—”
“Kalin.”
“What?”
“You're pacing again.”
He stopped.
I smiled.
“You really need to work on that.”
He looked at me for a long moment.
Then quietly said:
“Come back alive and I'll stop pacing forever.”
The joke disappeared.
“I'll come back.”
---
Arthur sat tied to a chair inside the warehouse.
A man stepped from the shadows.
Anthony Rossi.
Elegant suit.
Gray hair.
Cold smile.
“Elena Parker.”
“Arthur first.”
Rossi laughed.
“You sound like your father.”
“You knew him?”
“Very well.”
“You forced him to work for you.”
“He volunteered.”
I shook my head.
“He documented everything.”
“He became sentimental.”
Rossi's smile vanished.
“He believed art belonged in museums instead of private collections.”
“That sounds exactly like him.”
I held up the copied ledger.
“Let Arthur go.”
Rossi nodded.
One of his men cut Arthur loose.
Arthur hurried toward us.
Then Rossi held out his hand.
“The ledger.”
I tossed it across the floor.
He picked it up.
Flipped through several pages.
His expression changed.
“This is a copy.”
“Yes.”
Kalin glanced at me.
Rossi's men moved.
Kalin's guards immediately stepped forward.
The room became perfectly still.
Rossi looked at me.
“Where is the original?”
“Somewhere you'll never find it.”
He smiled.
“Then perhaps I keep you until you remember.”
Kalin stepped between us.
“No.”
One word.
Quiet.
Absolute.
Rossi's smile faded.
“You'll start a war for her?”
Kalin didn't hesitate.
“Yes.”
I looked at him.
Rossi studied us.
Then distant sirens began approaching.
His head snapped toward the windows.
“What did you do?”
I smiled.
“The ledger wasn't just leverage.”
Kalin's eyes shifted toward me.
I continued.
“My gallery's attorney sent copies to federal investigators this afternoon.”
Rossi stared at me.
“You—”
“You spent years assuming my father was weak because he loved paintings more than money.”
The sirens grew louder.
“You made the same mistake with me.”
Chaos erupted as Rossi's men began retreating.
Kalin grabbed my hand.
“Move.”
We ran.
---
Outside, federal vehicles surrounded the property.
Arthur was safe.
The ledger was safe.
And for the first time in days, I could breathe.
Kalin stood beside me.
“You sent copies without telling me.”
“Yes.”
“You lied to me.”
“Yes.”
“You walked into a warehouse knowing federal agents were coming.”
“Yes.”
His jaw tightened.
“You are impossible.”
I smiled.
“So I've been told.”
His hand rose toward my face, then stopped.
I looked at it.
“What?”
“I don't know if I'm allowed.”
“To what?”
“Touch you.”
That question affected me more than all his money, guards, and power ever had.
I took his hand.
Placed it against my cheek.
May you like
“You could've asked sooner.”
---
