The Final Cut

Victoria didn’t back down. “I’m sorry the idea upsets you, Nicholas, but facts are facts.”


Mike said, “Tell me, Victoria, what did you think of Elaine York? You worked with her for months, both long-distance and in person. What leads you to think Elaine had something to do with this?”

“Fact is, I wasn’t suspicious until the diamond disappeared. I thought she was a very nice woman, competent and focused. We even had drinks and dinner together on occasion.” Victoria looked over at Nicholas. “Elaine even spoke to me about you.”

“Did she, now?”

She nodded. “Don’t worry, she said only that the two of you had been close, once upon a time. She said you had a fascinating family and a very old home with a ghost. She also said you lied very well, but only when you had to, and she knew she could always trust you. But no matter now. The diamond is gone, and she’s gone as well. As I see it, either Inspector York was deeply involved, or something much worse is at play here.”

What could be worse? Nicholas wondered.

A red light began flashing on the screen in front of Mike. She stared at the screen. “Well, I’ll be. There’s a match. We’ve got ourselves a criminal in the house.”

Nicholas bent over the screen. A man’s dark face stared back at him, large and rectangular and hard, with dark hair and eyes, a flat nose, and a thin, sneering mouth.

Mike said, “I didn’t expect this, I really didn’t.”

Nicholas said, “What’s wrong? We wanted a crook, and we have one.”

“Unfortunately, this guy is dead as a doornail at the morgue. Meet Vladimir Kochen, the dead man we found in Elaine’s apartment.”





21


Thursday, 5:00 p.m.

Nicholas said, “I want to go to Brighton Beach and see Anatoly right now. He’s in this. This Vladimir Kochen character coming to the Met proves it.”

Mike said, “I know, but it’s a forty-minute drive at the best of times. Right now the traffic will be obscene, even with the lights and sirens. We’d never make it there and back in time for the start of the gala. We’ve got to stay here and keep looking.” She paused for a moment, made a decision. “Let me make a quick call.” She called out, “Victoria, will you excuse us for a moment?”

Victoria looked annoyed by the dismissal, but after her little speech about Elaine, Nicholas couldn’t care less if she was pissed.

He stared after her. “You know, I really don’t like that woman.” He turned back to Mike, watched her speed-dial a number.

“Ben? Please send three or four agents, a good show of force, to pick up Andrei Anatoly and bring him in for questioning—have them tell him it’s about the murder of Elaine York. FYI, we just got an NGI hit on one of his men, Vladimir Kochen. Name sound familiar? The bastard was here, at the museum, so you know Anatoly is somewhere in the mix. Right. Thanks, Ben.”

She drummed her fingers on the counter. “Ben Houston is from Art Crimes. He knew Inspector York. About the match—the moment Dillon Savich identified Kochen as one of Anatoly’s soldiers, I knew he had to be involved in the theft. We need to move quickly. Truth is, Anatoly wouldn’t cop to anything, even to save his own son. And guess what else? We don’t have a shred of proof tying him to this, only coincidence.”

“Tell me about him.”

Her voice went cold. “Anatoly is not a good man. He has lawyers so slimy you’d think they came right out of the primordial ooze. We can rattle his cage, let him know we know he’s involved. But we can’t hold him, not without something solid.”

Nicholas wasn’t used to waiting for his prey to come to him, but he didn’t see that he had much of a choice. He nodded curtly.

Mike’s phone buzzed with a text message. She glanced at the screen. “It’s the crew. They’re at the loading dock. Let’s go down and get them.”

Victoria knocked on the door, opened it. “Mike, forgive me for intruding, but your team is here.”

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