“Yep, they texted me. Let’s go get them.”
“No, I’ll go,” Victoria said. “I need to get them through security. You two keep doing what you’re doing. About the match on your system, Mike, I know the man. I saw him having lunch with Elaine last week.”
She started to leave, and Nicholas grabbed her arm.
“Talk.”
She stilled and looked down at his hand, at his fingers encircling her arm.
He released her immediately, inclined his head. “Apologies, Dr. Browning. Please, tell us what you know.”
She looked at her arm, her jaw tightened. “I don’t know anything more. I simply saw Elaine having lunch with him here in the museum café. They seemed chummy. I didn’t get the sense she felt she was in danger, but I hardly paid attention. I’ll be back shortly. If I’m allowed to proceed.”
Mike nodded. “Of course. Thanks for the information.”
When she left, Mike said, “I can’t allow you to punch her out, no matter what she says, all right?”
Nicholas paced Bo’s office. “She has all the answers, doesn’t she?” He ran his fingers through his hair, making it stand on end. “It’s been a long day.”
“Yes, it has. Look, neither one of us has had much sleep, and you’ve lost a friend.”
He was silent, continued to pace. He looked down at the communications center every time he walked past her, as if the answer might magically appear on the bank of screens on the wall in front of them.
“Tell me about the Anatoly crime family.”
Mike glanced at the still-running facial-recognition database and wondered if Kochen had been Elaine’s accomplice, if he’d been the one to plant the device that knocked out all the power. “They’re a pretty typical Russian Mob, loosely organized, not structured like the Italians, and half the time they spend fighting with other parts of the Bratva—the Brotherhood. We’ve gotten them under control in New York, more than three hundred indictments in the past few years, but they’re like rats, they breed in the dark corners. Smuggling, arms dealing, credit card fraud, cyber-crime. They’re opportunistic and lethal—they never hesitate to kill if they’re crossed.
“Anatoly, the big boss—I’ll admit it—he’s scary, smart, and brutal to those who cross him. He has seven sons from two wives who run the various syndicates, all physically bigger than he is, and twice as vicious. Anatoly, at least, has some semblance of culture, a sheen of respectability; on occasions like tonight, he likes to present himself as a wealthy philanthropic businessman. He’s big into the art scene in New York. Likes to get all shined up and come out in public, throw money at things. He’s slick, too. We haven’t gotten anything to stick to him; he lets the others do his dirty work for him.”
“And Kochen?”
“Like I told you, Kochen is one of the foot soldiers, has a rap sheet a mile long. He’s been approached to be an informant a few times, and he’s been cooperative on the surface but hasn’t ever given anything of use. He likes money, and bars and floozies.”
“You said Savich wants to talk to Anatoly about the theft of The Night Tower from the Prado. He’s known for art crimes, yet he supports the Met?”
Mike said, “Yeah, isn’t that a kick? Fact is, though, Anatoly is better known for diamond smuggling. It’s the best way to move large amounts of money around. Diamonds are valuable and portable. Like I said, we haven’t been able to break him. He’s been under almost constant investigation since I joined the New York Field Office.”
“Sounds like Anatoly indeed has the money to finance stealing the Koh-i-Noor. Do you have a dress, by the way?”
“What?”
“A gown. For the gala. It’s black tie. You’re going to stand out in that outfit.”
She glanced down at her jeans and boots. “Oh. Well, yes, I have one at home.”