“Did we shoot anyone?” Natasha asked in a whisper as she followed him upstairs.
“No,” he laughed. “Do you want me to go back and shoot them?” he asked as he put his arms around her, and held her for a moment to calm her, but he was thinking about what the head security guard had just told him, that he had seen Natasha look into the gun room as she ran by, and he was certain she’d seen the paintings wrapped up in the corner. He thought Vladimir should know. But Vladimir wasn’t convinced that she knew what they were, in the panic of the moment, about to be boarded by pirates. And if she had seen them, Vladimir felt sure she would ask him about it. She had an innocent, unsuspicious nature, and she hadn’t said a word. He trusted her. But she was intelligent and might wonder about it later, whether she mentioned it or not. She had changed everything by looking into the room, and she now represented an important risk. There was no telling when or if she’d figure out what she’d seen.
They were sailing closer to shore by then, in touch with the local coast guard, heading toward Venice at considerable speed. And as he looked at her asleep in their bed that night, he told himself that she would never suspect him of anything, or even whose paintings they were. It would never dawn on her to accuse him of an art theft. He was sure that she would never imagine that he had done it to punish the Lucas for not selling him the painting he wanted. It was time they learned a lesson. He hadn’t decided what to do with the paintings yet. But he liked knowing that now they were his. It was an extraordinary feeling of power, taking what he wanted. No one could tell him they weren’t for sale, or that he couldn’t have them. He allowed no one to make the rules for him, or to control him. He paid handsomely for what he wanted. Or took it, if denied.
They reached Venice two days later, after a vigilant trip. They had doubled the men on watch and stayed alert, and all the officers, security guards, and deckhands remained armed, just in case the freighter had been in collusion with another boat that would cross their path, but none appeared. And those who were armed remained in full view on deck. They didn’t put the weapons away until just before they reached Venice, and then they locked them in the gun room again. Natasha was on deck with Vladimir, admiring Venice when they did. She was nowhere near the gun room that time.
Natasha was relieved to be in a civilized place again. Their close encounter with the pirates had unnerved her. To calm her, Vladimir went shopping with her in Venice. They visited several churches and the local sights, and had dinner at Harry’s Bar, and he took her on a gondola ride and kissed her under the Bridge of Sighs. And then they got back on their boat and headed back to France.
Natasha was quiet on the trip, trying to decide what she should do. There was no doubt in her mind what was in the gun room, and who it belonged to. The only thing she didn’t know was how it had gotten there. And she didn’t know who to tell or if she should. She never questioned Vladimir about it. She didn’t dare. And he was more loving to her than ever, which made her decision harder.
She still had Theo’s number on a piece of paper in her wallet, but she knew that if she called him, it could be traced to her phone or whatever phone she used, and somehow Vladimir might find out. She didn’t want anything bad to happen to him, but she wanted Theo and his mother to get their paintings back. They didn’t deserve to have this happen. What Vladimir had done was wrong. She was sure he had done it. And she hated knowing, and the burden it put on her now. There was no denying what she had seen. She had much to think about. And she didn’t notice Vladimir observing her.
“Are you all right?” Vladimir asked her when they reached the Mediterranean again. She seemed troubled and he wasn’t sure why.
“I didn’t like what happened,” she said about the pirates, looking worried. “What if they had come onboard? They would have killed us,” she said. She made it clear that they had frightened her badly. It had happened to others before, though mostly in more troubled countries and dangerous waters. It had startled him too, and had been an unexpected, inconvenient episode. And he was upset that the gun room had been left open, and that Natasha had happened by at the wrong time, with the paintings hidden there in plain sight. They were wrapped but clearly didn’t belong there. But she still hadn’t mentioned them to him. The pirates concerned her more. He wondered if she’d seen the paintings at all in her terror, but the head of security was sure she had, and said she had paused for an instant once she saw them. Vladimir wasn’t convinced. It wasn’t like her to be secretive with him, and she hadn’t said a word.
“That’s why we have guns onboard,” he said in a soothing tone, “in case of incidents like that.” But he could see that she was still distressed. She didn’t seem to relax again until they were back at anchor off Antibes. They had been gone for three weeks. Even telling her he’d gotten the Monet at auction didn’t distract her, or even seem to please her.
—
Maylis was working alternate nights with Theo at the restaurant by then, to give him some relief, and Gabriel was feeling well again and going for long walks every day. It had been such a stressful time for Theo that his mother tried to give him a break.
And one of Athena’s fellow officers told her when the boat was back. She mentioned it to Steve the next day.
“We don’t have any reason to go and see him again,” Steve reminded her. “None of the evidence points to him.” It didn’t point to anyone yet. And there was no sign of the twelve missing paintings. All their informants had come up dry, which Athena thought was strange. And all the employees of the restaurant had been thoroughly investigated. No one on the task force, or even at the insurance company, thought it was an inside job. But clearly whoever had done it were professionals, and had high-tech methods.
“I wouldn’t mind talking to his lady friend,” she said, thoughtfully. “If he’ll let me.” She had a feeling that he wouldn’t want her to, which explained why he’d sent Natasha away last time.
“I don’t know what that’s going to get you. She didn’t steal them. Why would she?” Steve said, thinking that for once Athena was looking in the wrong direction.
“Maybe she knows something.” But even Athena knew she was clutching at straws. She saw the boat the next day when she drove through Antibes, and noticed a helicopter taking off from the aft helipad, and wondered if Vladimir was on it. It was worth a shot. If she could get her alone, maybe they’d connect. She looked at Steve and sprang to life. “Get us a boat. We’re going visiting.”
“Now?” He was tired, they’d had a long day, and they were shooting blanks.