As we walk, I lean close to Urakov. "I need you to secure transport—something discreet but heavily guarded. Can you manage that?"
A curt nod. "Consider it done."
While I handle the paperwork, my mind is elsewhere. Where did Nicholas take Vivianne? What is his endgame? And most importantly, how can I turn this situation to my advantage?
As I sign the last document, a chilling thought occurs. What if the painting isn't what Nicholas is after?
What if this entire elaborate setup—the theft, the auction, even the anthrax—was all to reach Vivianne?
My jaw clenches, anger and fear warring within me. If that's the case, I've played right into his hands. But two can play at this game. If Nicholas wants to dig up the past, he'll be reminded why I was always the more dangerous brother.
Urakov returns just as I finish. "Transport is ready."
I nod. "Let's move. We have a long night ahead of us."
As we leave the auction house,Dr. Gachetis secured. Vivianne's fate remains unknown. Nicholas may think he has the upper hand, but he's forgotten one crucial detail.
I always win.
TWO
Paul: The Chalet
I expecttrouble during the loading ofDr. Gachetinto my Mercedes. Fortunately, the painting is small—just under two feet by two feet—and, with packing and crating materials, it easily fits inside the generous trunk of my car.
But where to?
Do I go to the chalet like Nicholas ordered? Would I be walking into a trap? Or do I stay in Lac Léman and secure the painting at the Russian consulate?
That is the wisest choice, but that painting is my bargaining chip. Whoever hired Nicholas will expect my brother to complete the transaction. For the moment, the painting stays with me.
After a quick discussion with Urakov, the Russian agrees with the plan. If he genuinely cares about the stash of anthrax hidden inside, he should argue more strongly to secure it at the consulate, but Urakov's jaw twitches every time I mention Vivianne.
I don't head to the chalet alone. Urakov and his men follow me back up the winding mountain roads. Urakov refuses to leavemy side, muttering more about how we're going to get Vivianne back than what we're going to do with the painting.
The company is welcome. It gives me time to plan.
The drive down took just under two hours. I make it back in less than ninety minutes. Not caring about the winding road and hairpin curves, the Mercedes navigates the challenging terrain with the roar of its V12 bi-turbo engine.
Urakov's men try to keep up but lag in the curves. They can't match the precision of German engineering.
Still no response from Nicholas.
My brother is likely conferring with those who hired him. If this job is like any of the others we did together in the past, Nicholas didn't fulfill his commitment when he delivered the painting to the auction house.
For Nicholas's business to be concluded, it has to reach the buyer.
I robbed Nicholas of that.
My stomach turns at the thought of transporting anthrax in the back of my car, but Urakov assures me the people who smuggled it aren't keen on exposing themselves to the deadly spores. Protective measures are in place, he insists. I take faith in their desire for self-preservation because my life hinges on it.
What I don't know—and what Urakov ponders as well—is how to remove the anthrax from the painting without damaging the protective coating.
Urakov knows the two will be together, but not how the anthrax is stored. It could be in the frame, inserted inside a hollowed-out compartment, or sandwiched between the canvas and protective backing.
"And you expect him to accept this trade?" Urakov drags his finger up the seam of his dark suit. "He won't hurt your woman?"
"I'm counting on whoever hired him calling him out."
