I file away the inconsistency and keep my face neutral. Dmitri taught me to gather information before confronting. Alexei taught me that people reveal more when they think you believe them.
“Petra. She worked in the authentication department with me at Christie’s.”
“You trust her?”
“As much as I trust anyone.” I pull up Petra’s contact information on my phone. “She left the auction house six months ago. Around the same time I did, actually. We stayed in touch.”
“Why did she leave?”
“She said she needed a change, but now, I’m wondering if it had something to do with the investigation into questionable transactions at Christie’s.” I set down my phone. “That’s what we’re trying to figure out tomorrow.”
“And if she’s involved? If she’s been feeding information to whoever’s investigating your family?”
Then she’ll learn what it costs to betray a Kozlov.”
The next morning,we meet Petra at a café near the British Museum. Tony chose our table specifically so we had our backs to the wall and a clear view of both entrances. I didn’t comment, but I noticed.
She looks just how I remember her: short dark hair, severe glasses, and the kind of precise appearance that comes from years of examining art under microscopes.
She stands to hug me. “Sasha! It’s been too long.”
“It has. Thank you for meeting us.” I gesture to Tony. “This is Tony Haugh. He’s helping my family with some security concerns.”
Petra shakes his hand. Her eyes do a quick assessment that I recognize from our authentication work together. She’s trying to figure out if he’s legitimate or a forgery.
“Security concerns,” she repeats as we sit. “That sounds ominous.”
“Someone’s been investigating my family’s business dealings. We’re trying to figure out who and why. You said on the phone that you might have information?”
“Maybe.” Her smile is too polished. “It depends on whether you want the truth… or something safer.”
“Always the truth.”
Petra glances at Tony, then back to me. “About six months ago, right before I left Christie’s, there was an internal investigation into irregularities in the provenance documentation for several high-value pieces. Paintings, mostly. Very quiet and very contained.”
“What kinds of irregularities?”
“Someone was using Christie’s to move art with questionable ownership. Money laundering through legitimate sales.” She sips her tea. “Your family’s name came up several times in the files I saw.”
“My family collects art. That’s not suspicious.”
“No, but the timing was interesting. Several purchases happened right before a major operation was exposed and shut down.You remember that debacle with Adrian?” Petra sets down her cup. “Someone with authority was very interested in the Kozlov family’s art acquisitions during that period.”
Adrian Belmont. The name makes my stomach drop. I’m the one who exposed his operation after I discovered the irregularities in his transactions. I filed the complaint with Christie’s and provided the documentation. Now, Petra’s saying someone started investigating my family right after that. The timeline clicks into place with sickening clarity.
“Who was asking about my family?” I press.
“I don’t know. The investigation was handled above my level, but someone was building documentation about those transactions. Sasha, I left because I didn’t want to be involved in whatever was happening. If someone’s investigating your family now, it probably started back then.”
I force myself to nod and thank her for the information. We chat for a few more minutes about mutual colleagues and her new position at a private gallery, but my mind is elsewhere. When Petra glances at her watch and mentions another appointment, I’m almost relieved.
She hugs me goodbye outside the café. “Be careful, Sasha. Whatever’s happening, I have a feeling it’s going to get messy.”
“I know. Thank you for this.”
Tony and I walk back to the hotel in silence. My mind races through what Petra just told me. Adrian lost everything when I exposed his operation. Now, someone’s investigating my family’s connection to him, and people are trying to kill me. The connection seems obvious, but I can’t figure out why Adrian would wait six months to retaliate.
I glance at Tony. He’s been quiet since we left the café. Something about Petra’s information bothered him, but I can’t tell what. His jaw is set, and he keeps glancing down the street like he expects an attack. When I mentioned Adrian’s name, something moved across his face. Recognition? Guilt? I couldn’t read it fast enough.
