Page 109 of Savage Justice
Her brow creases. “What sort of meeting?”
“With Kaminski.”
Now she looks even more perplexed. I can’t say I blame her.
“Why?”
My first guess would have been that Kaminski was wanting to enlist our support in some way to get his brother out of jail. The return of the painting might have done the trick, but if that’s what’s on his mind he’s already too late. Ethan had it delivered by courier to Edouard Montrou weeks ago.
Molly reads my mind. “He must know Death of Atalanta is back in Nuremberg. It made the national news.
There had been headlines at the time. ‘Mysterious return of stolen masterpiece’. It sent shockwaves reverberating around the art world, Kaminski can’t have missed it.
“We’ll know soon enough. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.” I work for the Savages, I’m at Ethan’s beck and call. She isn’t.
“I’ll come. And it’s a Saturday, so Lucy can come, too.”
Ethan sends the chopper for us. Jack and Rome join us in the cabin, having also been summoned.
“Do you know what this is about?” I ask Jack.
He’s Ethan’s second-in-command so is usually clued up.
“No, and neither does Ethan. Kaminski requested the meeting out of the blue and suggested that we have someone on hand who’s fluent in Polish.”
“Namely, me,” Rome chips in.
“Kaminski speaks perfect English. Why would he need a translator?” I wonder aloud.
Jack merely shrugs.
We arrive with plenty of time to spare, so we are all assembled in the great hall when the distant drone of an approaching helicopter heralds the arrival of our guest. Rome goes outside to do the meet and greet.
He returns with Kaminski and another man in tow, presumably the associate who requires an interpreter. That assumption is blown out of the water when Kristian introduces his companion.
“This is Basyli Bartosz, my underboss.”
Bartosz is built like a brick shithouse, as my mum would have described him. She grew up in the shadows of a Yorkshire weaving mill and had a colourful turn of phrase.
Blond with a buzzcut, Bartosz folds his arms across his massive chest and takes up his position behind his boss’s chair. “Good day, gentlemen,” he mutters. “And ma’am.” He nods in Molly’s direction. His English is accented, like that of Kaminski himself, but in no major way lacking.
“Won’t you take a seat, Mr Bartosz,” Ethan suggests.
“Thank you, but no.” He remains where he is.
The rest of us settle in chairs around the huge oak table, and Ethan begins proceedings.
“What brings you back, Kristian? I had thought our business was concluded. At least, I hoped so.”
A tacit warning not to seek to engage us in any negotiations regarding his brother-in-law’s current plight.
“It concerns that matter we discussed previously. We had unfinished business.”
“Did we?”
Kristian inclines his head. “You will be aware that Borys was arrested. I have reason to believe one of your men may have been in the vicinity at the time…” He’s referring to the long-distance kneecapping right in front of his house.
Ethan isn’t biting. “I see.” He neither confirms nor denies it. “And this concerns me how?”