Page 64 of Enduring Caine
“A habit we’ll have to break you of, I think.” He gave me a forced smile, which had a hint ofI’m sorryin it.
I frowned at him and guided his hand to his fork. “About that movie?”
Giovanni said, “No, it’s late, tesorina, and you have classes tomorrow.”
She stuck out her bottom lip, but the decision was made.
Antonio’s foot traveled to meet mine, his eyes still on me. “How about the gallery first, then I’ll take you to the top of the tower to see the stars, then we can go down to the wine cellar?”
“That sounds perfect.”
Giovanni, Cristian, and I carried our wineglasses through the hallways of the estate until we arrived at the gallery doors. The men continued to tell jokes like they had through dinner while I sipped my wine slowly—ensuring my brain stayed sharp—laughing at the right times.
It was hard to reconcile Antonio with these men, except in moments like this. Antonio’s laughter was more subdued, likely because he’d only had one tiny glass of wine. It didn’t mix well with his medication, which was far more important.
Antonio walked next to his uncle and cousin, while Cesca and I pulled up the rear. She asked me a stream of questions about my job and places I’d visited. I’d had to remind myself several times that I was not a former FBI agent, rock climber, or adrenaline junkie.
Odds were good Leonardo was in his security command center monitoring everything I said and did.
We stopped in front of the giant wooden door and Giovanni switched his wine to his other hand to reach for the number pad.
Antonio said, “Why the separate security on the gallery door? It was not like that before.”
The distraction was exactly what we needed. Giovanni turned his body toward Antonio as he punched in the numbers, letting his guard down. Antonio didn’t look down to see the numbers, but given Giovanni’s change in position, I was able to see his code.
I headed straight forThe Magdalen, but Cesca pulled my arm to a painting on the wall next to the tall window, with its heavy cream curtains.
“I did this one a couple of months ago.” She stopped in front of a canvas with half its background covered in iridescent blue, which was then crisscrossed with thick black brushstrokes, like she’d used a masonry trowel to apply it. “It’s based on a French painter whose work I saw at a gallery last year.”
The artist was Pierre Soulages. I recognized the bold style, evoking an almost prehistoric feel. Leonardo was already suspicious of me, so I held my tongue, in case he was watching—or Cristian and Giovanni were putting on an act.
The three men veered toward the Picasso I’d spotted yesterday. Antonio said something about not seeing it before, and his uncle began into a story about the auction he bought it at. At least that one was likely legal—although stolen pieces could find their way into auctions, like Antonio and I had caught last summer.
“Very nice. I love the shade of blue.” I smiled at Cesca. “Very different from your work recreatingThe Magdalen?”
“It’s easier in some ways, but harder in others. If I make a mistake with something like this one—” She pointed to her black and blue painting. “—it’s done. Scraping off the layer of paint creates a big mess.”
I swept my eyes around the paintings crowding the walls, up to the coffered ceilings, and lingered on the crystal chandelier at the center of the room. There were only the two cameras I’d noticed yesterday, angled to take in every square inch. No blind spots. This was going to be a challenge. I took a step toward my target, and Cesca walked with me.
“But if I get her eye wrong in a sketch…” We paused together in front ofThe Magdalen, and she sighed. “I can erase it and try again.”
“Was Antonio able to help?” I tilted my head, holding my wine glass close to my face, and fiddled with my necklace. How could I turn over the pendant and tap the camera without Cesca or the security camera capturing it? One or the other would have been simple, but both?
“He was amazing!” She grabbed my arm that held my necklace, jostling it in her excitement.
My stomach clenched as I gripped the pendant during the unexpected movement. I’d tested the magnet on the back of it several times, and it held tight to the metal pendant. But the shaking was a risk.
Antonio approached us. “Did I hear my name?”
“You should see how much progress I made after your lesson yesterday!” Cesca grabbed him next. “I wish you were staying longer.”
Wineglass blocking my necklace from the security camera. Check. Antonio absorbing Cesca’s attention. Check. Giovanni and Cristian discussing another piece. Check.
My heart crashed against my ribs, a subtle tremor running through my hand with the wineglass. It was time.
I flipped the necklace over and double-tapped the camera several times, then rotated to capture more of the gallery. I’d tested it in my room, finding the spot that triggered the shutter. Hopefully, that meant pictures were being taken. It was soundless and no lights flashed, so all I had was hope and a dozen attempts.
A grunt came from behind me, accompanied by a sound like squeaking wheels. I returned my pendant to its normal position, relief washing over me, and spun to see two men in head-to-toe shades of beige, navigating a dolly with three wooden crates on it. One pulled, while the other half-pushed, half-held up the crates.