Page 79 of Enduring Caine
“What’s inside?” I capped the mascara and moved on to blush. It always reminded me of war paint, preparing me for battle with a man, with a museum curator, with a repair vendor.
He shrugged. “All I know is there’s a painting forty six centimeters by sixty-one. They gave me some rough notes on what’s on it.”
“There were three crates. I looked but couldn’t see details on the shipping labels. One was smaller than the others and might hold something that size.” I stepped back from the mirror. Before the New Year’s Eve ball, my sister and I had gone to a professional for hair and make-up—she hadn’t gone to the ball, it was just a fun sister’s day—and I looked nothing like that. Femme fatale I was not.
“You’re so beautiful.”
I flicked my eyes toward him, catching the full-body scan in progress. “I said stop that, Vin.”
He’d had his chance a long time ago. “I wish you’d left yesterday. Things are getting bad here and I’m worried something might happen to you.”
Business. I could always do business. “Have you talked to your handler about the crates?”
“I left a message in my dead drop location this morning. Now I wait.”
“And if you don’t hear back?” I packed up my toiletries bag and leaned a hip against the counter.
“I’m not sure. Part of me thinks I should take the painting and get out. At least we’ve saved it that way.”
“Is there any chance the TPC doesn’t want it anymore? Or that the one they’re looking for isn’t in those crates?” Elliot had told me Giovanni wasn’t behind the smuggling ring. Involved with it, but he wasn’t the one they were after. Maybe Vincenzo had been cut loose when they realized that? No, they would have gotten him out. They were still monitoring messages coming out of the estate, so the operation remained active.
He shoved his hands into his pockets, staring down at the floor. “I’m glad you’re here. It’s been tough since the communications slowed so much. I know I keep making you uncomfortable, but…”
There was nobutabout it. He did make me uncomfortable. Our history had made me keep Antonio at arm’s length for longer than I should have. And I wasn’t about to let Vin off the hook for that just to make him feel better. “I can pass a message along after we go, if that might help?”
“Did you hear they found a camera in the gallery last night?”
I nodded. Antonio and I agreed it would be best to acknowledge he’d told me about the camera, but that I knew only that. “Antonio mentioned it.”
“Between that camera and Johann, I may have to leave as well. I’m not sure if I want to risk them pinning either of those things on me.”
Antonio and I had been worried enough about what they’d do with me if they discovered I was talking to an FBI agent. What would they do if they found someone was undercover? “How many positions did you have before this one?”
“I originally worked in an office in Tuscany. They had me pose as a bodyguard four years ago during a sting operation. My job was to identify the painting a thief was trying to sell, but they felt my appearance suited a bodyguard better than a buyer.” He folded his arms and shrugged. “It’s a long and winding story, but I did a few more of those and it landed me here two years ago.”
“Before or after Giovanni’s big change?”
“After. Protecting the family and property is simple work, but if I’d had to get involved in…” His gaze fell from me to the counter and he gave a little shudder. “From what I’ve heard, I don’t think I could have handled it before. Your boyfriend’s family is dangerous.”
No kidding. “But that’s the job you signed up for, right?”
He nodded slowly, still not looking at me. Avoiding me because of his worries or because Antonio was right and he was lying to me again?
“How did you get in here? What was the cover story?” I picked up my bag, ready to leave the bathroom.
“It was another undercover job where I was working as a security guard for an antiques dealer in Rome, one with a lot of looted antiquities moving through his store.” He shoved off the door and walked further into the room, letting me by. “Giovanni was supposed to arrange transport for some pieces, but his illness delayed the process and someone else took care of them.”
I stopped by the bed where my suitcase lay. “Someone else?”
He waved it off. “The original plan was to gather information about the dealer, but when the Ferraros declared they were getting out of the business, they had a lot of turnover and it was too good an opportunity to pass up.”
The story sounded true, but Antonio had me doubting every word coming out of Vin’s mouth. I had to find out if I could trust him or not, so I pressed for more. “Why, if he was getting out of the business?”
“He didn’t stop everything right away and we were hoping he’d be more willing to give up information on the other organizations he was working with.”
“I don’t understand. You’ve been here for two years, and you barely hear anything from your handlers. Why haven’t they moved you somewhere else?”
He settled against the small desk under the television, watching as I moved items aside to fit the toiletries bag into the suitcase. “The first year, I was under too close of scrutiny to learn much. This past year’s been more fruitful. I drop information, names, and whatever else I discover. If none of it was useful, I expect they would have pulled me out a long time ago. Then word came that this new painting—the one we suspect is in the crates—was being delivered, and I received the message a month ago that they want it.”