Art and Murder by Don Easton Page B

take to the bank. Still, it’s enough collateral for me to give you incentive to find a way to reimburse me, even if I do kill these two idiots.”
    â€œPlease, don’t harm them,” Roche begged.
    â€œThat will depend on you,” Jack said. “I will give you two hours to decide on what you can offer to rectify the wrong you’ve committed. If I don’t hear from you at exactly seven-thirty, don’t bother calling later because there won’t be anyone who could answer. Same thing if you phone anyone to try to rescue them. If I or my associates see someone, I’ll kill these two idiots immediately and take what’s in front of me.”
    â€œI don’t have Klaus’s number!” Roche’s voice revealed his panic. “He lives there and will be coming home after he sees the doctor.”
    Jack remained silent.
    â€œPlease, don’t hurt them,” said Roche again, speaking rapidly. “I’m sure we can come to some form of —”
    Jack hung up. Let the games begin.

Chapter Fourteen
    Jack turned his attention back to the crate and caught the worried look Bojan gave Anton as he slid the painting out and unwrapped it. It was an image of a clown with a white face and a teardrop under one eye. It reflected his own emotions.
    He realized he’d been lost in his own thoughts when he became aware that both Anton’s and Bojan’s gazes were fixed on him. “Why are you staring at me?” he yelled. “You thinking of trying something?”
    â€œNo,” replied Anton. “I was only watching what —”
    â€œShut up!” Jack put the duct tape back over Anton’s mouth and then over his and Bojan’s eyes, before using his phone to photograph the painting, passports, and jewellery. He then sent the photos to Rose, along with a text telling her he’d contacted Roche and that he was expecting to hear back from him at seven-thirty.
    Jack was placing the painting back into the crate when Laura called to say she had arrived at the front gate. He ripped the tape off Bojan’s mouth, then put a gun to his head, saying, “You have a choice. Give me the number for the keypad at the front gate or I’ll ram it open with you tied to the front bumper.”
    Moments later, Laura entered and parked behind the workshop as Jack had directed. The first thing she saw upon entering the workshop was Clive’s body on the floor.
    â€œBack here!” Jack called.
    Laura walked into the back room and saw two men lying hog-tied on the floor. Next to them stood Jack, who gestured to a stack of cocaine, along with a cardboard box and a flat wooden crate. “Take a look,” he said.
    His voice sounded hollow and Laura knew he was hurting inside. She fought the urge to tell him the French police officer’s murder wasn’t his fault. Her eyes met his and she saw the muscle in his jaw ripple. His eyes flashed anger as he put his finger to his lips.
    Laura nodded. Message received.
    â€œGot thirty-two kilos of coke and enough jewellery to keep you happy for a lot of birthdays,” said Jack, continuing to play the role he’d set out for himself.
    Laura looked at the cocaine stacked on the workbench alongside several phones and a couple of passports. She then looked in the cardboard box and saw it was filled with expensive watches and cloth bags no doubt containing diamond rings and gold jewellery. She looked at the two captives again, then at Jack. A dead police officer in Paris, a dead dope dealer here … and this? She made a palms-up gesture, silently asking, What should we do?
    * * *
    Jack’s phone went off, and he held up a hand indicating Laura to wait while he answered the call. It was Rose. He left Laura to watch the captives as he moved to the opposite end of the building.
    â€œWhat have you got?” he asked abruptly.
    â€œSpecial ‘O’ located Klaus at VGH. He’s sitting with