‘If I were to tell you one of them is authentic, which one would you say it was?’
Jack bent down to look closer, moving from one to the other. ‘Is it this one?’ He gestured to the painting in the middle.
‘Excellent, Jack. You’ve got a very good eye. Now I’ve got work to do, crating them up.’
‘Do you want a hand?’
‘Why not. The crates are stacked in the room off the corridor.’ Together they carried back the wooden crates, just an inch larger in all measurements than the paintings themselves. They were laid out flat on the floor as Adam went over to the table and opened a box full of labels, all different sizes. He picked out several, placing them to one side, close to a bowl of brown liquid. ‘Cold tea,’ he said. ‘I use it to age them.’ There was also a large drawing pad, next to a bottle of ink and a handful of quill pens. Jack turned a page on the pad. It was covered in signatures. Hundreds of them.
‘That’s my homework; I do fifty to a hundred every night. Recognise any of them?’
‘Not sure. Yeah, this is Leonardo da Vinci.’
‘You are learning fast, Jack. Turn to an empty page, go on, keep going.’
Jack found the empty page as Adam picked up a black sleeping mask. He slipped it on as far as his forehead and drew up a stool. Adam chose a quill and dipped it in a pot of ink, then pulled the sleeping mask down over his eyes.
Fascinated, Jack watched as Adam, after a moment’s thought, fluently made a signature, then quickly two more, before removing the mask.
‘Pretty good huh? Forgeries are often caught out because they copy letter by letter, so it doesn’t flow. I’ve done this since I was a kid.’
‘I’m impressed.’
Adam grinned. ‘That’s nothing. Take a look at this.’ He drew Jack over to an easel and pulled off the sheet. Underneath it was a half-finished canvas depicting an exotic-looking dark-haired woman, shimmering with inlaid gold sections. Adam then went over to the table and gestured for Jack to look over a stack of clippings. All referred to a painting by Gustav Klimt which had been found on his easel when he died and eventually sold for eighty-three million pounds. Jack recognised the woman’s face from the painting he had just seen.
‘What are you going to do with it when it’s finished?’ Jack asked.
‘Wait a bit, then switch them,’ Adam laughed.
‘What about your own paintings?’ Jack asked.
It was as if he’d flicked a switch. Adam’s whole personality suddenly changed as his body tensed. He strode across the floor, picked up the painting Jack had seen through the crack in the window and hurled it across the room with such force it crashed against a wall. Not satisfied, Adam went over and kicked what was left of the frame.
‘Let me tell you, it’s just a question of time before I prove what I am capable of. No matter the cost.’
‘What do you...?’
Adam pulled himself together, clearly realising he had almost revealed too much. ‘You should go and let me get on.’ He started sorting through labels as if Jack wasn’t there.
‘Thanks for the beer,’ Jack said, turning to go.
Adam didn’t reply.
Jack arrived home to an irate Maggie. But before she could let rip, the doorbell rang and Penny hurried down the stairs to let Marius in. Jack had a brief respite while Maggie gave Marius the receipts for the furniture they’d bought and the addresses of the shops to collect it from.
‘Jack will go with you,’ she added.
‘Not a problem,’ Marius said, putting the receipts in his pocket.
‘Sit down and have a coffee,’ Penny said, as Maggie hustled Jack out of the kitchen and upstairs to his office.
‘You are one selfish bastard, you know that, Jack?’ Maggie seethed when they were alone. ‘Imagine this. I go out for a small shop in the afternoon, and by 7 p.m. I’m not home. I’ve not texted. My mobile is off. 8 p.m. I’m not home. 9 p.m. I’m not home...’
‘All right, I get it. Something cropped up.’
‘Which is fine. But, fucking hell, all it takes is one text message, Jack. I’ve been worried sick.’
‘I’m not a kid who has to give you a rundown of everything I am doing,’ he frowned.
‘Have you any idea how ill you have been? Anything might have happened to you,’ Maggie insisted. ‘It’s not just selfish, it’s reckless. Last night you slept like a log with no nightmares by the way — but I was wide awake because all I could think of was you meeting up with... what’s his name... Adam Border. The murdering drug baron.’
Jack had been prepared to apologise for not texting, but now Maggie was going too far. ‘He’s neither of those things,’ he said angrily.
‘Is he still wanted?’
‘No, the case is over... closed a couple of years ago.’
‘So why did you go back to the market then?’
‘Curiosity. He was... is... a fascinating character and a very good artist in his own right.’
‘So, what happened?’
‘We got talking. And he invited me to go round to this old school where he’s living until it gets demolished.’
‘Why is he showing you around his studio? Don’t you think that he might have an ulterior motive? You’re a police officer for God’s sake.’
Before he could answer Penny tapped on the door.
‘I’m off to bed. Charlie’s had a feed, but he’s a bit ratty, and Hannah is fast asleep.’
‘Thanks, Penny.’
She hesitated before leaving. ‘Everything all right, is it?’
‘Yes, Mum, thanks. We’ll be down in a minute.’
Maggie kissed Penny at the door and turned back to Jack. ‘I’ll just go and check Charlie, then fix something for dinner.’ Her anger seemed to have cooled. ‘Maybe you can open a bottle of wine. And then we can talk some more about your new friend.’
Josh had taken more medication and was resting on Janet’s bed, waiting for her to return home from her all-day shift at the prison. He dozed for a while as the morphine kicked in but woke up when he heard voices from the street below. From the bedroom window, he could only see the back of the terraced house, so he went into the kitchen, looking out to see Janet with a bag of groceries at the garden gate. She was talking to an elderly woman and it sounded like she was giving her safety advice about credit cards.
‘You must be careful when you use them, love. People can use a scanner now and get your card numbers when you pay for something or withdraw money at a cashpoint. You need to get one of them special credit card holders.’
‘I’ll ask my son. He’s a security guard at the Co-op.’
‘You do that, love. Stay safe now.’
Josh listened to her heavy footfall on the stairs, thinking it ironic that such a good neighbour to some poor old dear across the street could also be a major drug dealer.
Janet opened her flat door and kicked it closed before easing off her heavy shoes. She took off her coat and walked into the lounge with her groceries. When she saw Josh sitting on the sofa she didn’t flinch.
‘I know I locked my front door, so you are breaking and fucking entering. You’ve got two minutes to get out, or I am calling the police.’
‘Sit down, Janet. I don’t have long so we need to cut to the chase. I am going to make a deal with you...’
‘I am not sitting down, sunshine, and you had better shift your arse or you’re going to be arrested.’ She opened her handbag and took out her mobile phone.
‘I wouldn’t make that call, Janet. I’ve enough on you to put you away for years.’
Janet hardly even blinked. ‘I don’t know what you are bloody talking about, just get the fuck out.’
Josh shook his head, smiling. ‘Damn, you’re good, Janet. But I have your passport, plane tickets and that nice stack of cash you had squirrelled away. Without them, you won’t see your daughter or granddaughter any time soon... now put the phone down like a good girl and sit.’