Paris Love Match - By Nigel Blackwell Page 0,54
it. You said you wanted to save the painting, to take it home, back to Elbistonia. For the country.”
Brunwald placed his finger over his lips. Sidney’s mouth kept moving, but no sound came out.
Brunwald’s men threw the bodies into the giant dumpster, then turned to Auguste’s car. They ripped out the seats, the carpets, and the dashboard. They tore the interior door panels out, peered into the engine compartment, and slashed open the tires. When they finished they stuffed the debris back into the car and slammed the doors. The giant shook his head. Brunwald pursed his lips and looked at Piers and Sidney.
Piers took a step forward. “We had nothing to do with those people. I’m just—”
Brunwald held his hand up. “I know, I know. A software engineer from England. Caught in a terrible mix-up. A real boo-hoo tragedy. And you’re worried, quite correctly, that your life is in danger. It isn’t a good story . . . but we may still be able to find a happy ending.”
Sidney’s mouth stopped moving and she regained her power of speech. “But we found the painting. It’s in the tube. You have it.”
“Yes, my dear. You’ve been invaluable in regaining the painting. You and your lover.”
“I’m not her lover,” said Piers.
Brunwald place a finger across his lips. “Both of you have served me well. There’s just one more thing.”
“But you wanted to recover the painting,” Sidney said, “To take it back home, Elbistonia, where it belongs.”
Brunwald gave a soft laugh. “My dear, my country is going to rack and ruin. Discipline is failing in the police and the armed services. There have been riots. People have been killed. Government buildings have been attacked. My own car was blown up. I am only thankful it was my wife, and not me, in it.”
Brunwald crossed his hands behind his back. “No, there is no going back. I have done my utmost to serve my country. To bring order where there was chaos, and what do I get in return? Awards? Honors? Recognition? The thanks of a grateful nation? No, my dear. I have received none of these things. Not from Elbistonia, nor the international community. Therefore, there is only one thing left for me to do. Retire gracefully.”
“But the painting.”
“The painting is worthless.”
Sidney looked puzzled. “It’s a fake?”
“No, my dear. It is the real thing. However, I am forced to move quickly. I really must leave Europe for a country with, shall we say, less interest in extradition.
“So, you see, I don’t actually want the painting. No, no, no. What I want is the money.” He pointed to the dumpster. “The money that gentleman was going to pay for it.”
“But you said you were looking for the painting to return it.”
Brunwald forced his lips together into a thin flat line. “You are becoming something of a bore, my dear. I no more want the painting than I need either of you two alive.”
Piers inched toward Sidney. One of the dictator’s men pointed a silenced pistol at him and shook his head with a sneer. Piers froze.
“However.” The dictator stepped toward Piers “It occurs to me that you have done well to find the painting, and I am a fair man. So, I will give you until midday tomorrow to find the money.”
“We don’t have it,” Piers said.
“So you say.” Brunwald nodded to the giant holding Sidney. “You’ve met Kuznik, I believe. He isn’t well known for his compassion. Or his patience.”
The man pushed the barrel of his gun into the soft flesh under Sidney’s chin. She gagged and squirmed. The man yanked her hair back until she stopped fighting.
Brunwald patted Piers on the shoulder. “You are a resourceful young man. I suggest you make a greater effort in your search. And be warned: if I have any indication you have contacted the police.” Brunwald drew a finger across his throat. “You get the idea, I think.”
Piers’ heart pounded as if it was trying to jump from his chest, making his voice tremulous. “But we’ve searched his apartment, his safety deposit box, and his car. You’ve even searched his car. We haven’t seen a hint of any money. What do you expect us to do?”
Brunwald smiled at Piers. “Why, find it, Mr. Chapman, find it. You have until midday tomorrow. No more. If you are unsuccessful, we will be forced to deposit your girlfriend outside Notre Dame. And I emphasize deposit.”
“But I don’t know where this money is. I haven’t got a clue. There’s