Side by side, the paintings would reveal the truth. One of them is a fake. Together, however, they will never be. Isabella has outdone herself this time, taking the Sister of Mourning painting to the next level by showing how she’s perfected Raphael’s style and even the weight of his brush strokes. Framed similarly to the original, this forgery will pass muster, and when it’s finally in my possession and Antony fences it, Giani won’t be able to sell the original for fear of losing his reputation when he finds out Isabella has directly disobeyed his order to display the original and put it in the vault overnight.
‘It’s beautiful, isn’t it?’ I recognize the voice but don’t turn to look at the man. Judging by the volume, I’d say he stands just out of line of sight to my left where he can see the painting but not be picked up on the camera. It’s wise of him, especially with what we have planned.
‘She is a beautiful artist, very skilled,’ I respond, knowing to whom I speak. He may have had her at one point, but she belongs to me now, even if she doesn’t know it yet.
‘I want my cut,’ he says curtly, almost cutting me off.
I remain calm and neutral. I knew this time would come, and I’ve been waiting for it. When you pay authorities enough money to spring an inmate then force him to do that which he’s best at, he tends to get curious about his cut. Nicola Vitale thinks he deserves more than his freedom, and that’s okay. He has the right to his own opinion, but not my money.
‘You’re breathing right now. That’s your cut.’ Sliding my hands into my pants pockets, I continue to watch the painting. I’ve given my orders, and he knows he belongs to me now to do my bidding. I may be twisting the knife a little, but a man’s freedom is essential. Without it, he would languish behind bars wasting away until death. Thanks to me, he gets to see the light of day every day now.
‘I am not your pawn, Costa. I know the frame holds uncut gems, and I know you are going to make a killing. I want my cut.’
Lucky for me, Mr. Vitale is a slow learner. He’s come to this knowledge even more slowly than I have, and because of it my painting, and the precious frame my father insists is worth more, are safe. Had he known about the diamonds when he lifted it, he would never have given it to me.
‘Your cut is to be out of prison and alive. Don’t tempt me to make either of those things change.’ I flick a glance at him and dip my chin. ‘The sister will be in my hands in the next two hours or you will go back to prison. Do you remember how you got out?’ I can’t see him, but I know where he’s standing. I know the blind spots in this gallery better than anyone. I’ve studied them thanks to the stream my men provided for me to watch Isabella.
He huffs, and I hear him growl in frustration. ‘They’re stolen from a World War II family, Costa. Powerful Europeans. Your family stole them and hid them in the frame. I know more than you think.’ I bristle at his words but keep my expression placid. Perhaps he knows more than me for now, but the power is still all mine and I’m not letting him even think he’ll win.
‘If you bring me the sister when I requested it, we’ll talk. Maybe one percent… Or maybe I’ll let you live.’ My chest tightens at the idea that there are more secrets behind these paintings than I could ever have imagined. I wonder if my father knows the diamonds were stolen. I have to look into this, and I have a historian who can help me identify facts for accuracy’s sake. I won’t just take Vitale’s word on it.
It’s bad enough the secrets hidden in his past have gotten me tangled up with someone I know has been threatening Isabella. This man and his corrupt friend, Marco Gallo, are trying my patience.
‘And if I don’t?’ he asks calmly, a challenge. I’m tempted to look him in the eye as I respond.
‘Then I will hunt you down and make you wish you were never born, and don’t think I’m unable to do that.’ My patience has gone. I’m not interested in conversing with an extortionist. I know what sort of man he is and I knew it before I sprang him. He’s going to do as I say or he’s going to regret it.
‘Bring it to me and we’ll talk.’ I turn and walk away knowing he has his marching orders. Isabella and Paolo are in their workstation. Giani is God only knows where, probably sniffing around behind a wealthy heiress or something. And I’m headed to my car where I can wait for Vitale to bring me the artwork I know will fetch me millions.
I feel badly that it’ll pinch Isabella a little, force her hand into something darker than she desires for her future, but we all play a part in this game. And if she plays her cards right, when I really do go straight and turn my family’s bad name into something of reputation, I’ll take her along with me.
As I stroll through the front doors, I hear the faint hum of the silent alarm being tripped before the shouting of voices. Nicola Vitale is my hands and feet, the black fingers of death to the art world, but the ray of sunshine that signifies hope to the rest of the world.
I can’t allow thieves to lay hands on my frame now that I know it’s loaded with precious gems, which is why I’ve targeted the Sister of Mourning painting. Its frame is valueless, only a shell to display the real gem of Isabella’s talent. Later, when I have the authentic Raphael back in my diamond frame, I can house it safely in my home and sell the forgery via Antony. For now, I will wait for word from Vitale that the work is finished and finally be able to valuate Isabella’s work.
If she’s as good as I believe, we have a definite future.
