Rocco stands by the window staring out at the street, and I pace in front of the fireplace while I sip my whiskey. Things are falling into place, lining up so we can stop Gallo and the men who twist the knife in his back. I’ve done my research on him. He’s not a monster. He’s just a poor soul who found himself at the end of a short rope which the actors moving to take what’s mine will hang him by if he slips up. I intend to help him slip up.
‘We’re ready when you are, Boss.’ Rocco’s reminder of what’s at stake tonight pauses me mid-stride.
‘The team is ready?’ My eyes scan the empty room thinking about how only moments ago, it hosted several of my lieutenants who are prepared to do whatever I ask of them tonight. None of them really realize the significance of this, not even Rocco. To them it’s another attempted art heist on a painting that has been stolen more times than anyone can count, all because of a legend that wasn’t ever really meant to be leaked.
‘What gives, Victor? I get the painting is important, but first you ask me for an X-ray machine, and now you’re going to send half the family into a war over some canvas with ink on it.’ Rocco scrubs a hand over his stubbled face and shakes his head. ‘I don’t get it.’
I can’t be angry at his ignorance and apathy. If it were just a painting, I’d feel the same irritation at the men trying to get at it. But it’s so much more. More than any of us ever realized, and now that I know the truth about the history of my family and how the alignment of those frames will change the future for us all, I can’t unknow it. I can’t unsee it.
I suck in a breath and turn to face him, blowing it out slowly. ‘The painting is only part of the story, Rocco. I’m going to let you in on some of these details, but only so that you don’t fuck this up.’ Turning, I set my drink on the mantel and lean on it with both hands. ‘My father has kept secrets from us, a lot of them.’
‘And?’ Rocco stands next to me, staring at me. If he is to put his life on the line for something, he has a right to know what that something is.
‘And…’ I glance up at him. ‘The secrets will change everything. The frame isn’t just full of diamonds,’ I tell him, flicking my wrist. He didn’t know about them, but his eyes don’t light up with surprise, which means he understands it’s far more important than that. ‘There is a pattern inked into the frame which can only be seen under certain lights. Along with the frame of The Sister of Mourning, the hidden ink reveals a map to something far more important than even the uncut diamonds stolen from an affluent family during World War II.’
Recognition starts to dawn on him and he stands a bit straighter, chest puffing out. ‘So this is a treasure map?’
‘No,’ I say curtly, not wanting him to get the wrong idea. ‘While there may be wealth that comes along with this, and perhaps there will be, it isn’t about that. It’s about my family history and the legacy I’m going to leave when I die. This hidden ‘treasure’ that map leads us to is about shifting our reputation forever. It’s about making the Costa name what it should have always been.’
There are still questions in his eyes, but he doesn’t speak as I tell him what I know. ‘I’ve placed a tracking device within the frame, put there before I even took it to the gallery. I’m not risking losing it again. For a long time, I thought it was just the painting, our family legacy.
‘But after having dinner with my father, I realize there is more. The diamonds are enough to make me want the frame, but with the alignment of the two frames, I can finally unearth the truth about my ancestors and pave a path into my future that is untainted by centuries of bloodshed.’ I’m determined to do just that, to give Isabella the life she deserves too, one I offered her but had no clue how to obtain until I began decoding the arrangement of the diamonds and the hidden ink on the frame.
‘So we follow the tracker?’ Rocco asks. He narrows his eyes at me, and I know what he’s thinking.
‘You do not lay a finger on Agent Marco Gallo. Do you understand me? He is not the root of this. This painting has been stolen over and over because of this reason. They want the map because they want what’s mine. They assume that treasure is gold and jewels, a spoil to make them wealthy. To me, it holds more value than every treasure in the world.’ I reach for my drink and sip it while Rocco shifts and crosses his arms over his chest.
‘So the Interpol agent isn’t the one we’re after.’ His musing aloud matches my thoughts.
‘You’re correct. Someone has put him up to it. He’s had a good career, done a lot of good things, and suddenly, he switches sides and wants to play the bad guy?’ I shake my head. ‘I don’t believe it. The minute he gets that painting, he’s taking it to whoever holds the gun to his head, and that is the person we want. Follow the trail and catch the real thief.’
The whiskey burns my throat as I finish the glass, and Rocco nods, understanding his marching orders.
‘Yes, sir.’
‘And Rocco?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Keep an eye on Isabella too. The only thing more precious to me than the artwork is her. If he so much as lays a finger on her, I’m to hear about it.’ I have my own part to play in this madness. I want to find redemption, pay the devil’s price and be free, but if it means losing Isabella, I’m not sure it’s a price I’m willing to pay.
‘Yes, sir,’ he says resolutely, and he ducks out of my living room. I stroll to the window where he stood watching and I see them climbing into the cars. They’ll sit on the gallery and watch. Their task is to ensure her safety and follow the paintings if or when Marco shows up to steal them. With Vitale out of the picture, Gallo is the only one left to do this dirty work.
My phone chimes, and I pull it out, half expecting it to be Isabella calling me for more reassurance. She’s not happy with the position she’s in, and I hope to rectify that immediately.
But it’s not her. It’s my father.
I swipe right to answer, and holding the phone to my ear, I say, ‘Yes.’
‘Victor, what’s this nonsense I hear about you staking out the gallery? I thought I told you to get that painting back to my hands immediately.’ His anger is obvious from his tone, and I’ve half a mind to hang up on him.
‘If we back down now, we will look weak, Papà. You know that. The Interpol agent is going to make his move tonight. I have this under control. We have to track him back to the men who are in charge and take this seriously. If not, they will keep coming, and eventually, the secret of the hidden message in the frame will become public knowledge and not just lore.’ I turn away from the window, prepared to pick Isabella up and whisk her away from the gallery for the night to let things play out with her safely by my side.
‘Should I go down to that gallery myself and get the painting and bring it here?’ He’s fuming, raising his voice, and I chuckle.
‘It’s been a long time since you did any heavy lifting, Papà. Just take a pill and go to bed. It will all be over soon, and the painting will be back in my hands tomorrow. You’ll see.’ I’m so confident my men will help me recover both paintings that I’m willing to risk angering my aging father. ‘Rest well, Papà. I’ll call you in the morning.’
Ending the call, I slide my phone into my pocket and head out. The driver is waiting for me to drive me to the gallery, and Isabella is probably biting her nails hoping for a miracle. I, however, feel as calm as I’ve ever been. Things are lining up just as I expected them to, and by this time tomorrow, I’ll know where the map is leading us. And it can’t come a moment too soon.
