Chapter 44

Early the next morning, Monica exited her bathroom and eyed Stone as he pulled on the jacket of his dark gray Armani suit.

"My, you do clean up nice. Just one little thing." She walked over and adjusted his blue-patterned tie. "That's better."

"Thank you, dear." He motioned to the door. "Shall we?"

Viv was already in the back of an Arrington golf cart when they stepped outside. They joined her and the driver took them to the front of the hotel, where an Audi A6 sedan with a driver awaited them.

"Good morning," Teddy Fay said from the driver's seat after they'd climbed in. He'd changed his appearance to that of a fit, middle-aged man, with dark brown hair going gray.

"You must be Billy's friend," Monica said.

"Call me John."

"I'm Monica."

"Pleasure," Teddy said.

She narrowed her eyes, studying him. "You and Billy wouldn't happen to be related, would you?"

"Not that I'm aware of. Why?"

"Something about your eyes." She sat back. "Sorry. Hazard of working with fine art. I tend to pick out details that others don't."

"Maybe you and Billy should take DNA tests," Stone suggested. "You might be long-lost brothers."

"I'll suggest it to him."

They made it downtown before the morning rush hour kicked into high gear, and were at Rudy's door a few minutes before six a.m.

The door was opened by a member of the Strategic Services security team. As Stone and the others entered, they could hear hammering coming from deeper inside the townhouse.

"I take it he's awake," Stone said.

The woman nodded. "He hasn't slept since you spoke to him yesterday."

"That doesn't sound like painting."

"He's building a box to hold the pictures."

Downstairs, they found Rudy crouched at the open end of a large crate, examining the inside. Leaning against the wall beyond him were three paintings.

"Rudy?" Stone said.

The man jumped at the sound of his name and whirled around. "You're…you're back."

"As we said we would be."

"What's with the women?"

"The ladies could be the difference between you serving a five- or twenty-year sentence."

"They aren't cops, are they?"

"Not anymore," Viv said.

Rudy swallowed hard.

Monica's brow furrowed. "Hold on."

She walked past Rudy to the canvases leaning against the wall and brushed the tip of a finger against one of them.

Rushing over, Rudy yelled, "Careful!"

He pushed her away and leaned in for a closer look. The spot she'd touched now sported a tiny smudge.

"Dammit."

He went over to one of his worktables, grabbed a few items, and returned to the damaged painting, then set to work fixing it.

"What tipped you off these were the fakes?" Stone asked Monica.

"I've been studying up on your mother's work, and I knew something was off."

"And here I thought I was the only one who could tell that quickly."

"Is that another way of saying I continue to impress you?"

"One could interpret it that way."

Rudy took a step back and studied his patch job, then faced the others. "Please, do not touch any of the paintings."

"If they can be ruined so easily, no one's going to believe they're real," Monica said.

"The other two are fine. This one will be dry enough by pickup time. Well, except for that spot, thank you very much."

"The box is for them?" Stone asked.

Rudy nodded once.

"Simon's still coming at noon?"

"As far as I know."

"Where are the originals?" Monica asked.

While Teddy hung back and examined the box, Rudy led Stone, Monica, and Viv to the other end of the studio, where dozens of canvases were stacked like books on a shelf. The Matilda Stones were hidden among them.

Monica sighed. "These are the real ones." She glanced at Stone, her eyes sparkling. "She was an amazing talent."

"She was."

"I'm sure she would be very happy that you found these."

"Thank you." Stone looked at Rudy. "Do you know yet if Simon's taking these with him when he picks up the fakes?"

"The reproductions," Rudy corrected him. "I do and he's not. He texted me last evening that he wants me to hold on to them until tomorrow."

"I believe we told you to let us know if he contacted you again."

"You try creating one of these overnight and tell me how much free time you have."

Teddy caught Stone's eye and tapped his watch. If Stone was going to get to the Centurion lot on time, they needed to leave soon.

"Here's how it's going to go, Rudy," Stone said. "I'm leaving, but my friends Monica and Viv are going to stay for a while, and you're going to tell them everything you know."

"Not just about these," Monica said, indicating Stone's mother's paintings. "About everything you've been involved with, from your first forgery until now."

"Are you trying to get me killed?"

"Would you rather spend the rest of your life in jail?"

Rudy looked unsure as to what would be the worse fate, but after a few seconds, he groaned. "Like I have a choice."

"Good call," Stone said.

As he and Teddy headed for the stairs, Monica pulled out her phone.

"You don't mind if I record our conversation, do you?"

Rudy groaned again.

Simon had not slept well.

First, Sticks had woken him with a call at midnight to tell him he'd be at the gallery at two p.m. It took an hour before Simon relaxed enough to doze off again. But then his dreams became one long parade of all the ways his plan could fail.

It was almost a relief when dawn came.

Before he even climbed out of bed, he called his bankers in New York and instructed them to transfer all the money in his personal account and the bulk in his business account to his Cayman Islands bank account. He left enough in the gallery's account to keep it from dipping into the red until the middle of next week. By then, he'd be living under the first of several new names, designed to eliminate any chance he would ever be found.

He didn't know yet where he would settle, but he did know his first stop would be Argentina, as it was one of a handful of countries without an extradition treaty with the U.S.

Not willing to risk being yanked off a commercial flight, he'd spent far more than he would have liked on a charter jet, set to leave at one a.m. Sunday.

After showering and dressing, he spent the next few hours checking in with his East Coast galleries, which had already opened. He didn't particularly care how they were doing, but he needed to keep up the pretense that all was normal.

At eleven-thirty, he picked up a rental cargo van and drove to Rudy's place.

A dark-haired woman with tanned skin opened the door and smiled. "You must be Simon."

"And you are?"

"I'm Rudy's girlfriend. Come in. He's expecting you."

There was something vaguely familiar about her, but he couldn't place it. Maybe he had seen her with Rudy in the past. Whatever the case, he didn't have time to worry about it. He stepped inside. "Where is he?"

"Downstairs."

The woman didn't follow him, for which he was glad. He'd much rather keep the business between him and Rudy.

The forger scowled as Simon entered the studio. "You're early."

"Are you done?"

"Yeah."

"Then what does it matter?"

"Whatever."

"I didn't know you had a girlfriend."

Something passed through Rudy's eyes too quickly for Simon to decipher.

Rudy picked up a piece of wood that would fit over the open end of the box that sat in the middle of the room. "And I don't know anything about your personal life, either. So, what does it matter?"

"Do you trust her?"

"That's a stupid question." Rudy gestured to the box. "You want me to close it, or do you need to see the paintings first?"

"That's them?"

"Why in the hell would I ask you that question if it wasn't?"

"Yes, I would like to see them first, please."

Rudy swept a hand toward the box and stepped away. "Be my guest."

Simon slipped the first painting out enough to see it and frowned. "I guess this is the best I could expect from you given the time restraints."

"Gee, thanks."

Simon pushed the painting back into the box, then repeated the process with the other two. Even a halfway competent expert would be able to tell they were forgeries, especially the last, but there was nothing to be done about it. But it really didn't matter. No expert would ever see them.

He stepped back from the box. "Now you can close it."

Ruby nailed the cover in place, then the two of them carried it upstairs.

When the girlfriend saw them, she jumped off the couch and said, "I'll get the door, honey."

"Thanks, uh, sweetheart," Rudy said.

Outside, there was a couple engrossed in conversation in front of the neighboring townhouse. They hadn't been there when Simon arrived, but neither seemed to take any notice of him or Rudy.

Simon and the forger slipped the container in the back door of the van and secured it to the wall with some rope.

As Simon was climbing into the driver's seat, Rudy said, "Next time find someone else."

Simon flashed a smile. "You're in luck, Rudy. There's not going to be a next time." He shut the door, started the engine, and drove off.

Monica walked over to Rudy as the van turned out of sight. Viv, who had been one half of the couple talking on the sidewalk, joined them.

"Did you hear what he said right before he left?" Viv asked.

Monica, Rudy's faux girlfriend, nodded. "I think Stone's theory about him going on the run is right." She turned to Rudy. "Nice job on the acting."

"Oh, um, thanks, I guess."

"Maybe prison will have a drama club."

Rudy blanched.