The Flinck Connection (Book 4) (Genevieve Lenard) (13 page)

To my utter consternation, the three men’s body language relaxed and their expressions warmed. I had thought my confession would have irritated them, yet they were looking at me with affection. I didn’t understand this.

Colin took my hand and pulled lightly. “Manny and Phillip can take care of the paintings and take all the credit for that while we go home.”

I studied Colin’s expression and noticed only his usual derision when speaking to Manny. There was no annoyance at my insistence on organising the files. Fully intending to ask him to explain this inconsistent behaviour, I agreed and got ready to go home.

“When did she say she’ll be back?” I was relieved that we had heard from Francine. Colin and I had left several messages for her to return our calls or at the very least send an email that she was well. We had not heard from her last night, nor this morning. Not until she had phoned Colin a few minutes ago.

“She said she’ll be back as soon as she gets the source.” Colin sighed. “She sounded a bit out of it, displaced.”

“What does that mean?”

“You know how she gets when she thinks she has a brilliant theory and she starts losing touch with reality? Well, she sounded like that.”

“She also sounds like that when she’s working on a solution to a complex computer or internet security problem.” I didn’t consider her absentmindedness strange. Maybe because I had a personal understanding of losing myself in my work.

“She said you should look at your emails. She sent you something.”

Colin and I were in my viewing room, working through Minister Savreux’s finances, scrutinising the folders for anything suspicious. After five hours, we hadn’t found anything that merited a deeper look. Minister Savreux had worked wisely, albeit conservatively, with his finances. The data portrayed him as a man living within his means, regularly donating to a few charities as well as an animal shelter.

I turned to my computer and opened my email programme. Three new emails were in my inbox, one from Francine. I clicked on it, read the single sentence telling me the attachment contained more financial information on Savreux, and downloaded the attachment.

Before I could open the new files, Colin frowned and leaned towards the monitors displaying several spreadsheets. “Do we know Savreux’s mother’s name?”

I changed windows and scrolled through the numerous pages of personal information we had on Minister Claude Savreux. I found what I was looking for and put the article on one of the other monitors. “Odette Savreux is his mother. She has Alzheimer’s and was declared mentally unfit six years ago. The court appointed Savreux to take care of her finances and wellbeing. In this interview, he talked about the lack of decent care for the elderly, not only in France, but in most of Europe. He said that he considered himself immensely fortunate that he had the financial means to put his mother in a fantastic care centre, but he was concerned about those without the finances to do so.”

“A typical politician thing to say,” Vinnie said from the door. I turned and was pleased to see the large man’s posture almost back to normal. It was no surprise that he still favoured his left side ever so slightly. That side had all the bruised ribs. Most of the swelling on his face had gone down, leaving dark bruises behind. I had to admit I was impressed with how quickly he was recovering.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“Aw, Jen-girl. You always make me feel so welcome.” He started to laugh softly, but grunted and folded into himself. “Son of a cheap, ugly gun. This hurts.”

“Your ribs were bruised. It will still take three to four weeks to heal. You should take care to not do anything strenuous. That includes laughing.” I had done some research since Vinnie continued to insist on not going to the hospital.

“Such a ray of sunshine you are, Jen-girl.” Vinnie walked in and sat down carefully in the third chair in my room. “I cannot stay cooped up at home for another day. And I know you guys are doing all sorts of interesting things, so I thought I’d come in and lend you my expertise.”

“Do you know if they found the men who attacked you?”

He shook his head. “Nope. The old man said they were gone when Daniel’s team got to that little street. There was no trace of them.”

I wasn’t surprised. Dukwicz had been exceptionally elusive. If those men were associated with him, it stood to reason they had a similar skill set. Another concern entered my mind. “Where’s Nikki?”

“In Phillip’s office. She’s helping Tim with some something that I really don’t care about.” He nodded at the monitors. “What are you up to?”

Colin gave Vinnie an update while I opened the first of the five files Francine had attached. It was Savreux’s mother’s finances. I saw nothing out of the ordinary. It seemed she was quite a wealthy woman. If he’d had full access to her money for the last few years, he had been dealing very responsibly with it.

“Everything we have indicates that Savreux was a respectable man.” I wasn’t pleased with this conclusion, but I couldn’t refute the evidence in front of me. “There is so far nothing to make me suspicious of him. Not even that direct message to Nikki suffices, since we never found the Flinck in his house. On paper he appears to have been an average man with a rather conservative lifestyle.”

“But?” Colin asked.

“But it doesn’t explain the expensive items found in his house.”

“Just say it, Jen-girl.” Vinnie smiled. “You have a gut feeling.”

I ignored him and opened another file. This spreadsheet triggered my curiosity. Colin complained for the nineteenth time this morning that I was changing windows too quickly. Unlike the other times, I didn’t slow down.

The numbers flowed as streams through my mind, connecting and separating at certain points. It started connecting to numbers from different files I had earlier looked at. The light this new data shone on all the numbers turned the previously innocuous information into something different altogether.

I closed my eyes and focussed on Mozart’s Violin Concerto in E flat major. Having the soothing concerto in the background of my mind helped me sift through this new information to get to that one element which would provide the key to understanding if and how the different finances were connected.

“Jenny?” Colin’s firm touch on my arm brought me back. Thirty-five minutes had passed. “Phillip’s brought us Chinese takeout for lunch.”

“Later.” I lifted both hands when he frowned. “No. You will want to see this. I promise I will eat after I show you.”

“Show us what, Doc?” Manny was in the doorway, a fast food box in his one hand, chopsticks in the other. “This better be good, because I’m hungry and this food smells delicious.”

“I think I know where the Flinck is.”

“You what?” Manny handed his food to Nikki, who was peering around him, and walked into the viewing room. “Where is it?”

I turned to Colin. “Preservation rooms are used for old and valuable artworks, right?”

“Right.”

“Quite a few of our clients have preservation rooms.” Phillip was now standing next to Manny. “As insurers, we prefer that above expensive pieces hanging around the house. Not only
does it protect the art inside a controlled environment, it adds another layer of security.”

“But there is no preservation room in Savreux’s house,” Manny said.

“A preservation room needs strict climate control, right?” When both Colin and Phillip nodded, I pointed at the last file I had opened. “Would a wine cellar do?”

Phillip’s facial muscles revealed his thought process from doubtful to thoughtful to agreement. “Absolutely.”

“I see I have to repeat myself.” Manny was losing patience. “There is also no cellar in Savreux’s house.”

“No, but he leased a wine storage unit in some self-storage warehouse.” It took me less than a minute to locate the storage service’s website and display it on one of the monitors. On the home page they had links to their numerous services. On offer were lockers for those with smaller wine collections, or rooms for those with extensive collections. “They advertise their high-end service as uniquely designed spaces for each wine collector’s individual needs.”

“Bloody hell,” Manny said when I clicked on the link that took us to the page with photos of specially designed rooms. “Look at those cellars. The place looks like a bloody five-star hotel.”

“Just like art, there are collectors who buy wine as an investment,” Phillip said. “These rooms are extraordinary.”

“Did Savreux have a room like this, Doctor Face-reader?”

“Yes. It was registered in the name of Odette Roche, but I believe that he was the one who rented it.” I briefly explained about Minister Savreux’s mother and his control over her estate. “There are a few bank accounts in her name, and three in the name of Odette Roche. It was easy enough to check and confirm that Roche was his mother’s maiden name. It is
impossible that she opened the three accounts, as it was done after she was declared mentally incompetent.”

“Devious,” Manny said.

“These three accounts have had the biggest amounts deposited and withdrawn. Both as cash and electronic transactions. Of those electronic transfers, I recognised two external account numbers that I had seen in the Libreville Dignity Foundation’s finances. The same two accounts sending and receiving money from Odette Roche also transferred a combined seven hundred thousand euro to the Foundation two years ago when they were about to go bankrupt.”

Manny rubbed his hands hard over his face. “So Savreux used his mother to launder his money. Bastard. I suppose we will find transfers to and from Samoan bank accounts.”

“You suppose correctly.” There were many corresponding account numbers between the Foundation’s financial records and all of Savreux’s financial data.

“We need to get into that storage unit,” Colin said.

Before I could comment on his nonverbal cues, Manny shook his index finger at Colin. “No, you don’t. Don’t even think about it, Frey. You are not breaking in there.”

“Then you better find a legal way for us to enter.”

“We cannot be seen anywhere near Savreux’s case. The moment a search warrant traces back to me, every single one of us will be knee-deep in crap. And we might lose any advantage we have at the moment.”

“What about asking Daniel to get his friend to organise a search warrant?”

Manny thought about it. “No. His friend already took a huge risk in sharing the investigation with us. He’s too low in the hierarchy to make this happen and survive the aftermath.”

“That leaves my option.” Colin’s chin lifted and his shoulders pulled back, signs of confidence or in some cases arrogance.

“Forget about that, Frey.” Manny rubbed his face again. “I have a few people owing me favours. I’ll see what I can make happen.”

I considered this topic closed and moved on to the next one. “From the three accounts in Odette Roche’s name, he’s been paying very high monthly premiums to GCFS.”

“What’s GCFS?” Manny asked.

“It’s an insurance company similar to Rousseau & Rousseau,” I said.

“That’s Alfred La Ruche’s company.” Phillip frowned.

“Aw, dammit. I haven’t even asked you to check out Savreux’s insurance.” Manny lifted his eyes to the ceiling and shook his head, then looked at Phillip. “Seems like we have it now. How well do you know this Alfred? Does he provide services to criminals?”

“I consider him quite a good professional friend. As far as I know, he doesn’t have anyone who deals in anything illegal on his client list.” There were small but distinct indicators of doubt on Phillip’s face.

“Is it possible that he never told you about that side of his business?”

“Anything is possible in this business.” His smile was sad. “Money is a powerful friend and enemy. Everyone has a price. Tempt somebody with the right amount or other motivator, and they will compromise their personal principles.”

“I don’t think Jen-girl has a price.” Vinnie winked at me. “She’s the only one I know with iron-cast principles.”

Manny scowled at Vinnie. I wondered if it was because Vinnie had, by implication, told Manny that he would compromise his principles. One of the traits I respected most in Manny was his strong belief in right and wrong. In the last eighteen months, I’d had to adjust the previously immovable position I’d held on the black and white divide I had judged everyone by. Colin, Vinnie and Francine had made me realise that there was no one rule that applied to everyone equally.

“I’ll set up a meeting with Alfred today,” Phillip said. “I hope he will prove me right that he doesn’t know of Savreux’s illegal activities. I’ll ask him about this insurance account. What were the monthly payments?”

I highlighted those payments on the spreadsheet. “As you can see, it increased a few times over the past three years.”

“That would happen if something of high value is added to the inventory. It would push up the monthly payments.” Phillip tilted his head. “These are incredibly high payments.”

“Could this be for the content of Savreux’s house?” Manny asked.

“Most definitely not. Not even with the expensive watches and other items Genevieve had catalogued. This kind of payment is what my clients pay when they have artwork or collectables worth more than fifty million euro.”

Vinnie whistled. “That’s… that’s… no, that’s just wrong.”

“When you speak to Alfred, ask him if it possible to give us a copy of the inventory,” Manny said. “It would be helpful info. What else do you have, Doc?”

“That’s it for now.” I stretched my neck to the side. My back and neck muscles were tight from tension and lack of movement.

“Let’s have lunch then. Maybe the food will still be warm enough to eat.”