The Gilded Seal. James Twining

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The Gilded Seal - James  Twining


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      Although Jennifer felt bad about walking away from her team halfway through, she couldn’t deny that part of her was relieved. After the month she’d just had, the prospect of another two weeks of sleepless nights and weak coffee was not one she had been particularly looking forward to.

      ‘Anything else?’ Green asked.

      ‘Just one thing…’ Jennifer hesitated, not entirely sure how she should phrase this. ‘If you don’t mind my asking, sir, what’s this got to do with you?’

      Green nodded, having clearly been expecting this. After all, it usually took a bit more than a suspect painting to get the Director of the FBI personally involved in a case, let alone wading through horse shit at 7 a.m. to a briefing.

      ‘Let’s head back down,’ he suggested. ‘I need to get out to LaGuardia for nine.’

      She followed him out of the stall and back down the main aisle. A hosepipe had been left running, the end twitching nervously as water spilled across the floor, a ridge of straw and dirt forming at the edges of its wash. She stepped over it carefully, not wanting to ruin her shoes any more than they already had been.

      ‘Hudson and I read law together at Yale,’ Green explained as they picked their way down the ramp to the ground floor, his men jogging ahead to ensure the route was secure. ‘Or rather I read law and he played polo. We’ve stayed in touch ever since.’

      ‘I see.’ She fought off the dismayed look that had momentarily threatened to engulf her face. Great. Screw up and she’d carry the can. Get a result and Green would step in to look good in front of his old college buddy. Either way, she couldn’t win. In fact the best she could hope for was to get this over with as quickly as possible. ‘Did he call you?’

      ‘As soon as he found out about the second Gauguin,’ Green confirmed, pausing under the building’s arched entrance. ‘He’s convinced that his client’s version is genuine, of course. But then Cole’s client is the one with the certificate of authenticity.’

      ‘Can’t they just cancel the sale and sort it out between them?’

      ‘You want the short answer or the long one?’

      ‘Either will do.’

      ‘If they pull the lots, people will start to ask questions. Questions they can’t answer until they can identify the fake.’

      ‘They could control the story if they wanted to.’

      ‘Perhaps. But they’ve got enough on their hands fighting off all these Holocaust claims without adding to their problems. And after the anti-trust case, neither of them can risk another big scandal. That was the long answer by the way.’

      Jennifer nodded. Both firms stood accused by descendants of Holocaust victims of auctioning off art works stolen from their families by the Nazis. Nothing had been proved, but news of them both selling the same painting would hardly help restore their already battered reputations.

      ‘So I’m guessing you want this kept low key.’

      ‘Until we know what we’re dealing with.’ Green wagged his finger in agreement. ‘Ask around. See what you can find out without making too many waves. Both Cole and Hudson agree that this isn’t an isolated incident. If there’s an art forgery ring here in New York, we’d all like to know about it. I don’t want to scare anyone off until we’ve got something solid.’

      ‘One more question, sir,’ Jennifer said as Green made to step out on to the street where one of his flunkies was hovering with an umbrella, ready to escort him to the limousine’s open door. ‘Why me?’

      The question had been gnawing away at her all morning. After all, it had been nearly a year since she had last spoken to Green, and even then it had been the briefest of conversations. She knew she should feel flattered that he had selected her for this, but she had been in the Bureau long enough to suspect an ulterior motive.

      ‘Because you’re good. Because you deserve it.’

      ‘The Bureau’s full of good agents.’

      Green turned to face her, his eyes meeting hers and steadily holding her gaze. She had the sudden feeling that he was doing this deliberately, as if to try and convince her of his sincerity.

      ‘The press office got called up by some bullshit journalist a few days ago,’ Green began. ‘Leigh Lewis. Writes for one of the check-out rags – American Voice. You know it?’

      ‘No,’ said Jennifer, unsure where this was leading.

      ‘That figures,’ he sniffed. ‘Sometimes I wonder if anyone actually reads that shit. Anyway, he must have some good sources, because he was asking about the Double Eagle case.’

      Jennifer’s eyes widened in surprise. As far as she knew, that case was still classified. Highly classified. And for good reason. At its heart was the cover-up of an old CIA industrial espionage operation and a theft from Fort Knox that led all the way to the White House. No wonder Green was being cagey.

      ‘What did he know?’

      ‘Not much. But he had a name.’

      ‘Mine?’ she guessed.

      Green nodded.

      ‘Obviously we didn’t comment, but, given the extreme sensitivity of that investigation and your previous history…’

      He didn’t have to complete the sentence for her to know what he was referring to. A few years back, while on a DEA-led raid, she’d accidentally shot and killed a fellow officer, her one-time instructor from Quantico. During the inquiry it came out that they’d been seeing each other. It was a real mess. Though she’d been cleared of any wrongdoing, that hadn’t stopped the press speculation and the Bureau gossips. It certainly hadn’t stopped her being shipped out to the Atlanta field office until, in their words, things had ‘blown over’, when in reality they had just wanted her out of the way.

      ‘You don’t think Lewis is going to drop the story?’

      ‘We’re doing what we can behind the scenes. But these things take time. That’s why, when Hudson called, I thought of you. Given the circumstances it seemed like a good fit.’

      ‘I don’t follow,’ she said with a frown. ‘What circumstances?’

      ‘This case needs to be run in stealth mode. That means you’ll be flying way beneath Lewis’s radar for a few months. It’s perfect,’ he exclaimed, clearly pleased with himself for devising such a creative solution.

      Jennifer’s heart sank. Far from singling her out as she’d somewhat vainly assumed, all Green wanted was to banish her to the nursery slopes where she couldn’t do any damage. Suddenly two weeks of surveillance didn’t look quite the bum deal she’d thought.

      ‘Am I being suspended?

      ‘Of course not,’ he spluttered, a little too forcefully for Jennifer’s liking. ‘I wouldn’t have put you on this case if I didn’t think it was important and that you could do a good job. This is an opportunity, not a punishment. But until we find out what Lewis knows and where he’s getting it from, I don’t want you to take any risks. You know the potential embarrassment to the Bureau and to the Administration if the Double Eagle story gets out. We’ll all be in the firing line. This is for your own protection.’

      Somehow, Jennifer seriously doubted that. There was a rumour that Green, armed with his new wife’s money, was thinking of running for office. A tilt at the Senate, some even said. The only protection he was worried about was his own.

       FIVE

       Apsley House, London

       18th April – 5.13 p.m.

      The


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