Lucky Ce Soir, page 26
Two against one.
“Aren’t you glad I showed up?” Sinjin asked with a typical male sense of indispensability.
“Overkill, but it is nice to have someone to talk to.”
“Someday, you will give me my proper due.”
“Oh, for sure. You can count on it.” We each imagined diametric scenarios—that I knew—and it made me smile.
Sinjin bought into his own fantasy. “You are, quite frankly, the most difficult woman to pin down.” He stayed low so no one could see him.
“You pinched that bottle, didn’t you?” I stared straight ahead so Frank Liu wouldn’t think anything amiss…or more amiss than being drugged and kidnapped, which I sorta seemed to have more energy about than he did. Someday, I’d teach him the error of his assumptions.
“Pinched? I’m offended,” he said, oozing pride.
“Very clever, but you’ve made a powerful enemy.”
Sinjin didn’t seem overly bothered. “Tell him to take a number.” Noticing the driver was a bit unenthusiastic in his job, Sinjin pushed the gun through the small space between the back of the seat and the headrest. No doubt the driver could feel its cold threat at the top of his spine. “Drive. Act normal.”
“Frank Liu seemed a bit shaken that the ’94 estate Laurent was missing. It had been there—dust had settled around the bottle, leaving a circle in its absence. So, if not pinched, how would you characterize your being in possession of the bottle?” I was assuming, but it was a pretty safe assumption.
“I reacquired what was mine.”
Assumption confirmed. “Yours?” I didn’t know the exact value of that bottle, but I knew it sold for prices rivaling Domaine de la Romanée Conti, so it had to be serious six figures.
The driver eased us down the long curving driveway until night protected us from view. Sinjin popped up, taking the seat behind the driver, his gun still nestled against the man’s spine.
I didn’t need to look at Sinjin to see him waffling—that whole love-hate relationship he had with the truth.
“Let me go out on a limb here,” I said as the driver wheeled us right onto a blacktop road barely wide enough for one car, let alone two. Night disguised us. I swiveled to look behind. No one followed. Another bit of misogynistic arrogance. Sometimes men made it way too easy. “I’m betting you stole that wine from someone in Hong Kong, someone with fewer scruples and more power than you. You’ve probably stolen wine from him before. Probably a lot of it. But he’s vastly wealthy with a huge wine inventory, so he never noticed. Until you took the wrong bottle—three of them, to be exact.” Out of sight of the chateau, I swiveled to look at him. “How’m I doing?”
The driver let off the gas. Sinjin pressed the gun in farther. “Drive. To Paris.”
“You’ve got most of it.” Sinjin didn’t elaborate, goading me to finish the story.
“Okay. But there was a complication. I’m betting you had both sides of the deal, didn’t you? You sold it to him, then stole it to resell. He discovered the theft. You couldn’t return it to him, which is all he asked, because the bottles were fakes.” I swiveled around for another look at Sinjin. “You needed the real stuff, so that’s why you got in with the wine thieves. There were more than three bottles of the vintage you were looking for squirreled away in the Bouclets’ wine cellar. But the thieves double-crossed you. Without that wine to deliver to your Hong Kong heavy, your ass is a grape. How’m I doing now? Any better?”
“A bit coarse and lacking nuance, but accurate.”
As my feeble brain struggled to keep up, I turned back to face forward, one eye on the road, one ear on Sinjin. A sign flashed by in a blur as the headlights caught it. “That was the turnoff for the A-10 to Paris.” I swiveled around to catch it behind us. My ribs screamed. I ignored them. Time to retake the upper hand.
I cocked my elbow and let it fly as I turned back around, uncoiling myself. My aim impeccable, I caught the driver on the nose. A fine mist of blood coated the inside of the windscreen. Instinctively, he cupped his nose, keeping one hand on the wheel.
For good measure, Sinjin cold-cocked him with the pistol.
I grabbed the wheel as the car swerved. Careful not to overcontrol, I kept the car on the road…barely.
The driver sagged against the door. Sinjin reached forward along the driver’s door, popping it open. Without a moment of remorse, I shoved, and the driver tumbled into the darkness. I slipped over to take the wheel. “There. Much better.”
“We’re a good team.” Sinjin leaned over, his chin almost on my shoulder.
I reached a hand back, palm up. “The gun?”
His breath hissed in my ear and warmed my cheek. “We’re on the same side of this fight.”
He’d be wrong about that in the end, but I didn’t disabuse him of the notion. “Then, as the weaker sex, I should have the firepower to even the odds.”
“What a bunch of malarkey,” he said with a chuckle, but he handed over the gun, which I stuffed in my waistband.
His acquiescence told me two things: he needed something from me, and he had another gun. “The wine?”
This time he didn’t put up a fight, handing the bottle over. I nestled it under the front seat. After snagging my phone, I put it in my pocket and stuffed my bag in beside the wine. “You made sure Liu knew the wine was fake, didn’t you?”
Sinjin sighed. “You hold me in such low esteem.” His voice held hurt.
My gut told me I was in over my head. To lie that well…that was championship stuff, and I barely made the B Team. “Cut the bullshit. You figured he would take care of the counterfeiters, giving you a bit of vicarious revenge. “You told him, didn’t you? That the bottle was a fake.”
“Seemed a good way to get both ends playing against the middle.”
“While you did a snatch-and-grab.”
“I take care of people who set me up.” The threat speared through the simple phrase.
He’d work with me as long as it suited him. I had what he needed, and that meant I’d stay out of his sights…for now. “I have a feeling there’s a lot more of the fake stuff floating around than you realize. Why’d you steal Mr. Liu’s bottle? It’s a fake and worth nothing.” I held up a hand, stopping the reply I saw forming. “The world of fine wine collecting is small; the big players know one another. He threatened to go to the Hong Kong guy and offer you for the bounty of a favor.”
“As of now, the man in Hong Kong doesn’t have proof that I tried to swindle him. He only knows I pinched the wine to resell. If I make the deal right, he might forgive me. But if he knew the original was fake…”
“You’d be fish food.” Curiously, right now the thought left me remarkably unmoved. “Where’d you get the fakes?”
“From a wine merchant in Paris. He thinks he is transacting business in obscurity, hiding his digital footprint under many layers of misdirection.”
My heart sank. “Fabrice.” It made sense. Who better to get the fake stuff into wine collections than the guy who sold the real stuff?
“Playing with the big boys of Bordeaux and getting caught in the crossfire can have a serious negative impact on the bottom line,” Sinjin explained. “Some guys get creative. Counterfeiting fine wine is a multi-billion-dollar business these days. The window is closing as collectors are wising up, but many wine collections will prove to be worth far less than assumed.”
“And far less than they cost. Does he know you’ve fingered him?”
“No.”
Of course, he’d be saving that little tidbit to use as leverage when he needed it. “So Fabrice is unaware his secret is out?”
“Far as I know.”
“How did you ferret out Fabrice?” Even though I knew the answer—I’d seen his digital operation firsthand. I asked to keep him bragging while I plotted.
“As you know, I have many resources.”
“A major player on the dark web, I have no doubt.” He didn’t argue. “Any idea where Fabrice gets his inventory?”
“Locally sourced, best I could tell. But I haven’t found the source yet.”
“You mean you haven’t followed Liu to the source yet.”
“A good CEO knows how to delegate.”
“Right.” I slowed then made a U-turn. “We have to go back.”
“You can’t be serious! I barely escaped with my life! The man may keep his henchmen out of sight, but he has an army back there.”
“He has Teddie.”
“The bloke who got shot in the thigh in Macau?”
The memory arced through me in a searing bolt of what-ifs. “Yeah.”
“But you are to marry another.”
So simple, yet so not. I resisted diving down that personal rabbit hole. “Shouldn’t we call the police?”
“They would be of little help. I think they’d be reluctant to bother an esteemed citizen this late at night. Teddie’s not missing. And you have no proof he’s being kept against his will.”
“And there’s the whole issue of you being a fugitive. But I agree. Not to mention, it’d take too long.”
Sinjin relaxed a bit, knowing I wouldn’t be summoning the police. After all, he was on the lam. Would accepting his help be aiding and abetting? Who knew? At this point, who cared?
With both hands on the wheel, I squinted into the darkness. What I’d give for a little light. Feeling a bit more confident, I wheeled into the next curve.
A figure loomed in the middle of the road, waving his arms wildly.
“Shit!”
The headlights hit him.
“The damn driver!” Sinjin shouted.
Guess he hadn’t witnessed the U-turn.
I jammed on the gas counting on him to jump. He did…at the last minute. I may have clipped him on the thigh.
“Brutal.” Sinjin still underestimated me.
“You know what they say about love and war.” I barreled into the night, driven by my imagination and the horrors Frank Liu could inflict on Teddie. Not sure why he would, but the mere possibility was enough to have me seeing red.
“And which one is this? Love? Or war?”
“Both. You don’t get it, do you? Even if it were you back there with Frank Liu and his goons instead of Teddie, I wouldn’t leave you.”
“You’d risk life and limb to rescue me?” He clearly hadn’t contemplated that possibility.
“Of course.”
After a bit of silence, during which I wondered if I’d feel the cold prod of the business end of whatever pistol Sinjin still concealed, he slithered over the seat and secured himself beside me. “Well, I’ve never been one to turn my back on love, nor run from war.”
His complicity confirmed he needed something from me. Still in the dark, but not clueless, I figured he needed that wine in the worst way. And he thought I was his ticket to finding it. Misplaced confidence or out of options? Either way, I could count on him just so far.
But I had an advantage—I knew what he wanted. “That was you at the Trocadéro, wasn’t it?” We both knew the answer.
Amazingly, he didn’t try to shine me on. “Yep, that guy was my inside man.”
“The scout for the thieves. You’d said a kitchen guy was instrumental in a previous theft. I believe you said his name was Jai Ling Ping.”
“Right. My inside man. You killed my shot there.”
“I didn’t…” My voice rose an octave as I stepped into the trap. Quickly, I pulled my foot out. “You make me sound like a bad journalist killing the lead.”
“A good analogy.”
“The three previous thefts in Bordeaux you mentioned? Did you make that up on the fly, or were they real?”
“Very real.” His look challenged me. He had the connections I needed, but he would make me work for them.
“And the houses that were robbed, would they be the same three that just signed new distribution agreements with the Laurent Company?”
“Very good.” Sinjin seemed pleased but not surprised. “The Bouclets were the last of the Grand Cru houses with any affiliation to Laurent. I thought they might be the next target. A long shot, but I guessed right.”
“So, you put three and three together and got five. For a cut of the action, you’d set it up.”
He didn’t confirm or deny, but he didn’t have to. I could answer the question myself. “What about Victor Martin?” I didn’t use his real name, wondering instead if Sinjin knew it. “You said he was part of the theft ring.”
“I thought so, at first. That’s why I followed him from the Bouclets. Pots and pans started flying in the kitchen; he took off. Curious, I followed him. Desiree caught me at the front of the house. I told her to go inside, to leave this one alone.”
“And she did as you told her?” I couldn’t keep the incredulity out of my voice.
“As far as I know. She didn’t follow us; that I know. She couldn’t. We were moving too fast for high heels.”
“Heels are a male conspiracy, designed to cause great pain and to slow us down. All so the poor Y-chromosome afflicted can have a hope of keeping up. Where did Victor go?”
“I felt sure he’d join his compatriots in the tunnels, but he didn’t head down to the entrance through the Metro. He ran to the Trocadéro then across the bridge. I let him go.”
“You had to get back to help steal the wine.”
“And we both know how that turned out.”
At least he had a bit of humor about it, but he didn’t fool me. He’d ditch me once I’d given him what he wanted. “And you still need that wine. Any idea what Victor was up to at the Bouclets’?”
“I had the impression he was waiting for someone.”
“Who?”
“Don’t know.”
“And now you are here because the counterfeiters left you hanging out to dry. Before you knew about them, you unwittingly sold their product as legit to very scary people. Now you’re stealing it back so Liu can’t throw you on the pyre, and then you’re risking life and limb to get your hands on the real stuff to make it all right.”
“A bit of a mess, for sure.”
“Some are tidier than others.” This one was threatening to blow up in Sinjin’s face. As much as there was about him to distrust, there was also something noble. “These guys must be something to scare you,” I thought out loud as I peered through the windshield. We weren’t far. The château loomed on the hill to our left, the turnoff a hundred yards ahead, maybe less. I slowed, looking for a place to pull over, preferably with a tangle of bushes or a copse of trees to hide the stolen vehicle.
“I am but a humble thief. These guys elevate carving off body parts to an art form.”
A realization dawned leaving a cold ball in my stomach. “Is Liu hooked in with the Hong Kong outfit? He has Teddie. I need to know.” I squeezed the steering wheel and pushed aside thoughts of torture. “If Liu even so much as touches Teddie, he’s a dead man.”
“Agreed. But he won’t. He’s just a rich guy from Singapore who wants the cache of owning a fancy Bordeaux chateau.” His words lacked the gravitas of truth.
“He’s more than just some rich dude, isn’t he? A benign wannabe wouldn’t have had you going to the risk of stealing that wine to get him to smoke out and exterminate the counterfeiters.”
He didn’t have a lie that would trump the truth.
“Damn.” Two against God knew what. Careful of a ditch along the side of the road, I pulled over as far as I could. “We hoof it from here.”
Sinjin pulled a small automatic from a calf holster, confirming my reading of his character. “You’ve got one already chambered.” He worked the slide, chambering a round in his gun. “We should be good to go.”
I killed the engine and the lights. The silence that enveloped us had an ominous emptiness to it. The clock in the dash had read almost two. This time of year, the sunrise came late, giving us several hours. But if we took that long it wouldn’t bode well for success. “Give me the layout.” He’d pinched the wine and, as a pro, he hadn’t taken the task lightly. He had to have a schematic of the property.
He leaned across me staring up at the target. “We’re in a bit of luck. Much of the property is under renovations and blocked off.”
“And open to the outside?”
“Unfortunately, no. I shimmied in through a small window in the dungeon.”
That word did all kinds of bad things to my nerves. “Dungeon?”
He turned, his face inches from mine, and gave me a smile. “Sorry, no. The basement.”
“Cute.” With an elbow to his chest I shoved him away. “Any idea where they might hold Teddie?”
“Why are they holding him?”
Not wanting to give Sinjin any more information than absolutely necessary to ensure his assistance, I thought through my answer. “To make sure I do what Mr. Liu wants me to do.”
Crossing his arms, Sinjin leaned a shoulder against the passenger door. “And what have they tasked you with?”
“I’m just supposed to deliver his offer to Jean-Charles and Enzo Laurent. If they let him in the top club, he’ll call off the dogs.”
Sinjin cocked his head and looked right through me to my soul. “And you have no intention of doing as he asks.”
“Whether I do or I don’t won’t make any difference; the hounds have been unleashed.”
“But you don’t like being dangled on a puppet master’s string.”
“No more than you.” We both were in the same boat, although on opposite sides of the law. An interesting synchronicity.
“So, we go in the same way.” Sinjin wrenched on the door handle, opening the door on his side.
Just like a man to go all bossy. “No.”
He paused, one foot out. “No?”
“The missing bottle of Estate Laurent surprised Mr. Liu. He’ll be looking for the way you got in.”
“There are no other easy entry points. The rest require climbing walls and trellises and bounding from balcony to balcony. Only Shakespeare thought that reasonable.”
“There is one other.”
The light dawned. “You can’t be serious.”
“Yep, we go in through the front door. They will not be expecting that.” If they were expecting me to return at all, which I doubted. And Mr. Liu had no idea that the thief and I were acquainted and would form an alliance. “If we have any hope of succeeding, we must keep surprise on our side.”
