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- Herausgeber: Clink Street Publishing
- Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
- Sprache: Englisch
The Reprisal is the sixth volume in the Ian Caxton Thriller series. When Ian spots an opportunity to attain revenge on his nemesis Jonathan Northgate, he has no idea he'll be antagonising the police and become entangled with a dangerous Mafia-like organisation. Out of his depth and frustrated, Ian eventually realises his actions may now have dire consequences for both family and friends… but is his desperate response too late? In Antigua, Oscar is invited by a client to view an unusual painting. However, after initially thinking the picture is worthless he is amazed to discover other pictures painted by the same abstract artist have each sold for over twenty million dollars! His big challenge is to convince the artist's foundation, in New York, that his client's picture is authentic and therefore potentially worth a similarly staggering fortune. Another dramatic page-turning tale of adventure, conspiracy and determination, where lives are at risk.
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Seitenzahl: 374
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025
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ii
The Reprisal
Robert Cort
ii
iii
To Robert and Sarah, out of my life but not out of my thoughts.
Contents
Chapter 1
Richard Caxton, Ian’s father, had just entered the lounge and was checking the time on his wristwatch. It was just after six o’clock. “Damn,” he said to himself, “I’m missing the evening news.” Watching The Six O’clock News on television was a habit with Richard. He liked to catch up on what was happening in the world.
He pressed the remote and sat down on the sofa. A few seconds later, the first picture he saw was of a multi-vehicle pile-up on a motorway. He turned up the volume.
The commentator was describing the huge crash that had occurred at about 4.30 that afternoon. “It occurred in dense fog,” he was reporting, “between junctions 23 and 22 on the southbound carriageway of the M1. It’s an extremely serious accident and first estimates say there are numerous casualties. Many people have either died or been injured. This section of the motorway cuts through the dense Charnwood Forest, so it happened at a particularly difficult section for the rescue services to reach. The police have just closed the northbound carriageway at junction 22, so they, the fire brigade and ambulances, from both Derby and Leicester, can attend. Two rescue helicopters have just landed…”
“Oh, my goodness. Elizabeth!” shouted Richard.
Ian’s mother immediately came into the lounge. “What’s 2that?” she asked, looking at the television whilst rubbing her hands on a tea towel. She’d been preparing dinner.
“A big pile-up on the M1. Somewhere in Derbyshire. Lots of fog in the area.”
“Oh dear. Anybody hurt?”
“Man reckons lots of people have died or been injured. People drive far too close and fast nowadays, especially in fog!”
Elizabeth sat down next to her husband. She had a worried look on her face. “I do hope nobody we know is involved!”
THREE HOURS EARLIER
It was just after 2.40pm when Ian Caxton parked his car in the large multi-storey car park in Derby’s city centre. Using the car’s satnav, he estimated it was about a ten-minute walk to the Derby Museum & Art Gallery.
He and his wife, Emma, arrived in reception at 2.56pm.
As they were expected, they were promptly escorted through the museum and into The Joseph Wright Study Room. There, Lucy Johnson, the curator, and an elderly gentleman were looking at one of the display screens. Lucy was smartly dressed in a grey suit and cream blouse. When she looked up and spotted Ian and Emma walking towards her, she smiled and spoke to the gentleman. Both greeted the new arrivals, and after Ian and Emma were introduced to Mr. Bristow, they all made their way into Lucy’s office.
Emma guessed Mr. Bristow was in his late 70s. Slim, well-dressed in a smart tweed overcoat, he had an air of confidence that reminded her of Ian’s father.
“Welcome back to Derby and our museum,” said Lucy, with a smile. “I hope you had a lovely time in the Peak District.”
Emma gave a brief summary of their visits and finished 3by saying they were also going home with a bag full of Bakewell puddings for the freezer. Everybody laughed.
Ian’s Joseph Wright painting was displayed on the same easel where he’d placed it three days ago. He’d only intended for the museum to give their opinion of the picture’s authenticity. However, Lucy had shown it to Mr. Bristow, an avid collector of Wright’s work. He’d immediately decided he wanted to add it to his collection and had offered £125,000. Ian had agreed to the price and was both surprised and thrilled.
They all walked over to inspect it.
“It’s an excellent painting,” said Mr. Bristow, who then pointed to the restored area. “I gather there’s been a small amount of restoration work, but it’s obviously been done by a professional. Someone who cares and knows what they’re doing. Doesn’t distract from the painting’s quality, or its value, in my opinion.”
Ian couldn’t identify Mr. Bristow’s accent, but there was just a hint of one. “The restorer is Peter Jarrett. He used to work for Sotheby’s when I worked there. He now works on his own and has a long waiting list of clients.”
“Well, young man, here’s your banker’s draft for 125,000 pounds. Don’t spend it all at once!”
Everyone smiled.
“Thank you, sir,” said Ian, glancing at the draft. “I hope the painting gives you many years of pleasure.”
Mr. Bristow laughed. “Lucy here, and this museum, they’re the ones that’ll get the pleasure… when I’ve popped my clogs. They’ll inherit all of my Joseph Wright collection.”
“Not for many years yet, we hope, Ernest,” said Lucy, with feeling.
“Are you people going back to London tonight?” asked Mr. Bristow. He had a more serious expression on his face.
“Yes, we’ve got plans for the weekend. Mind, we want 4to come back here again in the summer. It’s a lovely part of the world.”
“Travelling by car?” Mr. Bristow’s question had a slightly more unsettling tone.
“Yes,” said Ian, hesitantly. “We’ve parked in the multi-storey. Travelling back via the M1.”
“Just be careful. The weatherman has predicted more fog between here and Leicestershire tonight. Could be a pea-souper.”
“Thanks for the warning. I think we’d better make a move.”
They all shook hands and said their goodbyes. Ian and Emma left the museum and headed back towards the car park.
The predicted thick fog was already rolling in.
Chapter 2
“This fog is getting much thicker,” announced Emma as they walked along the pavement. She was worried about them having to endure the long drive home in such horrible weather. “It’s also damp and bitterly cold.”
Ian pushed up the collar of his overcoat.
After a few minutes, Ian noticed they were walking past the front of the hotel they’d stayed at four nights ago. He stopped and pensively looked at the entrance. “Maybe we should see if they’ve got a room for tonight. Another 24 hours wouldn’t interfere too much with our plans.”
“It’ll be a lot safer than driving home in this fog,” replied Emma, gently pulling at Ian’s arm and leading him up the three concrete steps.
Ian pushed open the dark blue wooden door. The reception area was noticeably warmer and had the same welcoming atmosphere as before.
“Good evening, sir,” greeted the friendly young receptionist, as Ian and Emma walked over towards the reception desk. “Can I help you?”
“Hello… Julie,” responded Ian, reading her name badge as he rubbed his cold hands together. “We stayed here four nights ago and were wondering if you had a vacancy for this evening?”6
The receptionist pressed some keys on her computer. “I’m sorry, I’m afraid we’re fully booked… except for one single.”
“Oh,” said Ian, looking at Emma. She had a dismayed expression on her face, having just spotted a lovely log fire burning in the lounge.
Ian pondered on the situation before asking the receptionist, “Are there any other local hotels you could recommend?”
“There’s ‘The George’. It’s about a five-minute walk. They usually have some vacancies. However, the main problem this evening is there’s a big conference starting tomorrow at the Council House. My guess is most local hotels are going to be fully booked.”
“Okay, thanks,” replied Ian. He stepped away from the reception desk and moved over to a toasty warm radiator Emma was warming herself by. “There’s only one single room. Where are you going to sleep?” he said, grinning.
“Very funny. I was thinking you’ll have to sleep in the car!”
Ian took a deep sigh. “So, what are we going to do now?”
“I don’t know,” responded Emma, staring through the open lounge door. Her attention was still being drawn to the inviting log fire. “I really don’t want to travel home in this weather. It’s far too dangerous.”
Whilst they pondered on the problem, another woman was speaking with the receptionist. Ian could hear Julie explaining their plight.
After a moment, the woman strode over to join them. “Hello, I’m Debbie Taylor, the manager. I gather you’re looking for a room for the night.”
“Yes,” responded Ian. He hoped this was going to be good news.
“I’ve just taken a cancellation, a double room. The guests cannot get here due to the fog. Julie can book you in now.”
Ian and Emma had relieved expressions on their faces as they followed Debbie back to the reception desk.7
Julie had heard the discussions and was already tapping keys on her computer.
“Thanks very much,” said Ian to Debbie. “You’ve saved us from a precarious drive back to London in this fog.”
Debbie smiled. “You’re welcome. Enjoy your stay,” she said before walking back towards the manager’s office.
Ian explained to Julie that they’d stayed in room 204 four nights ago. Julie checked her computer and transferred the same details to tonight’s booking: room 208.
Once booked in, Ian informed Emma he was going back to the multi-storey to collect his car. He’d park their car in the hotel’s car park and bring their bags up.
About an hour later, after they’d unpacked their bags, they were sitting facing the warming fire in the cosy lounge, drinking a hot pot of tea.
Whilst Emma stared at the flickering yellow flames, Ian was eavesdropping on a conversation between a group of four people sitting directly behind him. His curiosity had been aroused when one of the women mentioned a major vehicle crash on the motorway.
“There were police cars and ambulances all over the place,” said the woman. She had a raised and commanding voice. “It was total chaos. Jeremy and I, well, we really didn’t think we would get here. Isn’t that right?”
Ian guessed the woman was asking Jeremy to confirm her statement, but the next voice he heard was the same woman. “We were diverted. God knows where! Good job we had the satnav, otherwise we might still be lost somewhere in the back of beyond.”
Ian heard a man’s voice ask a question, but couldn’t make out the exact words. He leaned forwards and whispered to Emma. “Did you hear that?”8
“Mmm,” Emma whispered back. “I think everyone in the lounge heard her!”
Ian smiled, then became more serious. “A major crash on the motorway. We could have been involved in that.”
Emma took a deep breath. “A great decision of mine, then, to stay here tonight!”
Later that same evening, Ian and Emma were back in their room watching The 10 O’Clock News on the television.
The programme was dominated by the crash on the M1 motorway. The commentator was describing the multi-vehicle pile-up. “It occurred this afternoon, at about 4.30, between junctions 23 and 22 on the southbound carriageway of the M1. Dense fog had been a major factor and has continued to hamper emergency services all evening. It’s an extremely serious accident and at least 15 people have died; many more are seriously injured. This section of the motorway cuts through the dense Charnwood Forest area, so it occurred at a particularly difficult section for the rescue services to reach. Both carriageways are closed and the Leicestershire and Derby fire brigades and ambulances have been working tirelessly all evening. Rescue helicopters have also been involved, when the weather allowed. The motorway is expected to remain closed until further notice. I’ve got Derbyshire’s Chief Constable, John Atkins, standing next to me. I’ll ask him about the current situation…”
“Oh, wow!” cried out Emma, staring at the screen. She was startled to see the carnage.
Ian turned down the television’s volume and spoke to Emma with an alarmed edge to his voice. “4.30! That’s about the time we should have been passing that spot.”
“Oh, Ian! It’s all so horrible.”
“I know. We’ve been unbelievably lucky.”
Chapter 3
Derbyshire, and the East Midlands, was not an area Ian knew. He rarely needed to travel to this part of the country. So, the next morning, after checking out of the hotel, he and Emma were sitting in his car, having just reset the satnav. Ian had inserted their home postcode and was now waiting for the device to programme an alternative route avoiding the closed section of the motorway. A few seconds later, the new route was displayed. It was just after 10.30am.
Although the previous day’s dense fog had abated, there was still a murky gloom as Ian steered their car out of the hotel’s car park.
About 15 minutes into the journey, they joined the southbound A50 trunk road. The traffic was busy and moving at an unusually slow pace. News of yesterday’s crash and today’s gloomy weather were probably making drivers more cautious.
Ian continued to slavishly follow the satnav directions, changing roads when instructed. Neither he nor Emma had a clue where they were; they just hoped the satnav knew what it was doing. Eventually, Emma spotted a sign for the M1 motorway, junction 21. They both gave a relieved cheer and Ian happily drove the car towards the southbound entrance.10
The weather conditions were still dismal and overcast, but nothing like the ‘pea-souper’ of yesterday. Drizzly rain and spray, being thrown up by the vehicles driving ahead, was now blurring Ian’s view. He switched on the windscreen wipers.
They were both still a little unnerved after yesterday’s ordeal, and Ian decided to keep the car’s speed below the motorway’s limit. He wanted to get home quickly… but safely.
They arrived home just after 5.30pm. Emma had fallen asleep for the last hour, so when Ian turned his car into their driveway, she awoke with a start.
“Oh, wonderful,” she announced, as soon as she recognised where they were. She stretched her arms and stared out through the side window. The lawn was a little longer, but otherwise everything in the garden appeared to be the same. Mind, they’d only been away for a handful of days, but to Emma, it had seemed like an age.
Ian parked in front of the large double garage and switched off the engine. “I could do with a large glass of wine,” he said, rubbing his tired eyes.
Emma unclipped her seat belt and opened the passenger door. “Okay, I’ll leave you to bring in the bags. I’ll deal with the wine.”
Five minutes later, the car was locked and Ian had deposited the holdalls in the hallway. He wandered into the kitchen and immediately spotted two large glasses of white wine on the breakfast bar. Emma was staring at the answerphone.
“Have we got any messages?” asked Ian, picking up both glasses and joining Emma.
Emma accepted the glass he was offering. “Yes. My mum’s left a message, but there’s also a strange one from Vic. I’ll play it again. See if you can understand it.”11
Ian took a sip of his wine whilst Emma pushed the ‘play’ button. Immediately, Viktor’s unmistakable voice said, “Hi, Ian… and Emma. It’s Vic. Look, I have a bit of a problem. Well, actually, it’s Penny’s problem really. Not a problem as such, but more of an issue, I think. I don’t want to say any more… not over the phone, but can you give me a buzz, please? Hope all’s okay with you both. Cheers for now. Vic.”
Ian stared at Emma. “Mmm,” he said, with a quizzical look on his face. “Play it again.”
Emma pressed the ‘play’ button again and both listened to the message once more.
“I’ll give him a ring in the morning. I wonder why he didn’t ring my mobile,” said Ian, taking another sip of his wine.
“Maybe he did and we were out of range.” Then, after sipping her own wine, she said, “The message was left three days ago. We were probably in… Matlock then.”
Ian nodded and thought. “Yes, that’s true. Anyway… I’m starving. What do you fancy for dinner?”
The next morning, Ian was sitting at his desk. He had just dialled Viktor’s mobile number.
“Hi, Ian, thanks for coming back,” responded Viktor. “Have you been away? I tried your mobile.”
Ian explained where he and Emma had been and, also, about the sale of his Joseph Wright painting. He then asked Viktor what the problem he’d mentioned in his message was.
“I don’t want to discuss it on the phone. Can we meet up? I can come down to Esher… or, how about you and Emma come to us for dinner? You’d both be welcome to stay overnight.”
“Emma’s not been to your apartment, so that would be great. She’ll really be impressed. When were you thinking of?”12
“Er. Well, I’ll need to speak to Pen first. Can I drop you an email?”
“Of course. I’ll need to talk to Emma, too. So, your problem’s not urgent?”
“Well… yes… and er, no. Sorry, Ian, you’ll understand better when we meet face-to-face.”
“Okay. I’ll wait for your email.” Ian switched off the call. He was none the wiser, but it certainly sounded like there was a problem… and Penny too. How was she involved? Was it something to do with her and Sotheby’s?
Chapter 4
Ian received Viktor’s email, and after a bit of to-ing and fro-ing, a date and a time for the dinner date was agreed.
Emma had been surprised, and a little excited, when Ian told her of Viktor and Penny’s invitation. She knew Ian had visited their apartment before and, also, remembered he’d told her they lived in a penthouse apartment in the London Docklands area. He’d also told her of the amazing views from the lounge and dining-room windows. In addition, there was access to a roof-top garden which gave more far-reaching, 360-degree views.
Even so, Emma was still bemused by Viktor’s earlier answerphone message. She wondered what it really meant. Was Penny in trouble, or was there a problem with her and Viktor’s marriage? She couldn’t see why, because they’d always seemed very close. It didn’t sound like there was a business issue either. If there was, why had she been invited? No, it was all a little odd and certainly mysterious. Even Ian said he hadn’t a clue.
Was it all just a storm in a teacup… or was it something much more serious?
It was a wet and sunless day when Ian and Emma caught the 2.32pm train from Esher to London Waterloo. Neither 14fancied another trip in the car, especially driving in such grisly weather… and into London. They were sitting in the First-Class carriage, and Ian was staring at the passing grey countryside. He was thinking about the apartment in Monaco, and how much warmer and brighter it would be over there. He hated the British weather, especially the seemingly endless, depressing and dismal winters. We really need to get back into our old routine of frequent visits… and indeed, more holidays in general, he thought.
“I’ve just been looking at the weather forecast for London tomorrow,” Emma said, interrupting his train of thought and placing her mobile on the table. “It’s suggesting today will be the last day of this dreary weather. Tomorrow is likely to be colder, but sunnier, with a clear blue sky.”
“Okay. That’s a bit better,” replied Ian, now looking across at her. “At least you’ll be able to see the great views from Vic’s apartment.”
Now that Emma had obtained Ian’s full attention, she leaned forward and asked, “Do you still not know what Vic’s message was about?”
Ian shook his head and grimaced. “No. It must be something unusual, Vic’s not usually that evasive. We’ll just have to wait. My main concern is him saying it was more of a problem for Penny. Makes me think it may have something to do with Sotheby’s.”
Ah, thought Emma. She knew Ian was still emotionally connected to his former PA. They’d worked together for several years and Penny had even asked him to be her ‘father of the bride’ on her wedding day. Penny’s own father had passed away a few years earlier. He’d also pushed Sotheby’s board to promote her to replace him when he’d handed in his letter of resignation. Although Penny was not as experienced as others, the board did concur with Ian’s recommendation and she was duly promoted.15
However, Emma still occasionally wondered if their relationship was more than that, but she didn’t have any evidence for this thought… it was just a niggly feeling… a woman’s intuition? However, maybe Ian only saw Penny as the daughter he’d always longed for. She knew he loved and cherished their son, Robert, but…
“I’ve just been talking to you,” said Ian, waving a hand in front of Emma’s face.
“Sorry, Ian. I was miles away. What did you say?”
“I was saying we ought to go back to Monaco… or, maybe on holiday, somewhere warmer.”
Emma was now registering Ian’s words. “Yes, yes, it would be nice to have a few days in the sunshine. Where are you suggesting?”
“There’s always the apartment, but otherwise, I’ve not got anywhere specific in mind. Just to get away from this depressing weather.”
“Okay. Let’s talk about it when we return home.”
The train started to slow down and Ian looked out through the window. “I reckon we’re about five minutes away. Better tidy up.”
Fifteen minutes later, they were sitting in a taxi, heading towards Docklands. Ian had given the driver Viktor’s address but knew, from his last visit, that they’d have to walk the last few yards as there was a ‘pedestrian only’ walkway at the side of the apartment building.
Ian also telephoned Viktor and told him where they were. He responded by saying he’d meet them in reception and arrange their security passes.
Chapter 5
As Ian and Emma approached the main entrance to the apartment block, the two large glass doors automatically opened. Emma led the way through but immediately stopped when she saw the huge atrium area opening out in front of her. The vast space was enclosed by a modern steel frame construction, at least two stories in height. Two sides were solid, cream-painted walls, adorned with four large modern art pictures. The remaining two sides were dominated by large, floor-to-ceiling windows, allowing lots of natural light to flood in. Even with today’s gloomy conditions, only one of the three large chandeliers was required to be illuminated.
Both stood on the light grey marble flooring, whilst Emma pointed to the property’s mixed collection of unusual and intriguing features.
“Admiring our wonderful building, are you?” announced Viktor, as he strode towards them.
“Hi, Vic,” responded Ian, shaking Viktor’s hand. He’d seen it all before, but was still impressed. “Emma wants to move in!”
Ignoring Ian’s comment, Emma stepped forward and Viktor gave her a brief hug. “Wow, Vic, this is wonderful.”
“We still think it’s great. Wait till you see the views from 17the apartment windows. Mind, today, it’s not so good. Hopefully tomorrow will be better. Anyway, here are your security passes, so if you follow me, I’ll fly you to the moon!”
As they walked towards the security desk, Emma looked at Ian with a quizzical look. Ian was carrying their overnight holdall bags and leaned over to whisper, “He said that to me the last time I was here.”
Emma was none the wiser.
Once through security, Viktor led them to a bank of elevators. They only had to wait a few seconds before one of the doors opened and they all stepped in.
Viktor pressed the illuminated button next to the number 29, which Emma noticed was on the top floor. The doors closed, and the elevator quickly, but very smoothly, accelerated upwards. Emma could feel the speed of the ascent through her legs. After three floors, the subtle blue lighting suddenly changed and daylight appeared. Emma turned around and realised it was a glass-sided elevator, which now gave murky views of the neighbouring Dockland skyscraper buildings. As the elevator rose higher, the River Thames became visible. Unfortunately, the thick low clouds were restricting the distant views.
The elevator slowed down and then stopped. The doors opened, and Viktor led the way along a brightly decorated corridor until they came to a door displaying the number 29d.
“This is our home,” said Viktor. He unlocked and pushed open the door.
Emma and Ian were led across the hallway and into the lounge area.
“This is fabulous, Vic,” said Emma, walking towards the pair of large windows to take in the view.
“You can usually see for miles… well, on a clear day,” announced Viktor, walking across to join Emma. “Hopefully, you’ll get the benefit tomorrow.”18
Ian hadn’t spoken until now. He wanted Emma to get the same fabulous first impression he’d experienced. “Where’s Penny?”
“Ah, yes. That’s part of what we wanted to talk to you about. She’ll be back shortly. She’s over at Jonathan Northgate’s apartment.”
Emma stared at Viktor and then at Ian. She knew all about Ian’s bitter rivalry with Jonathan Northgate. At least the bits he’d told her about.
“Northgate!” exclaimed Ian, putting down the two overnight bags. His face showed immediate alarm. “What’s she doing there!?”
Ever since these arch-rivals had confronted each other earlier in Ian’s career, in New York, Jonathan Northgate had been Ian’s nemesis… and he was still determined to get his revenge. Ian had warned Penny the guy was useless, all hot air… but, nevertheless, dangerous and ruthless. When Ian had turned down the CEO role at Sotheby’s and resigned from the company, to his shock and horror, Sotheby’s had then turned to Northgate as their second choice.
“Let’s wait until she returns,” responded Viktor. “She’ll be able to explain the problem far better than me. In the meantime, I’ll brew us a pot of coffee.”
As Viktor walked back towards the hallway, Ian and Emma decided to follow.
When Emma saw the large kitchen area, she immediately noticed the modern, almost showroom, pristine surroundings. “This kitchen is wonderful,” she said, surveying the cupboards, cooker, hob and worktops. It reminded her of the apartment in Monaco. “It still looks brand new.”
Viktor filled the electric kettle and switched it on. A tray containing a cafetière of ground coffee beans, four mugs and a plate of biscuits, was already sitting on the breakfast bar.19
“That’s Penny. She insists on everything being clean and tidied away,” said Viktor as he walked over to the large American-style fridge-freezer and removed a jug of milk.
Ian smiled. He remembered back to Penny’s desk at work. It was always tidy and well organised.
It was at that moment they heard the main door close. Penny walked into the kitchen and gave hugs and kisses to their guests. “Just give me a minute. I want to hang up my coat.”
Meanwhile, Viktor poured hot water into the cafetière and picked up the tray. “We’ll go into the lounge. It’ll be more comfortable to sit and talk in there.”
Ian and Emma followed Viktor. Penny soon joined them, and they all sat down.
“Well,” said Ian, anxious to know what this mysterious problem was… and why was Penny visiting Northgate’s apartment!? “You’d better explain why we’re here.”
Chapter 6
After Viktor had poured the coffee and everyone had helped themselves to milk, Penny started to explain her situation.
“It all started just over a year ago. Jonathan mentioned that he was living in an apartment in Docklands. I said that was a coincidence as I live here too. We then discovered our apartment buildings are only about 100 metres apart. He told me he was renting and living alone. His American wife and children still live in the family home in Upstate New York. He returns to New York during his holiday leave.”
Ian looked intently at Penny as he sipped his coffee. Emma was also staring and wondered what was about to unfold.
After taking a sip of her coffee, Penny continued. “Then, about nine months ago, Jonathan asked me if I would do him a favour. Needless to say, I was a little wary and suspicious. We were getting on well at work, but that’s as far as I wanted our relationship to go.” Penny looked across at Viktor, who gave her a broad smile.
Emma raised her eyebrows, but said nothing.
“However, it turned out to be quite innocent. He told me that his neighbour had a key to his apartment, and whilst Jonathan visited his family in America, the neighbour visited every other day to feed his collection of tropical fish. 21However, this obliging neighbour had just told Jonathan that his employer wanted him to relocate to Paris, so he wouldn’t be able to deal with his fish in the future. What Jonathan was asking me, i.e., his favour, was would I pop in and feed the fish whilst he was away? He said it would only be a temporary measure… until he’d found someone else to help on a more permanent basis. Anyway, I agreed… and also thought I might have a sneaky peek at his apartment at the same time. So, on the first visit, I had a nose around and, to my huge surprise, I saw a painting on his lounge wall that I’d seen before… at Sotheby’s! I even remembered it had been the responsibility of one of my team, Emily, to prepare it for auction. I checked our files and discovered the picture, which was titled ‘Brown Surprise’ by Sir Alfred Munnings, had sold for 3.3 million pounds. However, it hadn’t been purchased by Jonathan, but by a private buyer in Dubai. So, the question I now asked myself was, is this picture a copy or the original? I read all Emily’s notes on the picture. One comment said that on the back of the frame, an old faded auction number 36 was just visible. Sotheby’s file also contained photos of both the rear and front of this painting.”
“Interesting,” murmured Ian to himself.
“The next day, I went back to the apartment. Jonathan was due back in two days’ time, so I had to move quickly. This was my last chance. I looked a lot closer at the picture this time, particularly at the rear. The old faded auction number 36 was in exactly the same position as Emily’s photograph. Okay, I thought, so maybe this is the original, so what? Maybe Jonathan has a good reason for the painting to be there. Not that I would be brave enough to ask him, having been sneaking around in his lounge!”
“It certainly sounds very ‘fishy’,” said Ian, with a smirk on his face.22
“Ha, ha,” responded Emma.
Viktor and Penny both briefly smiled.
“No, in all seriousness,” continued Ian, “there could be criminal activity going on.” He hoped so and started to wonder how he could find out. He’d give anything to get his revenge on Northgate. A long-awaited reprisal would be so deserving!
Viktor now spoke. “I was wondering if I ought to speak, unofficially, to a policeman I know at the Met, Detective Sergeant Andrew Baker. He works in the Art and Antiques Unit. Anyway, we can talk about that later. Penny’s story isn’t finished yet.” He looked across at Penny, who was drinking the last of her coffee.
“So, I was in a quandary,” continued Penny. “After chatting it through with Vic, we decided to leave it for the time being. After all, what could we do? I did, however, say to Jonathan that I didn’t mind continuing to look after his fish, if he wanted me to. That way, I could still have legal access to his apartment. He said he hadn’t had time to find anyone else, so he jumped at my offer. Then, three weeks ago, he told me he was going back to America for ten days. He gave me his spare key and left last Friday. I called in to the apartment two days later. Another surprise! The painting, which had previously been hanging in the lounge, had gone. It had been replaced by a surreal picture by a modern artist I’d never heard of, Oliver Poulter. This time I took a photo with my mobile and, next morning, checked to see if Sotheby’s had been involved… and, yes, we had! I read all our records and the picture’s details. Having been painted in 2002, it was auctioned by Ally McLoud’s department two months ago. Once again, it was not purchased by Jonathan but by a private buyer, this time in Abu Dhabi. My guess is Jonathan’s picture is the original again, but being a modern painting, we can’t really check without a full investigation.”23
“No,” said Ian, pondering on the situation.
Penny, Viktor and Emma all stared at Ian, waiting for him to say more.
After a few seconds, he responded, “Penny, can you give me copies of everything you’ve got on the painting’s paperwork? Also, we need to get a duplicate of the apartment’s key.” There was another short pause before Ian continued, “I don’t think we need to involve the police at the moment, Vic. However, your police detective friend may come in useful later. Finally, I need to speak to a colleague none of you will have heard of… and I think it’s best if we keep it that way.”
Both Penny and Viktor were relieved that Ian had decided to take charge. Emma, however, was far more concerned about what Ian was planning to do… and who, indeed, he would be speaking to. She hoped it wasn’t going to be another Andrei-like situation!
Whilst Penny collected the empty coffee mugs, Viktor carried the tray into the kitchen. Emma sat quietly and continued to stare at Ian.
Ian, meanwhile, was pondering on all that he’d heard over the last hour. Yes, he knew this was THE opportunity, maybe the last chance he’d ever have, to finally nail that jumped-up, useless bag of wind. What he would give to see Northgate in the dock, before being sentenced to, what, five, seven or even ten years in prison? If he were the judge, he’d send him down for the rest of his life… and throw away the key!
Chapter 7
Next morning, the weather had improved. The murky, damp atmosphere and heavy clouds of yesterday had disappeared and were replaced by a clear blue sky and a chilly breeze.
When Ian walked into the kitchen, Penny was already there, unloading the dishwasher.
“Morning, Penny,” announced Ian, sauntering across to stand nearby. “That was a wonderful meal last evening.”
Penny placed some of the plates on the island and looked at Ian. “Thanks. Did you sleep well?”
“Yes, the bed’s really comfortable. Didn’t wake up once. Can I give you a hand?”
“No, I’ve nearly finished. However… Okay. You could put the crockery over there on the worktop, please,” said Penny, pointing to the area opposite the double oven. “I can then put them straight into the cupboards.”
Whilst Ian picked up the pile of plates, he continued talking. “So, how’s everything at Sotheby’s for you now?”
“The work side’s going really well. My team has certainly supported me, which is great. I know you said I was capable of doing the job, but, for me, it was a huge step. For the first six months I didn’t think I was going to stick it out. Vic, however, persuaded me to give it more time, and it’s worked out fine.”25
“I’m pleased. I knew you could do the job, but I must admit, I also felt I was leaving you in the lurch, especially when I heard that Northgate had been appointed. I still can’t believe the company did that. The guy’s a buffoon!”
Penny smiled. “I get on well with him… and he’s made a number of successful changes. Maybe he’s improved since you worked together in New York.”
“Mmm,” responded Ian. He wasn’t convinced. “Not unless he’s had a brain transplant!”
Penny laughed out loud.
“Hello. What’s so funny in here then?” Viktor arrived in the kitchen.
“Your high-flying wife has just been telling me about life at Sotheby’s.”
“And Ian’s accused Jonathan of having had a brain transplant!” added Penny, still smirking.
Viktor laughed and then responded, “Maybe he’s received one of the Great Train Robbers’ brains.”
All three now laughed. Then Penny asked Ian where Emma was.
“Last time I saw her, she was still hiding under the duvet. I’ll go and see if she’s emerged yet.” At this Ian walked back towards the guest bedroom.
“Let’s have breakfast in the dining room,” suggested Viktor. “The island might feel a little cramped for four.”
“I agree. We can set it up now. I know Emma was looking forward to seeing the view.”
“It might be warm enough to take them up onto the roof garden later. For a short while, at least.”
“It looks warmer than it will feel, but yes, we can go up there for a few minutes.”
By the time Emma finally appeared, the dining room had been fully prepared for breakfast. Nobody wanted anything 26cooked, so there was a selection of cereals, yoghurts, fruit and slices of bread waiting to be toasted.
Ian suggested it was like staying at the Savoy.
As soon as Emma saw the sun shining through the window, she dashed over to take in the view. “Wow, Penny… Vic, this is wonderful. You can see for miles. I recognise the Shard… and Tower Bridge.”
“From the lounge window,” interrupted Viktor, “You can see where the Thames estuary flows into the sea.”
“I must see that!”
Ian interrupted, “Can I suggest we eat this wonderful breakfast our hosts have generously prepared for us first?”
“Sorry,” said Emma, who immediately sat down. “It really is a bird’s-eye view.”
“We’ll take you up to the roof garden as well. You get a 360-degree perspective from there,” said Viktor, pouring himself a glass of orange juice.
“Yes please!” exclaimed Emma. She anticipated it would be an unbelievable vista.
“Unfortunately, there’s always a breeze,” interrupted Penny, “so it’ll probably be too cold to stay there for too long.”
“I still want to see it though. I’ve got a thick coat.”
After breakfast they all visited the roof garden. Penny was right, there was a noticeable chilly breeze, but Emma was determined to stay as long as she could. The temperature was certainly cold, but the air was clear and they could see for miles. It felt, thought Emma, like they were standing in the basket of a hot-air balloon, hovering in the sky.
Unfortunately, after about ten minutes, even Emma had to give in and return to the warmth of the apartment.
Viktor made hot coffees, whilst Ian and Emma packed their bags. It was almost time for them to leave. They’d 27arranged for a taxi to collect them in 45 minutes. There was just time to finalise their discussions on the Northgate paintings situation. Ian promised he’d try to investigate what had happened to the two paintings immediately after they’d been sold at auction. He also told the others that he had a connection in Dubai who would probably help. Finally, he was going to talk with a colleague and arrange for some level of surveillance. However, he wouldn’t expand on what this was likely to entail.
Penny had given Northgate’s apartment key to Viktor. It was his task to get a copy cut.
When Ian and Emma exited the apartment building, Ian knew his plan of action. He was keen and determined to make sure that Northgate would finally pay for the treatment he’d received whilst they’d been working together in New York.
For Ian, it wasn’t enough to see Jonathan Northgate’s career come crashing down, he also wanted to witness Northgate’s egocentric life being totally ruined!
Chapter 8
In Antigua, May and Oscar were sitting in the kitchen eating breakfast. They’d just returned from their regular early morning swim in the Caribbean Sea. It was just over a year since they were married and six months since all the changes to the villa had been completed. To May, the villa was now more comfortable and, domestically, much more practical. There was a lot more space for all their (her) clothes and a large office from which to run their businesses. Guests were now treated to a welcoming ensuite bedroom and the new double garage provided shelter and security for both their vehicles.
“I’m going to see old Charlie Hall this afternoon,” announced Oscar, placing a spoon on his plate after swallowing the last two pieces of his melon. “He phoned me yesterday. Told me a neighbour wants to sell a picture. Apparently, the neighbour needs some money to top up his pension.”
“That’s good,” responded May, pushing her long black hair back over her shoulders, “because I’m seeing Wesley, at 2.30, so we can travel together. You can drop me off at his gallery… and afterwards we could meet for a drink at ‘Ambrose’s Bar’.”
“Great idea. Have you had any more interest in the Richie Hope landscapes?”29
“Wei Qi, my contact in Shanghai, emailed to say he has four galleries interested.”
Oscar nodded. He wished he’d achieved this amount of interest when he’d first arrived in Antigua. Mind, he knew May’s experience and connections had always been better than his. “I’m sure Wesley’s over the moon with all the sales you’re generating.”
May smiled. “Yes, he is, but it was you who initiated the interest. Without your inspired endorsement I wouldn’t have considered these types of paintings for the Chinese market. Anyway, do you know anything about Charlie’s neighbour’s picture?”
“No, not really. Other than Charlie thinks it will be an interesting challenge.”
“A challenge!” announced May, smiling. “It sounds intriguing. Maybe I ought to come with you.”
“As you know, Charlie’s only involved in a small amount of local art trading, so anything not Antiguan, or worth over a thousand dollars, is much too large for him to handle. His favourite remark is ‘dats all too much of a challenge for me, man’.”
May laughed at Oscar’s cheeky Antiguan accent. “Okay. You can tell me more when we meet in the bar.”
Later that afternoon, after dropping May off at the ‘Shell Gallery’, Oscar arrived outside Charlie’s property. It was a small detached wooden house with a corrugated metal roof and peeling window frames. Similarly constructed properties were located on either side. Set seven streets back from the local beach, this was not a wealthy part of town. The road originally had a hard surface, but over the years, it had slowly been worn away, resulting in a number of water-filled potholes. Nevertheless, it was a quiet area and Charlie had enjoyed living there for 30 years. The last 12 on his own after his wife, Winny, had passed away.30
