Chapter 6: Painting

Officers from the CIA arrived at the Mara coffee house and questioned everyone as we took the security footage and dusted the table for prints. I knew that it would be futile because Daxia would never be this careless.

The parking lot security footage had blind spots and he had escaped without us knowing which direction he had taken. He had predicted that I would follow the trail to the Mara coffee house and had prepared a surprise for me.

Arran’s laughter was infectious as we left the Mara coffee house, and headed to the office. He seemed amused by the fact that Daxia had seen us coming. As we sat in traffic, we got a call from the office that there had been a theft at the David Zwirner gallery and a valuable piece of art has gone missing.

“I am on my way,” I responded as Arran switched on the siren and we rushed over.

The place was already sealed off as a small crowd gathered at the entrance. We walked in and the gallery manager was speaking to Deputy Dante.

“Did he call us after he failed to solve the case? Why is he here?” Arran complained.

Deputy Dante turned around and saw us. The irritation in his eyes was unmistakable but he forced a smile in greeting. “Director Vance, let me bring you up to speed on the occurrence.”

I nodded and waited.

“The gallery opened its doors at 10 a.m. No one noticed the painting to be missing until 3 p.m. when the guards noticed the wall was empty. The Lisa Yuskavage painting is missing.”

The gallery manager's face was in a panic. “The painting is worth 100 million dollars.”

“What?” Arran choked and coughed so loudly I had to pat his back.

“Why would you place such a highly-priced painting out in the open?” I scolded.

“We had plans of moving it to the vault after this week. The exhibition ended this week, so we increased the number of security guards and cameras. We also installed sensors near the wall but somehow, they never went off,” the gallery manager said in a panic.

“Get a hold of yourself,” Arran scolded. “What we need now is all the details that you can spare so that we can trace the painting.”

“How can someone steal a painting during broad daylight?” Director Dante wondered aloud.

“What about the security footage?” Arran inquired.

“We reviewed it, and it has been tampered with,” Director Dante informed us.

“Arran, have a look at the security footage and see if there is something they missed,” I commanded.

“Yes, boss,” he said and walked away amidst the glaring eyes of Director Dante.

Twenty minutes later, Arran walked over with his laptop open and whispered in my ear, “Boss, I see the same pattern as the hacking of the footage in the CIA offices when Daxia snuck in.”

“What the f*ck are you saying?” I asked as my eyes widened.

“Same hacker, boss. But I have to go back to the office to confirm,” he said in a hushed tone.

“Don't let anyone know about this,” I commanded, and he nodded in acknowledgment

.

“Do you have anything for us?” Director Dante asked Arran, startling us from our hushed conversation.

“Nothing as of yet. I have to go back to the office and run the algorithm on the footage,” Arran explained.

I hid a smile since I knew that Arran had sprouted nonsense to Director Dante.

“The fingerprints in the gallery have been dusted and all the staff have given their statement,” Director Dante stated.

“Fine. Let’s head back to the office,” I instructed Arran.

On the way to the office, I suppressed a yawn. Arran smirked. “You need a good night's sleep.”

“How do I sleep with that comical b*stard on my radar and now we have a million-dollar art missing? It is an inside job.” I heaved a sigh.

“He is playing with you, Vance. And yes, I know it's an inside job. There was no way someone would move such a painting without the help of the art gallery workers,” Arran announced.

“I am aware of what the f*cking b*stard is doing. He feels threatened by me,” I retorted. “I just don’t want to play his games.”

“Vance.” Arran’s voice was laced with a warning.

“I know, I know,” I responded.

I dropped Arran at the office since he was more of a night owl. He rarely slept due to his PTSD, and I respected his space and let him be.

I sped down the highway since traffic has already eased and stopped by the market to get some food. I happily walked to the car and then felt the back of my hair rise, and I knew that I was being watched.

Pretending not to notice, I got into the car. Driving a few meters toward my apartment block, I checked my review mirror and nothing out of the ordinary stood out.

After parking my car, I took the elevator and called Arran immediately.

“Boss, what is it?” he asked once the call went through.

“I am being followed,” I explained calmly.

“It is expected. That is how his mind works. He wants to know everything about you,” Arran deduced. 

“He is dangerous,” I seethed.

“Not yet. For now, he just wants to know more about you. Your movements, plans, and schedule.”

“I am not a subject or victim,” I said, gritting my teeth as I swiped the card on the door and entered my apartment.

“No, you are not. You are just the object of his affection.” I could hear Arran's suppressed laughter.

“You are having fun, I see,” I stated, rolling my eyes.

“No, boss. I am being objective,” he countered. “Do you have a gun in your apartment?”

“Yes, of course. I will shoot any b*stard that walks in and disturbs my peace.”

I placed the food on the kitchen counter and pressed the buttons for the curtains to close. I walked over to the bedroom and to my surprise, there was a painting hanging over my bed.

I took a step back and took out the gun. I stealthily walked into the bedroom, checking every corner until I was sure I was alone. The fresh smell of sandalwood hit my nose as I walked back to the bathroom. The tiles in the shower were wet, and someone had used my shampoo.

I took out my phone and called Arran. His comical voice irritated me. “Did you miss me already?”

“I have an intruder in my apartment,” I whispered.

“I am on my way,” Arran said. “Keep me on the call until I arrive.”

“And there is a painting hanging on my wall,” I informed him.

“What the f*ck?” Arran seethed. “Sh*t, you don't think it's the same painting that was stolen, do you?”

“How the hell am I supposed to know?” I yelled.

“Calm down, Vance. Take a picture of the painting and send it to me,” Arran stated. I could hear him running and then the sound of the car door opening and closing in the background.

I took a picture and sent it to Arran. After a few minutes, he cursed. “F*ck. F*ck, f*ck.”

“This is bad,” I whispered.

“More than bad. It's the painting. But we can't be sure until a curator authenticates it,” Arran stated.

“It's him, right?” I whispered.

“It must be,” Arran responded.

I sighed, walked over to the table, put the phone on speaker, and removed the food from the bags. Opening the takeaway dishes, I sat down on the couch to eat.

“Vance, you can't be seriously having a meal right now.”

“A man has to eat,” I explained with my mouth full of food.

“Swallow your food. It's disgusting to speak with food in your mouth.”

“I suddenly felt hungry,” I muttered.

“If it's him, then I’m impressed. He is showing off, Vance. He wants you to know what he is capable of,” Arran stated.

“You are praising him again.”

“No, Vance, I am analyzing him. I feel like the CIA has not done a good job of it. He slips through our fingers all the time. He wants your attention. And in these circumstances, he knows that you will give it to him.”

I stuffed my mouth with food since I did not want to respond to Arran’s suggestion and analysis.

“Vance, I know you don't want to hear this, but Daxia is wooing you,” Arran sighed.

Twenty minutes later, a knock on my apartment door alerted me that Arran had arrived. I peeped through the hole for assurance and then yanked the door open.

“Why the f*ck are you not wearing gloves?” he scolded. He placed the forensic kit that he had in his hands on the counter and took out gloves from his pocket and handed them to me.

“When did you have time to get the forensic kit?”

“I am always prepared,” he explained. “What else do I need to know before I start?”

I looked away for a second and then whispered in a hushed voice, “He took a shower in my bathroom.”

Arran laughed. He laughed until he bowled over and took a step back. “Oh, my.”

“Please don't tell me that is wooing. It's simply creepy,” I announced.

“I am just surprised,” Arran grunted. “It has been a long time since I handled such a nutcase.”

“Okay, just go do your thing.” I dismissed him while I sat down on the couch, deep in thought.

Arran took his time and when he emerged from the bedroom, he has a grin on his face. “It's the same painting, Vance, and guess what I found under your pillow?”

I was scared to even guess, so I just shook my head in frustration. Arran handed me a card. On it were the words engraved, ‘Vance Adira, you make my body burn. Yours truly, Daxia.’

“I really need to shoot this b*stard. Between his balls for that matter,” I seethed.

“I would love to see that.” Arran grinned.

“Call it in and alert the gallery. Please keep the details of the shower between us. I don’t want further speculation about what Daxia is up to,” I said in resignation.

The junior officers arrived at my apartment half an hour later. The curators from the gallery followed suit. The last to arrive was Director Dante. His facial expression was priceless as he viewed my apartment in wonder.

“Director Vance, your apartment is so posh, and everything looks expensive. How do you afford it with the salary of a CIA agent?” Director Dante's voice irked me.

“Director Vance comes from a wealthy family unlike some of us,” Arran retorted.

Everyone turned to stare at me. I responded in a threatening voice, “Can you all get to work? I hate the fact that Daxia was in my apartment. Get the painting out of here and dust the apartment for fingerprints and bugs.”

The junior staff rushed about while Director Dante took a step back and waited by the doorway. I walked over to the large windows and stared at the night sky until Arran tapped my shoulder and informed me that everything was done.

“Should we leave two security offices by your doorway?” Director Dante asked.

“No,” I snapped. “I can protect myself. Anyone who dares to intrude will be shot on-site. Only a sneaky lowlife thief would play games and sneak in when I’m not at home.” I was lashing out and I knew it.

Arran was the last to leave my apartment. Once the door closed, I felt drained. I cleared the table and dumped the dishes in the bin. I undressed as I walked into the bathroom and took a shower. The warm water calmed my aching body and before I slipped under the covers, I placed the gun under my pillow.

For the first time in my years on the force, I was worried and unsure of what would happen to me. When I had taken this job, I did not do a proper background check on Daxia. Instead, I relied on the information that had been prepared.

It was time I went the extra mile and look deeper into him. There would be no more games beyond what he was doing.