“Patience, Mr. Keller.”
Another minute passed, then the Ukrainian bank executive announced, “We have the money. On behalf of the Ukrainian people, I thank you for your generous contribution to our war effort.”
“Glad to be of assistance. Please spend it wisely.” Christopher killed the call and raised his glass toward Ingrid. “It was a pleasure working with you again.”
“The pleasure was all mine.” She looked at Martin and said, “I could use a lift back to Denmark, if you wouldn’t mind.”
“How about Saint-Barthélemy instead? I’ve rented an enormous villa in Pointe Milou for the holidays.”
“It sounds lovely. But I don’t have a stitch of clothing.”
“All the better,” said Martin with a smile.
“What about Mrs. Landesmann?”
“Monique flew to the Caribbean this morning on my Boeing Business Jet.”
Ingrid was apoplectic. “Separate transatlantic flights?”
Martin sipped his champagne. “We all have to make sacrifices, Ms. Johansen.”
Part Three
Sprezzatura
40
Ventimiglia
The French police officers deposited Gabriel on the other side of the border in the faded Ligurian resort town of Ventimiglia. Luca Rossetti, in gabardine trousers and a woolen pullover, was drinking coffee at a little bar along the waterfront. Gabriel sat down at Rossetti’s table and placed the museum case upright on the floor. The Carabinieri officer ignored it.
“How was the drive?” he asked.
“Longer than expected.”
“Those idiot French cops couldn’t find Italy?”
“Franco Tedeschi moved the goalposts.”
“But the sale went smoothly?”
Gabriel nodded. “And the money is now in the hands of the Ukrainian government.”
“There’s going to be hell to pay.”
“And then some,” added Gabriel.
Rossetti signaled the barman and ordered two coffees.
“Shouldn’t we be leaving, Luca?”
“What’s the rush?”
Gabriel lowered his eyes toward the museum case.
“Don’t worry, we’re safe here.”
“Are you suggesting there are no mafiosi in Liguria?”
