False Impression

“Why do you need my assistance?” asked Anna. “I thought you had arrested Leapman and he was safely under lock and key.”

“We released him this morning,” said Macy.

“Released him?” said Anna. “Wasn’t two million enough?”

“More than enough,” admitted Macy, “which is why I became involved. My specialty is plea bargaining, and just after nine o’clock this morning, Leapman signed an agreement with the Southern District federal prosecutor to ensure that if he fully cooperates with our investigation, he’ll end up with only a five-year sentence.”

“But that still doesn’t explain why you’ve released him,” said Anna.

“Because Leapman claims he can show a direct financial link between Fenston and Krantz, but he needs to return to their Wall Street office so he can get his hands on all the relevant documents, including numbered accounts, and several illegal payments into different bank accounts around the world.”

“He could be double-crossing you,” said Anna. “After all, most of the documents that would implicate Fenston were destroyed when the North Tower collapsed.”

“True,” said Macy, “but if he is, I’ve made it clear he can look forward to spending the rest of his life in Sing Sing.”

“That’s quite an incentive,” admitted Anna.

“Leapman’s also agreed to appear as a government witness,” said Jack, “should the case come to trial.”

“Then let’s be thankful that Krantz is safely locked up, otherwise your star witness wouldn’t even make it to the courthouse.”

Macy looked across at Jack, unable to mask his surprise. “You haven’t read today’s final edition of The New York Times?” he asked, turning to face Anna.

“No,” said Anna, having no idea what they were talking about.

Macy opened the file, extracted an article, and passed the clipping across to Anna.

Olga Krantz, known as the “kitchen knife killer” because of the role she played as an executioner in Ceausescu’s brutal regime, disappeared from a high-security hospital in Bucharest last night. Krantz is thought to have escaped down a waste-disposal shaft dressed in the clothes of a hospital porter. One of the policemen who had been guarding her was later discovered with his . . .

“I’m going to be looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life,” said Anna, long before she’d reached the last paragraph.

“I don’t think so,” said Jack. “Krantz won’t be in a hurry to return to America, now that she’s joined nine men on the FBI’s most wanted list. She’ll also realize that we’ve circulated a detailed description of her to every port of entry, as well as Interpol. If she were to be stopped and searched, she’d have some trouble explaining the bullet wound in her right shoulder.”

“But that won’t stop Fenston seeking revenge.”

“Why should he bother?” asked Jack. “Now that he’s got the Van Gogh, you’re history.”

“But he hasn’t got the Van Gogh,” said Anna, bowing her head.

“What do you mean?” asked Jack.

“I had a call from Tina, just before I left to come to this meeting. She warned me that Fenston had called in an expert from Christie’s so that he could have the painting valued for insurance. Something he’s never done before.”

“But why should that cause any problems?” asked Jack.

Anna raised her head. “Because it’s a fake.”

“A fake?” both men said in unison.

“Yes, that’s why I had to fly to Bucharest. I was having a copy made by an old friend who’s a brilliant portrait artist.”

“Which would explain the drawing in your apartment,” said Jack.

“You’ve been in my apartment?” said Anna.

“Only when I believed that your life was in danger,” said Jack quietly.

“But—,” began Anna.