Chapter 5 - The Empty Crates
We reached the Vance Meridian at 1:40 in the morning with police and our insurer's art-security specialist.
The basement vault required two credentials.
Mine still worked.
The second belonged to the collection manager, Linda Cho.
Linda arrived in sweatpants and an old university hoodie.
"Thomas, what is happening?"
"We're checking the Meridian inventory."
"At two in the morning?"
"Yes."
She looked at the police.
Then stopped asking.
The vault held eighty-two crates.
Nine should have contained the red-flagged paintings.
We opened the first under video documentation.
Inside was a framed print worth maybe three hundred dollars.
The second crate held another substitute.
By crate four, Linda was crying.
"I checked seals when they came in."
"Who assigned the transport?" Priya asked.
Linda wiped her face.
"Evelyn. She said Thomas approved a private conservation contractor."
I had approved conservation.
I had not approved that contractor.
The vendor was called Northline Fine Art Logistics.
I recognized the name from invoices.
Genevieve had included it on the USB.
Its registered manager was Sebastian Mercer.
Evelyn's brother.
The man she told me did not exist.
Police secured the vault.
The FBI took over art-related evidence the next morning.
By noon, we knew six of the nine paintings had been removed from our possession within the previous month.
Three had never actually entered the vault at all.
The crates arrived sealed.
Paperwork said paintings were inside.
No one opened them because the renovation schedule called for later condition checks.
Our controls had trusted seals, manifests, and people.
Mostly people.
My phone rang.
Marianne.
My ex-wife.
We had been divorced two and a half years.
We spoke rarely outside family matters.
"Thomas, is Genevieve safe?"
"Yes."
A pause.
"And Toby?"
"Yes."
"Good."
I waited for anger.
Marianne had earned it.
Instead she said, "I warned you Evelyn knew too much about you before she should have."
I remembered.
During the divorce Marianne said Evelyn seemed to have studied my weaknesses.
I accused her of jealousy.
"You were right."
"About that, maybe. Not about everything."
Her restraint made me feel worse.
"Did Evelyn ever contact you?"
Silence.
"Marianne?"
"Once. Before the divorce was final."
My chest tightened.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I thought it was pathetic."
"What did she say?"
"She offered me money to stop contesting the hotel art collection in the marital property schedule."
I stood very still.
"What?"
"She said the paintings were complicated and you needed clean ownership after the divorce."
I had never heard that.
Marianne continued.
"I told my lawyer. He said the collection belonged mostly to the company, not us personally, so it didn't matter."
It mattered now.
Evelyn had been thinking about title, ownership, and the collection before she was even legally free to become my fiancee.
Then Priya walked into the vault holding a printout.
"Thomas."
Her face was pale.
"One of the missing paintings was shipped yesterday."
"Where?"
"Toronto."
"To whom?"
Priya looked at the company name.
"Mercer Provenance Services."
The dead company was operating again.
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