The Modigliani Scandal - Ken Follett [86]
Sims nodded and Julian went out.
He drove very fast across London in the early morning. It was windy, but the roads were dry. He was guessing that Sammy and her accomplices—who presumably included the boyfriend he had met—would keep the painting at least until today.
He stopped outside the Islington house and jumped out of the car, leaving the ignition keys in. There were too many assumptions and guesses in this plan. He was impatient.
He banged hard on the knocker and waited. When there was no reply for a couple of minutes, he banged hard again.
Eventually Samantha came to the door. There was ill-concealed fear in her eyes.
″Thank God,″ Julian said, and pushed past her into the house.
Tom stood in the hall, a towel around his waist. ″What the hell do you think you′re doing, barging—ʺ
″Shut up,ʺ Julian said crisply. ʺLet′s talk downstairs, shall we?″
Tom and Samantha looked at one another. Samantha gave a slight nod, and Tom opened the door to the basement stairs. Julian went down.
He sat on the couch and said: ″I want my paint . ing back.″
Samantha said: ″I haven′t the faintest idea—ʺ
″Forget it, Sammy,″ Julian interrupted. ″I know. You broke into Lord Cardwell′s house last night to steal his pictures. They were gone, so you stole the one that was there. Unfortunately, it wasn′t his. It was mine. If you give it back to me I won′t go to the police.″
Silently, Samantha got up and went to a cupboard. She opened the door and took out the painting. She handed it to Julian.
He looked at her face. It was almost haggard: cheeks drawn, eyes wide with something which was neither anxiety nor surprise, hair uncared-for. He took the picture from her.
A sense of relief overwhelmed him. He felt quite weak.
Tom would not speak to Samantha. He had been sitting in the chair for three or four hours, smoking, gazing at nothing. She had taken him the cup of coffee Anita made, but it lay cold, untouched, on the low table.
She tried again. ″Tom, what does it matter? We shan′t be caught—he promised not to go to the police. We′ve lost nothing. It was just a lark, anyway.″
There was no reply.
Samantha laid her head back and closed her eyes. She felt drained, exhausted with a nervous kind of tiredness which would not let her relax. She wanted some pills, but they were all gone. Tom could go out and get her more, if only he would come out of his trance.
There was a knock at the front door. At last Tom moved. He looked at the doorway, warily, like a trapped animal. Samantha heard Anita′s footsteps along the hall. There was a muted conversation.
Suddenly several pairs of feet were coming down the stairs. Tom stood up.
The three men did not look at Samantha.
Two of them were heavily built, and carried themselves gracefully like athletes. The third was short. He wore a coat with a velvet collar.
It was the short one who spoke. ″You′ve let the governor down, Tom. He′s less than pleased. He wants words with you.″
Tom moved fast, but the two big men were faster. As he went for the door, one of them stuck out a foot and the other pushed Tom over it.
They picked him up, each holding an arm. There was a curious, almost sexual smile on the short man′s face. He punched Tom′s stomach with both fists, many times. He carried on long after Tom had slumped, eyes closed, in the grip of the other two.
Samantha opened her mouth wide, but she could not scream.
The little man slapped Tom′s face until his eyes opened. The four of them left the room.
Samantha heard the front door slam. Her phone rang. She picked it up automatically, and listened.
ʺOh, Joe,″ she said. ʺJoe, thank God you′re there.″ Then she began to cry.
For the second time in two days, Julian knocked on the door of Dunroamin. Moore looked surprised when he opened up.
″This time I′ve got the original,ʺ Julian said.
Moore smiled. ″I hope you have,″ he said. ″Come in, lad.″
This time he led the way to the laboratory without preamble. ″Give it here, then.″
Julian handed the picture over. ″I had a stroke of luck.ʺ
″I′ll bet you did. I think you′d better