Art and Murder

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Authors: Don Easton
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meet? Anything at all that would help?”
    â€œNo. The French telecom’s centre was receiving the information through a call from their operative a few minutes ago. Then their dispatch —”
    â€œWas receiving?” Laura asked. “What do you mean?”
    â€œAs the operative was talking, dispatch heard what sounded like a gunshot at close range. No word from their man since then.”
    â€œOh, my God.” Laura looked at her phone like it wasn’t real, then put it back to her ear. She felt like she wanted to vomit and tears clouded her vision.
    â€œThey’ve got a cover team checking now to … hang on. Gotta put you on hold. Incoming call.”
    Laura swallowed a couple of times to clear the bile in her throat and sat in stunned silence until Rose came back on line. “It’s confirmed,” she said. “The French officer was shot in the head by an unidentified person. They have a rough description of the man who did it, but so far there’ve been no arrests.”
    Laura fought back the tears, not knowing what to say.
    â€œCan your source help us?” Rose asked.
    â€œNo.”
    â€œThen get clear and call me.”
    â€œI’ll call in a couple of minutes,” Laura said. As soon as she hung up, she dialled Jack and as the phone rang, she looked at Brandy. “Get a move on! We’re outta here!”
    â€œI’m ready. Where we going?” Brandy asked. “What’s going on?”
    Laura’s call went to voice message. She thought of Klaus as her mind filled with rage. “What’s going on is I’m going to the nearest emergency room.”
    â€œI don’t need to,” Brandy said. “They worked me over pretty good, but I want to go home and —”
    â€œIt’s not for you.” Laura’s tone was harsh. “I’ll drop you off a block or two away as soon as it’s safe. You can call a cab.”
    â€œOh, you’re going to follow Klaus away from the hospital,” Brandy said.
    I don’t have time to follow him, Laura thought, tucking the shotgun under her jacket. Immediate persuasion would be needed. When I find him, he’ll phone and beg for Jack’s life as if it was his own … if I’m not too late.

Chapter Eleven
    When Anton shot Clive, Jack dropped the bag of cocaine and ducked behind the table saw.
    Anton stepped over Clive’s body as he approached and waved his .32 Beretta back and forth, pointing it at each side of the saw. “Come out, come out, wherever you are!” He exchanged a grin with Bojan.
    â€œWant to play games?” Jack said. “Well, guess what, asshole, my gun is bigger than yours.”
    Neither Anton nor Bojan were smiling when they glimpsed a 9mm pistol pointing at them from above the table saw and Jack’s face peeking out from behind. “Drop it!” Jack barked, “or I will sure as hell drop the both of you!”
    Anton must have known he was an easy target and lowered his gun.
    â€œI said drop it! If I intended to kill you, you’d both be dead already.”
    Anton dropped the gun.
    â€œThe both of you, no talking, put your hands over your head and turn around and take three steps,” Jack demanded.
    Anton and Bojan nervously complied. Jack came out, scooped up the Beretta, and stuck it in his waistband before making them lean against the wall to be searched. He took a phone from Bojan’s pocket and two phones from Anton. He then had them both lie face down on the floor. He was going to use their belts to tie them up, but spotted a roll of duct tape and a box cutter lying on a pile of bubble wrap.
    He ordered Anton to tape Bojan’s hands behind his back and bind his ankles. When he was finished, Jack had Anton bind his own ankles and then lie face down on the floor again while he tied his hands behind his back.
    After checking to ensure that Bojan was secure, he yelled, “Where’s the

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