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Alex raised the knife above his head, but she had already scurried away. ‘I apologize, she’s not normally so—’

‘There’s nothing to apologize for, Alex. She’s just like her pizzas, simply the best. But do tell me how you won the Silver Star,’ she said, suddenly serious.

‘The truth is, it should have been awarded to the Tank, not me.’

‘The Tank?’

Alex told her everything that had happened when his unit had come across the Vietcong patrol on Bacon Hill. How the Tank had not only saved Lawrence’s life, but his as well.

‘I would love to have met him,’ said Anna quietly.

‘I don’t suppose you’d consider...’

‘Consider what?’

‘Coming to Virginia with me? I’ve wanted to visit his grave for so long, and—’

‘What girl could refuse such an offer?’ Alex looked embarrassed. ‘Of course I’ll come with you.’ She burst out laughing. ‘Why don’t we go on Sunday?’

‘Lawrence has just arrived back from Europe, so I’ll have to go and see him in Boston this weekend, and tell him what Mr Rosenthal had to say about the Warhol. But I’m free the following weekend.’

‘Then it’s a date.’

Alex stepped off the train in Boston carrying an overnight case and a large carrier bag. He hailed a yellow cab and gave the driver Lawrence’s address.

As each mile passed, Alex became more and more anxious. He knew he had no choice but to tell his friend the truth.

Lawrence was standing on the top step waiting to greet his guest as the taxi drove up the long driveway and came to a halt outside the house.

‘I see you’ve brought the picture back,’ he said as they shook hands. ‘Let’s go to my study, complete the exchange, and then we can relax for the rest of the weekend.’

Alex said nothing as he followed him across the hall. When he walked into Lawrence’s study, he remained speechless.

Almost every inch of the oak-panelled walls was filled with paintings and photographs of his family and friends. Alex’s eyes settled on Nelson Rockefeller, which made Lawrence grin as he took his place behind the desk and ushered Alex into the seat opposite him.

When he unwrapped the painting, a large smile appeared on Lawrence’s face. ‘Welcome home, Jackie,’ he said, and immediately pulled open a drawer in his desk and extracted a chequebook.

‘You won’t be needing that,’ said Alex.

‘Why not? We made a deal.’

‘Because it isn’t a Warhol. It’s a copy.’

‘A copy?’ Lawrence repeated in disbelief as he took a closer look at the painting.

‘I’m afraid so. And that’s not my view, but the opinion of no less an authority than Nathanial Rosenthal.’

Lawrence remained calm, but said almost to himself, ‘How did she manage it?’

‘I don’t know, but I can guess,’ said Alex.

Lawrence looked at the picture. ‘Once again she must have known all along.’ He opened his chequebook, took the top off his pen and wrote out the figure $500,000.

‘There’s no way I’m ever going to cash your cheque,’ said Alex. ‘So you needn’t bother signing it.’

‘You must,’ said Lawrence. ‘It’s clear that my sister’s deceived both of us.’

‘But you didn’t know,’ said Alex, ‘and that’s all that matters.’

‘But without the money you won’t be able to open Elena 2.’

‘Then it will have to wait. Anyway, I learnt more in one weekend with your sister than I’ve done in a year at business school.’

‘Perhaps we should consider an alternative plan,’ Lawrence suggested.

‘What do you have in mind?’

‘In exchange for my five hundred thousand, I get a ten per cent stake in your company. The one that’s going to end up bigger than my godfather’s.’

‘Fifty per cent would be fairer.’

‘Then let’s compromise. I’ll take fifty per cent of your burgeoning empire, but the moment you return my half a million, it will fall to ten per cent.’

‘Twenty-five per cent,’ said Alex.

‘That’s more than generous of you,’ said Lawrence as he signed the cheque.

‘It’s over-generous of you,’ said Alex. When Lawrence handed him the cheque, they shook hands for a second time.

‘Now I understand,’ said Lawrence as he placed his chequebook back in the drawer, ‘why Todd Halliday slipped away so soon after dinner on my birthday. Originally he was meant to be staying overnight.’

‘The Empress Catherine herself would have been proud of your sister,’ said Alex. ‘She knew the only way I was going to see the Warhol was if I spent the night with her.’

‘Five hundred thousand,’ said Lawrence. ‘An expensive one-night stand. However, I’ve already been working on a plan to make sure she pays back every penny. Let’s have supper.’

Lawrence waited until Alex had checked over the questions a second time. He only added the words insurance company? before he handed the crib sheet back. Lawrence nodded, took a deep breath, picked up the phone and dialled an overseas number.

He once again studied the list as he waited for one of them to answer the phone. He had chosen his time carefully: 12 noon in Boston, 6 p.m. in Nice. They should be back from lunch at La Colombe d’Or, but not yet have left for the casino in Monte Carlo.

‘Hello?’ said a familiar voice.

‘Hi, Eve, it’s me. Thought I’d bring you up to date on the Warhol.’

‘Have the police found it?’

‘Yes, it was hanging above the mantelpiece in Karpenko’s apartment in Brighton Beach. They could hardly miss it.’

‘So is it now safely back in the Jefferson room?’

‘I’m afraid not. The Boston police department decided to have the picture valued before they pressed charges, and, here’s the surprise, it turns out to be a copy.’

‘Why are you surprised?’ asked Evelyn, a little too quickly.

‘What do you mean?’ asked Lawrence innocently.

‘He obviously substituted a copy for the real thing. My bet is the original will have been smuggled out of the country. It’s probably somewhere in Russia by now.’

Somewhere in the south of France is more likely, thought Lawrence. ‘The insurance company agree with you, Eve,’ said Lawrence, checking his list, ‘and they wondered when you’d be back in Boston, as you were the last person to see Karpenko before he left for New York.’

‘I wasn’t planning on returning for some months,’ said Evelyn. ‘I assume the police have arrested your friend Karpenko.’

‘They did, but he’s out on bail. He claims he gave you a cheque for five hundred thousand dollars to invest with Todd in a start-up company, and you offered him the picture as security.’

‘The exact opposite is true,’ said Evelyn. ‘He begged me to invest some money in his pizza company, and I refused and sent him packing.’

‘But he’s produced the cheque,’ said Lawrence. ‘So it would be helpful if you could come and tell the police your version of the story.’

‘My version of the story?’ said Evelyn, her voice rising. ‘Whose side are you on, Lawrence?’

‘Yours of course, Eve, but the police are refusing to press charges until they’ve interviewed you.’

‘Then they’ll have to wait, won’t they?’ said Evelyn, slamming down the phone.

Lawrence replaced the receiver, turned to Alex, and said, ‘I have a feeling she won’t be returning for some time,’ a broad smile appearing on his face.

‘But you’ve lost your Warhol,’ said Alex.

‘I confess I’ll miss Jackie,’ said Lawrence, ‘but not Evelyn.’