The Vermeer

I stopped and waited.

About ten minutes later, from where I was standing at the far end of the walkway near the Cutty Sark I could see Flo enter the paved walkway along the Thames and start walking towards me. Although they had to be following her I didn't see them. An Asian woman and young daughter. Two black teenage boys, and no one else was behind her.

Then I spotted the tail, or at least one of them. A single middle-aged woman with beige jacket that had just walked past me as I stood watching, suddenly did an about face and walked back towards me and the Cutty Sark along the Thames walkway about thirty yards in front of Flo. Did she have an ear-piece? If she had a limp, I didn't see it. Her hair was pinned up but still flopped over her ears. There was either blonde or grey to the hair. I set off towards both of them. I kept my face looking out over the Thames as I passed the tail woman. I stopped walking and turned to look out over the rail to the Thames. Definitely an ear piece. While watching both, Flo approaching and the back of the tail walking away, I pulled out my handkerchief and pulled out a pen. On the little box I was carrying I quickly scrawled:

U R being followed.

Female beige jacket ahead of U

Get on U/G get off Lewisham

Take 1^st cab go to Bromley

I'll pay for cab

Open box in cab

There was a London Rail ticket already taped to the package.

As Flo approached, she was smiling at me in recognition. I put my finger to my lip. She understood.

Flo was just four paces away as I started walking towards her. I covertly slipped her the box and continued to walk past her. I couldn't risk turning around to see if she stuffed it somehow out of sight.

At this point I had to trust her.

Did they plant a tracking device on her with or without her knowledge? Most likely in her bag, which should be in the trunk of her car.

The little box I slipped her had the Irish pre-paid cell phone #1 inside together with a note: 'Turn on. Wait for call.' And a fifty pound note.

It all boiled down to this moment. I was going to call her and give the final rendezvous location. If she was being tracked in her shoe or wherever, or if she was wearing a wire and relayed her destination, I was busted and my head was going to roll. No prison in the world would be safe enough for me.

I got into my rental car and drove off towards Bromley myself. I pulled off the road and tried her Irish phone. No answer. Not turned on yet. My hands were shaking.

I gave her another five minutes and pulled off again.

"Go to the Bromley Court Hotel in Bromley. Accidentally leave your shoes in the cab, come into the hotel barefoot and ask for Buck Milligan."

"Okay."

I had two rooms booked, in a false name, of course, one on the first floor and one on the third. A small envelope with a key card in it for the third floor room was waiting for Flo from Buck Milligan at the front desk.

From my window in Room 104 I watched as Flo pulled up in the cab, she obviously paid the driver and then stepped out barefoot and strode into the lobby through the front door.

She looked lovely. My cock stirred.

Room 304 had a note and two boxes on the bed.

The note read:

'Flo,

Be naked except for what's in the two boxes.

Use hotel bathrobe and walk down stairs.

Bring cell phone and key card.

Sam.'

I watched out the window for about three minutes. I then stepped out from Room 104 and opened the door to the nearby stairwell. About two minutes later I could hear the door to the stairwell open up above me. I could hear the click-clicks of her heels, then I saw her legs as she descended.

"Flo."

"Sam, how nice to see you." She said in her stunning English accent as she opened up the bathrobe so I could see underneath.

"Flo you look absolutely charming."

I took her by her manicured hand and led her into room 104.

As soon as the door closed she dropped her bathrobe, we embraced and I gave her a long, wet kiss.

"Sammmm..."

"Wow, you look stunning, Flo." Pink fingernails clashed with her new red and black outfit.

"You always look good, Sam." She kissed me again. I broke off the embrace and walked to the window and the table beside it.

"Wine?" I gazed out the window as I opened the chilled bottle of Chardonnay.

"Sam, I got the advance!"

"Excellent. Sorry about the precautions."

"Was I really being followed?"

"Oh yes." I handed her a glass of wine.

"Sam, I've not co-operated..."

"Flo," I cut her off, "I'm not suggesting that you have."

"So why all the cloak and dagger? Oh and thanks for the bra, stockings and garter. And the shoes. It's funny, suddenly I needed a new pair of shoes."

We both chuckled. Her reddish brown pussy hairs were trimmed close, I could see her coral coloured pussy lips hanging down into the gap at the top of her thighs.

"Do they fit?"

"Yes, perfectly. Thank you."

"The red lace with black and the black fishnets looks really great on you. Sorry I didn't think it through enough to coordinate your fingernails, but it doesn't really matter." I shifted to show her the front of my pants. I was starting to tent. "See?"

"Huh ha!" she grinned, "off with your clothes, come on, Sam, we have a deal."

I sipped my wine, smiled and said, "Yes, I'm afraid it all has been a bit double O seven. For sure they're GPS tracking your personal cell phone. For sure your office is bugged. For sure your home is bugged. Your car, too. I needed to make sure they haven't slipped a tracking or recording device on you behind your back."

"I didn't see anything."

"You wouldn't." I sat down on the foot of the bed, placed my wine glass on the dresser in front of me and started unbuttoning my shirt. "Did you get a glass of wine in The Yacht?"

"Yes, thank you. Such a nice pub, and I got a thank you card."

"What was the amount of your advance?"

"Ten thousand pounds, wired into my account. I went down to Scotland Yard and handed Jill the photos. That was yesterday."

"Have you heard back from them yet?"

"Not yet."

I sighed. She sat on the bed next to me, wine glass in her left hand.

"What's wrong?" she asked and quickly caught herself, "oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything. I'm sorry."

I smiled as I continued to unbutton my shirt.

"Ah, head still attached to neck I see." Her pink fingernails started playing with my now exposed chest hairs.

"Yes, most fortunately, but we'll have to try to speed this whole process along and put in place some additional security measures." I undid the last two buttons.

"What kind of security measures?" Her whole hand was in my chest hair.

"I'll show you later. What else did they say; what else happened?"

"Well I've talked with Jill several times. The Gardner people didn't blink an eye at the proposed five million, or at my hundred thousand pound fee." Her right hand was crazy in my chest hair.

That seemed a little too good to be true. "They didn't suggest that your fee come out of the five mil?"

"No."

"Hmm, what else?" I took my socks off forcing her hand off my chest.

"I'm not entirely certain, but I believe they are having some difficulty trying to figure out their own pecking order."

"So are they a little confused?"

"Maybe."

"What's the FBI's role in all of this or the DA's office?"

Flo couldn't help but drag her pink fingernails through my chest hairs again. "I don't know really. I just know that Jill is talking to them all the time. They are just looking at the proof of life photographs themselves."

"And yet they're already on to you. Have you seen any Americans here?"

"In connection with the Vermeer? Aside from you, no."

"Anyone at all, even in a different context. Someone new and American?"

She thought for a moment. "No, I don't think so."

"Excellent."

"How about just someone new, in a different context, trying to get close to you? To be familiar?

She thought for a moment, "Not that I can think of."

"Okay."

We both sipped our wine and then placed our glasses on the dresser.

Flo took a deep breath, "One of the issues that they are dealing with is finding a suitable expert to examine the painting and declare it as the genuine article. That has them completely fuddled."

"That makes sense. There probably isn't anyone within the Gardner's current staff that has physically laid eyes on the painting, yet they need someone's opinion to trust enough."

"Jill suggested that they may find someone local, from the National Gallery or the Tate."

"That's fine, doesn't bother us. Does it?" I asked.

"No and that's what I said to Jill. And I told her we don't want a panel of experts debating for weeks or hours. Either it's the real thing, which I said will be obvious, or it's a fake, which should be fairly obvious too."

Clearly she loved my chest hair. "You took the initiative, good." But I also recognized that Flo and Jill were talking a lot on the telephone. I stood up, picked up my wine glass and walked over to the window.

"Jill asked where and when will the painting be available for viewing."

"And you said?" I continued to watch the front of the hotel. I didn't see anybody that looked like cops come screaming up.

"I told her I didn't know, but once she gets back to me with the thumbs up on the proof of life photographs and my contract from the Museum, that I will make the suitable inquiries. Are you going to take off your trousers?"

"Good. Well done, Flo, and yes, just give me a second." I took a sip of wine and then added, "Tell me, Flo, does Scotland Yard have the impression that you have the means to get in touch with me? As opposed to me only getting in touch with you?"

The question had her straighten her back up a little. "I don't know. I assume so. I've never specified and I was never asked."

"Good, don't volunteer that information, but if asked, don't deny that you can initiate the contact with me."

"They'll want to know how."

"Of course, but after all you have no actual answer. Have they asked anything about our means of communications at all?"

"No they haven't. And to be fair, Sam, I wouldn't expect them to either. I set up a strict set of boundaries when I made my deal with Jill. She knows not to even ask a question like that."

"Good."

"Is there a way that I can get in touch with you?"

I know I looked at her funny as I answered, "Maybe one day, but not today." I pulled out a pair of latex gloves.

"Why are you putting gloves on? Sorry."

"Because, I'm going to give you this box." It was a little grey faux leather box that I bought at Heathrow. I suppose it was designed to throw in some jewelry or some folded letters. Most importantly, it had a combination lock device. It was just big enough to get the phones and chargers inside without the original packing material. "I can't have Scotland Yard waltzing up to you in your house or office and coming away with this box and my finger prints." I opened the box. There were four Irish phones inside each one numbered and a bunch of chargers. SIM chips were taped to the phones.

"Cell phones," she looked at me with a puzzled look in her face.

"Yes, numbered two through five. You opened number one in the cab." She was still a little perplexed. "Flo, I'm pretty certain that the NSA heard our last cell phone conversation.

"What the one in the cab? Today?"

"No not today. The other day."

"Why would you think that?"

I held out my gloved hands, "Flo..."

"Sorry."

"Where is that cell phone? The one I gave you today?"

"In my bathrobe pocket."

I got it. It was still on. I pulled the battery out and the SIM chip.

"Flo. Listen to me very carefully. I'm going to give you first a standing instruction and then a very specific instruction."

She nodded head.

"Every day, starting tomorrow, I want you to be out of your office or home for a potential phone call from me and not in your car. In fact, nowhere near your car. Tomorrow at precisely one thirteen in the afternoon, I want you to be out of your office and not at home. You have to be at a place where there is no video camera or cameras and a place where the person who is following you cannot see you or record you either visually, your mouth moving or audibly. Are you following me so far?"

She nodded. She was a little surprised.

"I'll give you an example of a great place to be."

"Okay."

"You know the shuttle-bus boats on the Thames?"

"Yes."

"Perfect. You duck in at the very last minute before it sails and before your tail can get on board. Or how about the overland portions of the Docklands Light Railway on the Isle of Dogs? Step off the train and quickly jump back on just as the door closes, stranding your tail on the platform. Walk across the big courtyard at the Greenwich Naval Museum or how about that big Ferris wheel? Got it?"

"Do you mean the London Eye?"

"What's that?"

"The giant Ferris wheel."

"Yeah, whatever it's called."

"No, I don't like heights, besides it would probably be too busy."

"Okay, whatever, but you do understand what I'm asking you to do?"

"Yes."

"Okay, I've given you three good examples. You'll have to find your own. Don't fall into a routine. Pick someplace new every day."

"So starting tomorrow, plug in the SIM chip and turn on the phone, number two, and leave it on for five minutes only. Then turn it back off and pull out the SIM chip. That's your window time. 1:13 on, 1:18 off. If I don't call you, the next day your new window time will be precisely one hour and ten minutes later. So 2:23 to 2:28 and SIM chip out, phone off. The following day 3:33 to 3:38. Use cell phone time, not a watch. Are you following me?"

"Yes."

"Good. When I call you, we'll talk about what we have to talk about, with no formal names of course..."

"Of course."

"And then I will give you a new time window for the next day and if I don't call you the next day, you will continue with the same at one hour and ten minute interval increment day after day until you hear from me. And then the cycle repeats with a new start window time that I'll give you the next time we talk. And, and this is very important, when we finish our conversations, you will turn the phone off, pull the battery out and the SIM and surreptitiously get rid of the phone. Don't throw it into the Thames so that everyone can see like I did. Toss your Coke container into the bin with the phone hidden inside. Be imaginative. Do not follow a routine. It and its signal just have to disappear forever. Remember, someone is watching and listening to you all the time. When you leave the house, or your office there are a number of people that will be following you. They're probably going through your garbage as we speak."

Her eyes were wide open in almost disbelief.

"Your real cell phone, your personal cell phone is like a big, pink, helium balloon attached to your head. Never bring it with you when you go out for our phone call window. That alerts the whole world where you are. You need to use your personal cell phone to your advantage."

"How?"

"Leave it on your desk, slip out the back door. Buy a new handbag, leave it in your old bag under your bed making it look like you're sick that day. Don't even carry one the next day. Buy new shoes. Examine your clothes all the time, look for wires, look for any disturbance., especially in your purse and shoes. These fuckers are getting unbelievably miniature with their sneaky little devices. Leave your personal cell phone in your car and slip out the backdoor of the pub you just walked into and duck into the underground. Or pull the battery and SIM chip out of your phone as you take a lift in an office building and then exit through the underground food court. Use your imagination."

"Sounds like fun."

"Well yes, except it is called self-preservation. There are only so many resources they can assign to this. We need to outgun them in the clandestine department. The sovereignty of Britain is not on the line here; you're not an Al Qaeda or ISIS operative, it's just a painting owned by Americans. I want the FBI and the DA's office to get tired of hearing, 'She gave us the slip, again.' We need them to be screaming at each other with every new development. On the other hand, their own agents may be here. We just don't know. And they are professionals at this sort of thing."

Flo was smiling. I think she was getting it.

"The same applies to your laptop, tablet, whatever wi-fi devices you have. Just leave it at home or in your office. Those are like big purple balloons. Remember, your car in going to be bugged and have a GPS tracking device on it."

Maybe it was too much, too fast for her.

"Flo, what they want to do, is track you and your car to your clandestine meeting with me and take me out. Yes, they want to recover the Vermeer first, but take me out. They want to record your conversations with me so that they have evidence in court. And then they will want to use that evidence to get the rest of the stolen goods. Are you following me?"

She nodded.

"We can't let them do that. They're cops. They do cop stuff. They are very predictable in their motivation and methods. That's how they think. That's all they know. It's the law."

She sat there staring at me in disbelief.

"Every time you go out for your phone call window, they are going to think that you are about to rendezvous with me."

"Really?"

"Oh yes, and they will be following you in earnest. And tracking you. That's why you need to give them a slip move. Every time."

She took a sip of her wine and put the glass back down.

"And once you give your tail the slip, like you just did, they will become very eager to plant a device on you. In your shoe, in your bag, wherever, if they haven't done that already. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Okay, good."

With both took sips of our wine. I knew that I'd managed to suck the sexual playfulness right out of the air. I had to, to go on with the business at hand.

"Okay, now, Flo, is there someone in close proximity to you that you can trust? Trust ultimately with your life?"

She looked a little horrified. "What do you mean in close proximity?"

"Someone physically in close proximity to where you work or live. Across the hall, just downstairs, two doors down. Someone you can trust. You won't be telling them about the Vermeer or what you're doing. They have to quietly and confidentially hold this box for you and be trusted enough not to look inside. The combination lock on this hasn't been set yet, the instructions are right here." I pointed to a paper label on the inside of the lid.

She thought for a moment and said, "Yes, there is, but I don't want them in any way to get involved in this or be exposed to danger."

"Who is it?"

"I'm not going to say. I don't want to get them in trouble."

"They'll only get in trouble if they go to the police. Give me the name."

"Why?"

"Flo, don't ask me fucking questions. What's the name?"

She paused for a second. "Laura Berger."

I heard that name before. "She works with you, doesn't she?"

I could see that it suddenly dawned on Flo that it was Laura who had called her and gave her my cell phone number prior to our initial contact.

"Please don't."

"I won't. All she needs to do is hold that box in trust and not look inside. She'll have to make it readily available to you on a moment's notice. Will she do that?"

"Yes, I think so."

"I hope so. Make sure it's locked, for Laura's safety."

We stared at each other for a moment.

"Flo?"

"Yes?"

"When you parked at Greenwich today, were you alone?"

She hesitated for too long a moment.

"No."

"Who was with you?"

She paused again, for too long a time.