The four of them settled around the large formal table in the dining room of the Hart's hotel suite. The Harts traveled first class, their current accommodations would be considered luxurious by anyone's standards. The suite was larger than many homes and was furnished exquisitely. The smell of coffee permeated the room as Claire had brewed a large pot in preparation for what was sure to be a long and emotionally exhausting morning.
Constantine Wainwright sat there before them, wringing his hands nervously. Though he was nearly the same age as Jennifer's father, the years had not been nearly as kind to him. Or perhaps it was the events of recent days that created the all too familiar worried look on his face. He had always been a strong man, both physically and emotionally. In his younger years he had been a physically intimidating man, standing nearly six and a half feet tall, with a lean, yet muscular, body structure. His deep, booming voice had commanded respect from everyone he met, especially his subordinates at the bureau. The man who sat before the Harts that afternoon was merely a shadow of that man. His graying hair had receded beyond the crown of his head. He sat there, with both his head and shoulders dropped forward, looking as vulnerable as a small child. The wrinkles that had formed on his face through the years seemed to deepen as he agonized over the twists and turns which had brought him to this moment.
"Ok, Conny, tell us what you know about all of this." Jonathan's inquiring mind was filled with questions but he thought it best to allow the elder gentleman to tell the story in his own way. "Start wherever you like."
"It's all so complicated...so convoluted...I'm not sure where to begin..."
His voice was abruptly interrupted by Claire, who was undoubtedly the most confused of them all. "Conny, I need to know how it is possible that my husband was deceiving me during our marriage and I was oblivious to that fact. You KNEW that he was also known as Kyle Rothenberg but you failed to tell me that?" The volume of her voice was rising, as well as her level of irritation. "I thought you cared about me? You didn't think it was important that I know?"
"Claire, I would NEVER have kept something like that from you. The fact is, I didn't even know that your husband and Kyle Rothenberg were the same person until just yesterday. When Steven told me about the notes referring to the 'mother and child', I realized that your ex-husband was connected to this whole thing. When I contacted one of my old friends at the bureau to run a check on the activities of Matthew Townsend, I was informed that he was now using the name Kyle Rothenberg." He paused, gathering his thoughts. "I did, however, keep something else from you. I never lied to you, but the fact was that your husband and I knew each other long before you and I met and began our relationship. That is why I was always so worried about Matthew finding out about us. That's the main reason I suggested that when I wrote you, I would address the letters to Suzanne. You see, your husband and I were stationed together for a short stint during the war. I never really considered us to be friends, but there was a bond there that was never severed."
Claire sat speechless, a blank expression on her face. She fidgeted with the kleenex that she had been holding in her hand, as if she didn't know what else to do or say. Jonathan continued to probe for more information. "What kind of a bond? I'm not sure I understand what you mean."
"For a short time, Matthew and I were working as undercover operatives as part of an operation along the coast of France. The CIA was participating in a joint venture with British Intelligence. He and I were chosen because we had worked closely with British officials on several occasions. I won't go into the details, but we found ourselves in a rather sticky situation, and ultimately I ended up severely wounded by a sniper's bullet. I was near death, and the best thing that Matthew could have done for his own sake would have been to leave me behind and save himself, but he didn't. He patched me up, as best he could with the supplies on hand, and carried me on his back for nearly three days, until we reached the base where we had been stationed. The area was covered with snipers but he had risked his life to save mine. After I had recovered, I promised Matthew that if there was ever anything I could do to repay him that he need only ask. Had I known then what he would become, I would never have made that promise."
"I assume he came to you one day looking for you to fulfill that promise?" Jennifer asked, sounding somewhat puzzled. "What did he ask you do?"
"After the war, Matthew had begun working in the art business. He opened his own business, buying and selling rare and valuable paintings and sculptures. He had galleries in both London and the United States. He had quite an extensive collection of his own, as Claire can attest to, and a deep appreciation of the finer things in life."
Claire nodded in agreement and then added to the conversation, "That is how Matthew and I first met. I was attending an event at his London gallery and he approached me about doing a showing of my work. I was just starting to exhibit my paintings and it was a huge boost for my career. I was driven to become successful, I suppose that is why I ended up with him. Not that I didn't care about him, but the name Townsend meant something in the art world and at that point in my life that was important..." Her voice trailed off. "After the divorce I changed my philosophy completely, I began painting for my love of art and the enjoyment it brought me, rather than the financial rewards and prestige it might bring me. I wish I could have discovered that sooner. I should have known it would never work anyway, I was determined to stay in Paris and his work took him to London and the states most of the time."
Jennifer and Jonathan exchanged a glance, each of them wondering silently where this tale would take them.
Conny began again, "Through one of his many connections, Matthew learned of a set of plans, drawn up by Leonardo Da Vinci, that were available in Paris from a former CIA agent who was known to deal in stolen items. These plans had disappeared many years before...I don't know how they happened to surface in Paris...they had been stolen from a museum in Madrid where they had been on display as part of a traveling exhibit. Anyway, as soon as Matthew heard of them, he was relentless in his pursuit. Unfortunately, Matthew had been obtaining other priceless works of art through somewhat unconventional channels and the CIA was monitoring the shipments to and from his galleries. Some of Matthew's friends at the bureau had informed him of this and he realized he would need to find another way to acquire the plans." Conny paused. "That is when he remembered my promise. He knew that I was still with the CIA and enlisted me to help him get the plans. I resisted at first... I knew it wasn't right...but eventually he convinced me to help. I felt that I owed him something for saving my life, I guess. I tried to figure out a way to secure the plans through my connections at the CIA but it was just too risky. I knew I would be able to get the plans from the dealer in Paris but the problem would be getting them through customs and into the States."
Jennifer was beginning to understand how her father came to be involved in this whole mess. "So that's where my father fits into the picture? You needed him to get the plans into the country and you thought his gallery would be the perfect cover. No one would suspect a well-respected man like my father of smuggling." She felt herself becoming resentful, and even angry, with the man sitting before her. "How could you do this to him?"
Conny could understand why Jennifer was furious with him. "Jennifer, there's no excuse for what I did. All I can tell you is that I never dreamed that it would turn out like this. I thought it would be simple, and that it would wipe the slate clean with Townsend....if I had just known."
"So, then what happened?" Jonathan wondered aloud, "We already know from Steven that he was able to bring the statue into the country. How much of what was going on did Steven know?"
Conny took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. "I didn't tell him all the details. I just told him that I needed his help in obtaining the statue and shipping it to DC. I did tell him that there was something inside the statue, but I didn't tell him the truth. I told him it was military plans for the CIA. So naturally, being the type of man that he is, Steven was willing to do anything that would be helpful to the government. I told him that there were some leaks in the personnel, that some of them had been stealing plans and selling them to foreign governments and that's why I needed his help. He didn't ask any more questions, he just complied with my request. His blind trust in me made me feel even worse."
"And then?" Jennifer asked, wondering where the plan had gone wrong.
"And then things began to fall apart," Conny explained. "An associate of Matthew's came to me and told me that Matthew had confided in him that after he received the statue from me he was going to have me "eliminated"...he didn't want any loose ends. Although the man was an employee of Matthew's, he just couldn't stand by and let a murder occur. I didn't know what to do. So I made the decision to hide the statue and tell Matthew that I wasn't able to obtain it for him. I figured he would have no reason to hurt me if I didn't have any evidence against him."
Jonathan questioned him further, "I'm guessing that didn't sit too well with Matthew? How did he react?"
"He was enraged, to say the least. I thought he was going to kill me, then and there. He wanted to know about the arrangements that I had made for the sculpture's transfer, and I told him, a decision I now regret."
"What do you mean?" Jennifer felt as if she were interrogating the man. She was beginning to calm down and her thoughts were more rational.
Constantine Wainright turned to face Jennifer, almost glad that his eyes wouldn't allow him to see her. "Considering recent events, I guess he must have drawn the conclusion that your father had double crossed us. That must be why this vendetta is aimed at him and not me. As soon as your father told me about the note which referred to the 'mother and child', I knew what this was about." Conny's face fell into his hands and his body shook, almost violently. "I never implied to Matthew that your father had stolen the plans...I swear to you...I never dreamed that anything would happen to Suzanne, or to anyone else for that matter. When he left me alone, I thought it was over. I didn't realize it would be the beginning of your family's nightmare."
Jennifer knew that the man was in pain and she knew there was no point in adding to that pain by blaming him for the events that had transpired. "I believe you," she said softly.
Jonathan was anxious to end this story; he was more concerned with coming up with a plan to save Steven's life. "So, you hid the statue, with the plans inside, in the basement of Claire's house, right under Matthew's nose?"
A smirk crossed Conny's lips before he spoke. "I thought it would be the last place that he would look, right under his nose. I guess it was my way of having the last laugh." He hesitated and wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. "I guess it wasn't so funny after all."
"Wait a minute, Conny. This was all happening during the time that you and I were involved?" Claire was confused, this was all so much to comprehend.
Conny laughed softly and shook his head. "It's all so ironic, Claire. It was during this same time that Steven and Suzanne invited me to come with them to dinner at your house in Paris. I was there to secure the statue for your husband and he was in the states awaiting its arrival, so I knew there was no chance of us crossing paths. That's the only reason I accepted the invitation. I didn't tell you that I knew your husband from the war because I didn't want you to mention to him that I had been there. And even Steven didn't know about the connection between myself and your husband so I didn't see the point in bringing it up."
"Was your relationship with me all part of the game, Conny?" Claire asked hesitantly, unsure if she really wanted the answer.
"No, Claire, everything I ever said to you was the truth. I knew I shouldn't involve myself in your life but it just happened. I really did care for you...I still do."
Jennifer and Jonathan suddenly felt as if they were intruding on a private moment between two people with unfinished business between them. Claire and Conny undoubtedly had a great many things to say to each other, unfortunately, there was no time for that now.
Jennifer's mind was whirling, still filled with a million unanswered questions. Suddenly, there was one that needed to be asked. She looked at Conny and asked, "Where does the name Kyle Rothenberg fit in? If you know him as Matthew Townsend, and my father knows him by that same name, where does the name Kyle Rothenberg fit in?"
Meanwhile, in a hotel room across town, that very question was being answered. After speaking with Jennifer, Rothenberg had settled down on the couch of Steven's hotel room, a smug look of victory on his face. He was sure that Jennifer and Jonathan would come through for him. He knew of Jennifer's devotion to her father and was sure he would be able to exploit it. In less than 72 hours the plans would be his, ending a quest that had begun more than 40 years before.
Steven Edward's voice drew him out of his thoughts. "What do you plan to do with me Kyle? Or should I call you Matthew?"
"Nothing...As long as your precious Jennifer brings me the plans. Don't worry Steven, you'll be fine. Would I hurt my former brother-in-law?"
"I need to know, Kyle, did you kill my wife?" Just speaking the words caused it to become more real for Steven. He thought he knew the answer, but he needed to hear Kyle say the words.
"Oh Steven, it was so sad really. She didn't need to die...if you had only been able to follow instructions. But you had to get greedy and steal the plans for yourself. It's too bad...she was such a beautiful woman...I almost hated to do it." He chuckled softly, yet his laughter was filled with pure evil.
Steven lurched forward out of the reclining chair he had been seated in, driven by an anger so deep he could no longer contain it. He grabbed for throat of the man who had murdered his wife and stopped only when he felt the cold metal tip of the man's Beretta pressing into the side of his head. He backed away slowly, his eyes never releasing Kyle from his stare, as if somehow he could will him to die. Kyle motioned, with the hand holding the gun, for him to retreat. He complied, slowly moving back to the chair he had been seated in.
"That was really stupid, Edwards. Do you want to live to see your daughter again? One more move like that and Jennifer is an orphan. Do you understand?" Kyle's voice was powerful and filled with a hatred unlike anything Steven had ever heard before. There was no question that he meant business.
Steven had never felt betrayal like what he was feeling at that moment. This man had been a part of his family, his friend. Not long after Suzanne's death, Matthew, as he was known then, had come to him for help. He had told Steven that he had been experiencing financial problems and wondered if he might be able to help him get another art gallery off the ground. He had made some bad investments, he had told Steven, and lost everything. He just needed some investment capital and he was sure he could become a success again. Steven had heard the rumors--that Matthew was involved in illegal activities, that he had been the victim of blackmail, that the CIA was monitoring his imports and exports--but he had helped him anyway. He hadn't even questioned him when Matthew had told him that he was legally changing his name to Kyle Rothenberg, an old family name, in an effort to gain respectability again. Matthew had explained that too many people had known of his failure and that this would provide him with a fresh start. People would trust Kyle Rothenberg but they would turn and run from Matthew Townsend. His reputation had been destroyed in the art world, he had told Steven. Steven had secretly wondered what Matthew was really running from but hadn't pushed him about it. So Steven had willingly invested in "Kyle's" new gallery and helped him out whenever he could, never suspecting the grudge that the other man had held against him for so many years.
Steven pulled himself out of his thoughts of the past and glared at Kyle Rothenberg, seated on the edge of the couch, watching the news intently. Kyle was almost the same age as Steven, though he hadn't aged nearly as well. There was a sad look in his eyes, and Steven didn't think he looked well. His eyes appeared to be receded into his gaunt face and though the gun he held caused him to be intimidating, without it he would have appeared weak, almost pathetic.
"Why did you do it, Kyle?" Steven begged. "I don't understand any of this. You murdered my wife so many years ago, without even a clue, and now you return to threaten my daughter. It doesn't make any sense. Why didn't you just come to me and ask me if I had the plans? Don't you think if I had them I would gladly have given them to you in exchange for my wife's life?"
Kyle Rothenberg clicked off the television set, setting the remote control down on the stand next to the couch, and focusing his attention on his former brother-in-law. "Steven, I never wanted you involved in this in the first place. You can thank your old friend, Constantine Wainwright, for that. He is the one who dragged you into this. I merely asked him to secure some plans for me and he was too damn incompetent to do it himself. Don't hate me, Steven, hate him."
"He isn't the one who killed my wife, Kyle. And he isn't the one who is holding the gun on me right now." Steven's voice was strong and filled with hatred. "A question then dawned on him...How is it that you know Conny anyway? In all of the years that I have known both of you, neither of you has ever mentioned the other."
"Conny and I were old friends from the time we spent in Paris during the war. There was an unpaid debt that Conny needed to make good on and I thought that this would be a perfect opportunity for him to do that."
"How lucky for him," Steven replied sarcastically.
"Conny told me all about his plans, and your part in them. After the attempt to get the plans fell through, I continued on with my business, but the fact that I had been unable to obtain this priceless possession continued to eat away at me. It wasn't until my gallery began to fail that I started to feel the anger. Anger at you...for stealing those plans away from me. I admit, the anger got the best of me, and instead of focusing my attentions on getting the plans back, I decided that revenge would have a sweeter taste. After having spent so much time with you and Suzanne in Paris, and seeing how you adored her, I knew that the way to get to you was through her. So I killed her." His voice was cold, without even a trace of remorse. "It really was easy, Steven. I have a high mechanical aptitude, you see. A few minor adjustments to Suzanne's car....that's all it took." He looked around the room quickly before returning to meet Steven's gaze. "I followed her when she left the house...I almost had second thoughts as her car began down the steep hill...but you'll be happy to know that it happened fast, I don't think she felt a thing."
Steven began to shake with the intense emotion that was flowing through his body. A line of sweat formed on his brow and slowly trickled down his face. His heart was pounding and he had never felt this out of control before. The only thing that kept him from ending the life of the man in front of him was the gun aimed at his heart.
"Calm down, Steven, you're gonna explode, old buddy." He laughed, a full belly laugh, which further provoked Steven's temper.
"So why are you doing this now? It has been years, Kyle. I haven't seen you since I invested in your new gallery, and now suddenly you are back with a vengeance?" He wondered how a man that he had once considered a friend could be so diabolical and cruel.
"Well Steven, it's like this...About two months ago I received some unfortunate news. It seems that I am dying, the doctors think I have about 6 months left, tops. When you receive news like that you tend to review your life, your successes...and your failures. My biggest regret was that I never gained possession of those plans." He smiled at the mere thought of the previously unattainable prize. "Steven, those plans are a masterpiece, a collection of works by none other than Leonardo Da Vinci. Who wouldn't want to own them? I know you understand, after all, it was you that stole them! So I thought now would be the perfect time to make one last attempt at getting them. What have I got to lose?"
"So you started sending me the threats and following my daughter?"
"Oh no, Steven. I'm much too old to be bothered with that sort of thing. But I did employ someone to perform a little surveillance on my behalf. I trust you appreciated his talent in the area of photography?"
"Kyle, for the last time, I don't have the plans you are looking for. In fact, I have never even seen them. I transported the statue of the mother and child, as requested by Conny, and he picked it up at my gallery when it arrived. Jennifer doesn't know anything about this...It's Conny that you need to be speaking with!" He was becoming frustrated at his inability to convey to the other man that he was powerless to help him.
"Well, it's your lucky day then, Steven. My source tells me that at this very moment your lovely daughter and her husband are with the Mr. Wainwright and my ex-wife, Claire, at their hotel suite. I'm sure they can come up with some brilliant plan to get the plans to me. After all, your life depends on it....And the clock is ticking."
