Shark and Octopus Page 3

  The question was so unexpected, Griffin had no doubt the man answered honestly.

  “Spanish, you say? Not Italian?”

  “Spanish.”

  “No. I know no such individual that you describe.”

  “It’d be better if you did, since he’s got the real key. The museum still has the replica.”

  “You have failed me, Mr. Gilmore?” Duke Ferlinghetti asked, through clenched teeth.

  He looked Griffin up and down with blatant disgust. Now I know how a cockroach spotted on the kitchen floor feels, Griffin thought.

  The Duke tightened his grip on the bottled water. At this point Griffin knew he was in a race. If he explained what had happened at the museum fast enough, the Duke’s noble anger might be restricted to screaming. Otherwise, the water and whatever else was within his reach would go airborne.

  Griffin, always a fast talker, spoke as quickly as he could. To his ears he sounded as speedy as a legal disclaimer at the end of a commercial. But he was not fast enough, not nearly.

  He was describing the man in white’s climbing into the huge, ancient car when the Duke cleared his throat and the bottled water came tomahawking in Griffin’s direction.

  The Estruca spun in around chest high. Griffin was able to sidestep the incoming bottle, giving it a clean olè, but Kit never saw the bottle coming. The Etrusca hit his chauffeur’s cap, sending it flying.

  Griffin knew he should have simply left at that point, or at the very least kept his mouth shut. But prudent behavior had never been his strong point.

  “You sure you don’t know this man in white?” he asked. “He sure knows a lot about you.”

  Next object airborne was a glass of wine, heaved in Bobby’s direction. Bobby easily avoided the glass, but wine flew everywhere, including onto his slacks.

  “Tell me,” Bobby said. “Does your ancestral wine go with grilled curried shrimp?”

  The Duke heaved another glass, aimed at Annie, but which caught Gretchen on the jaw.

  “Get out,” he ordered.

  They did not have to be told twice. From the hallway they heard Duke Ferlinghetti yell, “Forget about your money! Forget about my key!”

  As an exclamation point, a bottle slammed against the door they had stepped through minutes earlier.

  “I’ll forget about the money,” Griffin said, loudly enough for Annie, Bobby, and Kit to hear. “But I’m not forgetting about the key.”

  FOUR

  June 5

  9:35 am

  The next morning the four of them were having coffee in the living room of Annie and Griffin’s house in Parkville.

  “From now on,” Griffin told Annie, Bobby, and Kit, “we’re working on contingency. I can’t even guarantee that. If none of you is interested in continuing with this, I’d understand. But I want – I badly want – to get that key back. And I can’t imagine doing so without your help.”

  Kit, who lived in a renovated garage behind the house, answered quickly, flashing his gap toothed grin, “Nah, I’m in.” Annie said, “So of course.” Bobby nodded to show he was in as well. He poured himself another cup of coffee. Bobby had gone cold turkey on the booze earlier in the year and Griffin knew some mornings were difficult. This seemed to be one of those mornings. Bobby’s cup shook as he sipped.

  “So. What do we do now, Griffin?” Annie asked.

  Griffin paced by the open screen door. Temps had already slammed past 90, by nine o’clock. Another hot, muggy Baltimore summer day was muscling in.

  Griffin explained, “This morning I’d like the three of you to call on our contact in the federal government.”

  “You mean Grace,” Annie said.

  “Sure. See Grace in Washington. Tell her what happened last night. Duke Ferlinghetti is obnoxious and condescending, but he’s got clout in Italian politics. He’s a steady ally of American interests in the European Union. Grace helped arrange the museum’s cooperation for last night. She’ll want to know how it went down anyway.

  “If you can, find out from Grace who this man in white is. Why’s he so interested in the key? He’s Spanish, we know that. Does the Ferlinghetti family have some kind of beef with some Spanish noble from centuries ago? Gotta say – the man in white carries himself like a count or baron or whatever. Whoever he is, he went through enormous trouble – and would have killed me if necessary – to get that key. We need to know why.

  “Is he a collector of historical artifacts? Does he buy and sell and steal them for a living or a hobby? Why else did he go through all the trouble he obviously did? Grace can contact Interpol or whoever handles trade in stolen artifacts in Europe. We can’t give her much of a description to work with, but ask anyway. Find out anything you can about him.

  “While you’re at it, have Grace request a ballistics report on the bullet the man in white so skillfully sent in my direction. He didn’t leave behind any fingerprints, but he did leave that bullet. A shell casing, too, I assume. Let’s hope that will tell us something about who he is. Tell Grace everything I’ve told you, but don’t tell her two things.”

  Griffin looked out the screen door. The morning sun was blasting off the windshields of cars parked on the street.

  Holding up one finger Griffin said, “Don’t tell Grace what the man in white said: This isn’t about money. If we can learn what it is about, we’re a lot closer to recovering that key. That’s for us to find out. If we can.”

  He held up a second finger. “One other thing I don’t want Grace knowing. I saw some of the letters and numbers of the license plate of the car the man in white rode away in. I’m going to trace that plate. That’s doable online, but my computer skills aren’t up to it. I’ll need some help.”

  “Who you thinking of going with, Griffin?” Kit asked.

  “Remember Saif Venkatesan from high school? Shy, smart, orderly, do your homework first thing every afternoon kid. Remember him?” They all did. “Serious computer jock. Absolute genius at the computer keyboard. Several standard deviations of talent better than mine. He’s an assistant professor of statistics at Johns Hopkins University. I’ll see him while you’re in Washington.

  “The license plate’s our starting point for getting to the man in white, who stole the key from us. The man in white is right – this isn’t about money. Not to me anymore it isn’t. We were hired to do a job and we’re going to finish the job.”

  “But, Griffin,” Annie said, “why not tell Grace whatever you know about the license plate? The government could trace it easy enough. Don’t forget, without Grace’s help in December? Those charges against you that were dropped might not have been dropped.”

  “Which kept me out of jail. But since then Grace has been promoted along with her boss. Her plate is not only bigger, it’s a lot fuller. We’ll only ask her for the things we can’t get ourselves. I think Saif can do this. Hope so at least. Any other questions?”

  There were none. Kit said, “Alright! This week I’m leasing a Porsche 911. My ride is seven speed, got self-dimming mirrors. I wanna let it rip out on I-95.”

  Bobby slugged back the last of his coffee. He put his cup down with a nervous chinking sound, and pleaded, “Can’t Annie drive?”

  *

  From outside the office of Professor Saif Venkatesan, Griffin watched his old high school classmate at work. Saif’s fingers were nearly blurry with speed sliding over the computer keyboard. Saif paused to study a graph on his computer monitor. Immediately he shook his head, typed a few seconds. Another graph appeared. This he studied a bit longer, before shaking his head again.

  “Is that for ‘The Inexactitude of Econometric Analysis’”?

  “Yes,” Saif replied, eyes still on the computer screen. Turning in his chair he continued speaking, “Yes, this is for my doctoral-” His dark brown eyes widened in surprise.

  “Griffin Gilmore! Griffin, how have you been?” Saif scrambled out of his chair to shake hands. “Griffin, I haven’t seen you since, since you, since you were, ah..
.” He trailed off.

  “Since I was arrested last December. The feds dropped their prosecution against me for interstate transportation of stolen goods. State charges for burglary and theft were dropped as well. Once I had retrieved what it is they wanted back.”

  Griffin had a quick memory from December, six months earlier. He was standing in falling snow with Grace and her boss, along with Annie, Kit and Bobby. Their assignment was completed. They had recovered and returned what the government needed returned. Griffin had a very clear picture of holding the paper charging him with burglary and theft. After Grace nodded her approval, he ripped the pages into tiny pieces and let the winter wind carry them away.

  “Saif, I’m in business now, which is why I’ve here today.”

  Griffin looked around Saif’s office. Floor to ceiling text books and scholarly articles. The books were arranged alphabetically by author and the journals by publication date. On the wall was a picture of Albert Einstein on a sailboat.

  “I checked you out online before coming here, Saif. Inexactitude is a word I hadn’t heard before, but I think I understand what it means. Who are econometricians?”

  “Charlatans, mostly. Griffin, it’s great to see you again. You were the smartest guy in our high school class.”

  “When I bothered showing up for class.”

  “I’ll never forget.” Saif leaned back in his chair, smiling. “That time senior year when you went to AP Physics class with me. The teacher gave a pop quiz. You got the highest grade, a 99.The teacher took off a point for not showing your work.”

  “I didn’t need to show the work, Saif. I could do it in my head.”

  Saif shook his head with admiration. “And you weren’t even in the class, you just showed up that day.”

  “Annie was home sick that day. I had nothing better to do.”

  Saif glanced at the room crowded with books and journals, a very mixed expression on his face. He told Griffin, “I’m sorry, but I have-”

  “A summer session class in ten minutes, I know. As I said, I checked you out online before coming here. This isn’t just a drive by, Saif. Here’s what I came to ask. You remember our classmates Bobby Lowell, Kit Carson, Annie Knaack?”

  “Sure do. You guys were always so tight. You’re still with Annie?”

  “Still am. The four of us have a kind of business where we help folks retrieve whatever it is they need back. And we do so without anyone knowing it was ever gone. Last night I was working at the Baltimore Museum of Art and a man showed up very unexpectedly.”

  “You’re not telling me everything, are you?”

  “Not just yet. This gentleman left in a car with the item I was paid to retrieve. I managed to see some but not all of the car’s license plate.”

  “How much of the license plate have you got?”

  “Here’s what I saw of the plate: Maryland tags. Something, something, R 187.

  “What can you tell me about the car the plate belongs to? Car make and model. And the owner – date of birth, family, address, prior arrests, whatever public information is readily available. I know some of the websites with publicly available information cost. We’ll reimburse for expenses. Doable?’

  “Doable, sure, with limitless time and resources. Here’s the problem, Griffin. You’ve got two alpha variables here. The two missing letters. That’s way too many potential combinations to search. I mean, the plate could be AAR 187, ABR 187, all the way to AZR 187. Then it’s BAR 187, CAR 187, and so on. I could give you the total number of possible permutations.”

  “Won’t be necessary. Would it help if I narrowed the field?”

  “Immensely,” Saif replied. “Parameterization would be very helpful.”

  Griffin thought back to the car as it pulled away from the curb. “The vehicle’s got to be more than fifteen years old. Could be much older. Huge car, maybe eight cylinders, from way back in the day. Likely American made.”

  “I can do this between classes today. I’ll work through lunch.”

  “Annie and I have a house off Harford Road. Kit, Annie, and Bobby and me’ll meet you there at six.” He handed Saif an index card with the address. “I know you’re busy, with your classes and doctoral defense coming up, but can you make it? I can assure you Annie, Kit and Bobby would love to see you. And we need your help. You still like the pepperoni with extra cheese from the place over on Joppa Road?”

  “I haven’t had one in years, but, yes, I assume so.”

  “There’ll be one waiting for you at our house. If we get paid, we’ll share the money with you. Can’t promise that, though.”

  Saif again looked around the room. The mixed expression returned to his face.

  “Don’t worry about my getting paid,” he told Griffin. “It’s enough to get together with you guys again.”

  “See you at six.”

  *

  Annie waved a pizza slice at Griffin as he came up their sidewalk. She stepped away from Kit, Bobby, and Saif on the porch and waited for Griffin at the top of the steps. Her blonde hair seemed to catch the sunlight. Annie had on sandals, pink tee shirt, golden earrings more than an inch across, cut off jeans and her long, long legs. The earrings shook cheerfully as she waved. She also wore a smile that Griffin – who could read her smiles with satisfying accuracy – meant Saif’s fitting right in.

  Kit was saying, “Remember our history teacher, ninth grade?”

  “Mr. Hackett,” answered Griffin, walking up the steps. Annie passed him her pizza slice. He bit off the bottom third of the slice before passing it back. The pizza tasted of Saturday nights the five of them spent together in high school.

  “You know he had an affair with the French teacher?” This was Annie. “Remember how he’d drive off at lunch and get back to school just as lunch period was ending. She’d show up at the same time, in her car. Like we were all too dumb to figure out what was going on if they just drove separate cars. His shirt would be unbuttoned; hers wasn’t tucked back into her slacks. He and the French teacher used to go out to Loch Raven reservoir at lunch and park.”

  “Remember Phys Ed class freshman year?” Griffin asked. “When we played Shark and Octopus on the football field? One student was selected the Shark-”

  “Usually you,” Bobby reminded him.

  “No doubt because he was the most disruptive,” Annie said, laughing.

  “All the other students were an octopus. The shark – and you’re right, Bobby, it was always me – had to tag someone. Once a student got tagged the student became a shark too. The sharks kept tagging other students who became sharks until only one student had not been tagged. I can remember every time we played Shark and Octopus I felt like I was going to drop I was so tired from running around so much. There were classes I thought I’d never be able to last long enough to get everyone.”

  “But you always did,” Kit told him.

  “I did because the four of you helped me. Not sure why I thought of Shark and Octopus right now,” Griffin said. Annie looked at him, a smile of understanding forming.

  They tore into the last pizza. The stories continued until the pizza boxes were empty. Kit smoked a Cuban cigar.

  “C’mon inside,” Griffin said at last. “We got business.”

  FIVE

  June 5

  7:04 pm

  Griffin placed an 8 by 10 photo on the coffee table in front of Saif, who sat on one end of the living room couch. Bobby sat on the other end, Annie between. On her lap slept a calico cat she had rescued from a snow storm that winter. Griffin had named the cat Dr. Eckleburg, after a character in his favorite novel, The Great Gatsby.

  Kit leaned against a windowsill. There were no chairs in the living room. The couch and coffee table were as far as Annie and Griffin had gotten in their house decorating.

  “This,” Griffin explained to Saif, while pointing at the picture, “is the key we’re trying to retrieve. Eight and a half inches long. Heavier than it looks; exactly fourteen and a half ounces. The ke
y was originally the property of a jailer in Arazzo, Italy, whose name is lost to history. Made 1715, or thereabouts. The unknown jailer was in the employ of Duke Ferlinghetti, whose duchy includes Arazzo.

  “The count’s present descendant hired us. Here is a picture of the current Duke Ferlinghetti. The picture was taken this year at a Parisian restaurant. The blonde sitting with him, I’m pretty sure, isn’t Ursula or Gretchen, who I’ve both met.”

  “I don’t care what her name isn’t,” Kit said, eyeing the picture intently. “She comes to Baltimore? Somebody let me know, wouldja?”

  Griffin resumed. “At the Baltimore Museum of Art right now there is a touring exhibit about life among the Italian nobility in the 18th Century. Part of the exhibit are twelve keys from that time and place. Last night we went to a fundraiser at the BMA.”

  Saif tapped the first picture. “To steal – I mean retrieve – this key?’

  “You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” Griffin said, impressed with Saif’s ability to jump ahead in his thinking. “But no. Strange as it seems, we were hired to take a worthless replica of this key from the exhibit and replace it with the original key.”

  Griffin explained to Saif how Duke Ferlinghetti had felt the need to avenge his family’s honor by replacing the fake key with the real one. His account was quick but thorough. At one point he even lowered his voice a bit, as if inserting a footnote into the text. This was when he mentioned the “This isn’t about money” line.

  “Then, last night – when I’m no more than seconds from a clean getaway with the replica key in my pocket and the real key safely in the display case – a man dressed all in white shows up.

  “Annie, Kit and Bobby spent the day in Washington with a contact we have in the federal government. They’re trying to find out about this guy in white. Who pulled a gun on me, by the way. And took the key from me, after I’d done the hard work of switching keys. He made me switch the keys back. Bobby? Tell me and Saif about your day in Washington.”