The phone rang again.
Mr. Roboto: "Perhaps… you didn't… understand Mr. Picker. You give… us the painting… or your girlfriend… dies."
"Fuck you." I hung up.
Nathan and TJ were staring at me. "They've kidnapped Kelly."
Their eyes got even wider. TJ's voice was more than anxious. "Pick, what are you, out of your fucking mind. You hung up on those dudes. Man, what are you thinking?"
Nathan is a little more composed. "What's going through your mind?"
"Simple. These guys are going to kill us anyway. The strategic thing here is to throw them off balance. As long as we have the painting we're safe. That includes Kelly. They'll call back."
I walked outside and downhill towards my place. Uncle Moe falls into step with me. I look over and tell him, "I want you to go and protect Kelly."
"Son, your Mamai asked me to watch over you. Your dear departed father asked me to look over Connor. I'm afraid, laddie, that is the extent of my charge. You well know by now that there be limits on what I can do."
I'm beside myself. For the first time since this whole affair began I can feel myself losing it. The thought of Kelly getting hurt, or worse, has me at my wit’s end. I have never, ever talked back to my Uncle, let alone lose my temper with him. This was the first time. "Uncle Moe," I'm practically screaming, "my mother gave you to me, so to speak. I am giving you to Kelly. I know that there are limits to your abilities, but I want you to do everything possible to protect that girl. Now! Do I make myself clear?"
That big bear head sinks into his chest. He stops walking and closes his eyes. Ten, fifteen and then thirty seconds pass. Finally, he places his paw on my shoulder and looks directly at me. I shouldn't be able to feel that, should I? "Aye, son." And just like that Uncle Moe is gone.
I reach into the back of the Morgan and retrieve the painting. Walk back up to the main house and pass it to Nate.
"This is the prototype for Vermeer's 'Mother and Child'. It's good, good enough to pass an initial inspection. Not good enough for intense scrutiny. It will do just fine for what we need. You'll take care of the details."
"No problem. It will be ready in a few hours. I’ll call you as soon as it’s done."
The phone rings again. 'Private Number'. "Mr. Picker… You will…"
"Put her on the phone."
Maybe twenty or thirty seconds pass. "Picker, I'm okay. I haven't been hurt, darling. I've been doing some thinking…"
Mechanical voice grabbed the phone.
"As I was saying… You will meet us… at a location… which we designate…No cops…
"Look, I don't give a shit about the painting. But, I will tell you this, harm one hair on that girl's head and I will personally put a bullet in your brain Mr. Gambelli."
A very long pause. No robot voice this time: "I will call you with instructions first thing in the morning Mr. Picker. Good-day."
"Do you think that was a good idea, you know, using his name like that?" Nathan giving the queer eye.
"Like I said, I want to keep them off balance."
"Hope you know what you're doin' boss." TJ's not looking too comfortable.
I find a recent number added to my phone and press dial. "Simmons speaking."
"Bob, I think the time has come to ask for your help." I filled the Interpol agent in on what had just transpired and told him about what I had in mind.
"Sounds risky Picker. To be perfectly honest, I can't come up with anything better."
"Stay to close to your phone. We'll meet up tomorrow before my meeting with Gambelli and Morelli."