Chapter 8: Brian’s hands were shaking as he lent his forehead against the door; welcoming the coolness of the metal against his brow. He took a deep breath, desperately trying to ignore the pain in his heart. How could he be so stupid to think Justin would ever really care for him? And the thought of this second betrayal cut him deeply; first Cynthia and then Justin. Well, fuck ‘em both. He didn’t need them: either of them. But, deep down, he knew the blond was right. He was surely so close to being caught he would have to be very careful from now on. Maybe now was the time to quit, but there was still so much to do. One more job, a big one: that’s what was needed. And then he would leave. Leave Pittsburgh and maybe even leave the country. Find somewhere with no extradition treaty and disappear. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The expression on Brian’s face as he closed the door tore at Justin. The look of utter betrayal was evident in his eyes; eyes normally hazel, but now dark and filled with pain. And Justin put his hand against the metal door, willing that it would open again so that he could face the man; try and convince him that he would do him no harm; that he loved him. Forcing down the sobs that threatened to surface, Justin turned and slowly descended the stairs. Once inside his car, he reached for his cell phone and dialled the number Brian had given him. “Hello”. “Cynthia ... It’s Justin Taylor”. “Justin ... is everything alright? I’ve been trying to contact Brian, but he’s not answering”. “He knows. I’m really scared for him ... but he won’t let me help him. I just wanted you to know that I’m going back to New York. I’ll file my report ... but I’ll say I couldn’t find out anything new. That’s the best I can do ... he’s on his own”. Cynthia could hear the emotion in his voice and realized how hurt Justin felt at having to abandon Brian. “Thanks Justin”, she answered him. “I’m so sorry things didn’t work out between the two of you ... I think you’d have been good for him”. Justin smiled. “Yeah ... I think that too. Goodbye”. “Goodbye, Justin” and they both hung up. Hardly now able to suppress the tears welling up, Justin started the engine and headed back to his hotel. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ By the time he arrived back at his room, Justin could no longer hold in how he felt. If only Brian had listened to him, they could have found a way out together. But now all Brian would recall was how he’d been deceived and tricked into divulging not only his illegal activities, but also his deepest feelings; feelings that Justin could be trusted with, if only he’d been allowed. Hearing movement in the room next door, Daphne went to investigate. She’d been worried sick all night that something had happened to her friend and employer, but trusted him to contact her if he’d needed her. She found him, hurriedly packing his bag, pulling out the few clothes he’d placed in the drawers of the dresser and collecting his things from the bathroom. “Justin ... are you okay?” “Get packed Daphne … we’re going home”. “Why … what’s happened?” but he didn’t answer her. “Justin …” Quickly, Daphne caught him by the elbow as he walked by and turned him to face her. The puzzled look on her face gave way to feelings of concern as she saw the depths of his despair. “Oh Justin …” and he fell into her arms and sobbed on her shoulder. “I love him, Daph …” he whispered in her ear. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The knocking on the door gave way to pounding that eventually brought Brian back to reality. After Justin had left, he’d retreated to the shower, allowing the water to wash over him for several minutes; taking comfort in its heat seeping into his pores before drying himself off and getting dressed. Sitting on the sofa, he’d been lost in thought; gradually becoming aware of the pounding on the door and then a familiar voice. “Brian ... please ... open up … we have to talk .... I need to know you’re okay”. Closing his eyes for a few moments, Brian sighed and then got up and went over to the door and slid it open. Without a word, he turned back and retreated to the sofa. “Brian ... are you okay?” Cynthia asked him, closing the door behind her. Ignoring her question, Brian asked one of his own. “Did you know who he was?” Nodding, Cynthia sat in the chair. “Yes ... Justin told me,” and Brian visibly flinched at the mention of his name. She continued. “He called me. He said he was going back to New York and that he’d report that he found out nothing new. But you’re going to have to stop Brian, and ...” She hesitated before continuing. “If you turned yourself in .... “ Brian shook his head. “No … besides ... I may not be able to keep you out of it”. A heavy silence hung in the room before Cynthia spoke again. “Justin cares for you Brian … he really does. Why won’t you let him help you?” Brian brought his bare feet up onto the sofa and his knees up into his chest: hugging them. “Do you have feelings for him?” she asked him. Brian closed his eyes and didn’t need to answer, but the words that came out of his mouth contradicted everything Cynthia read in his face. “He means nothing,” said Brian, trying so hard to believe his own words; willing it were true. “I don’t believe you”. “Believe what you like. I’ve already screwed up once. There’s no point in thinking they’ll ever be anyone else”. “You can’t keep blaming yourself about Paul .... he knew you loved him…” but Brian shook his head. “Brian look at me” and slowly Brian turned to face her. “Paul did know you loved him ... how could he not? Not a lot of kids your age would have stuck by him when he got sick and what about all the times he practically ignored you when he was so engrossed in his work. He could be pretty selfish like that, remember”. Brian couldn’t believe his ears. “What are you talking about? It was his art … it’s what he lived for”. Finally, Cynthia got to say all the things she’d wanted to all these years. Yes, she’d loved her brother dearly, but she also saw his faults. Brian refused to acknowledge them, only seeing the man that saved him from a possible life on the streets: the man who paid for his education and took care of him. “Exactly, he chose his art over everything ... over me and over you. If he’d had the operation right away like the doctors wanted, he would still be alive today”. “Okay, he’d be blind and couldn’t paint ... but he’d be alive. He could still have done something worthwhile with his life ... but he chose not to. He chose to leave us to leave you”. The shock on Brian’s face at Cynthia’s words didn’t deter her. Brian had to see Paul for what he was. Not some saint who’d come to his rescue, but a man; a man with all his faults and defects. “He loved me ... and I loved him. I know I couldn’t tell him until it was too late ... but I did ... I still do …” and Brian’s voice trailed off. Cynthia’s words rang true, even though he’d refused to admit it to himself how he’d felt so hurt at the time. The fact that Paul had made the decision that his life wasn’t worth living if he couldn’t paint. What about him: Brian. Hadn’t he been worth living for? Cynthia got to her feet and went over to him and sat down next to him. Brian had to acknowledge the truth, however much it hurt. “You can’t cling to the past Brian. This love for Paul you say you still have. Does it keep you warm at night? Does it make you feel whole … complete? Or does it leave you cold and empty?” Brian couldn’t look at her and hearing her words was so painful. “You have to get over him, Brian. Paul was my brother and I loved him dearly ... but he’s gone and I’ve moved on ... I’m marrying Richard” and she sighed deeply. She hadn’t wanted to hurt him, but he had to see the truth. “Justin’s only a phone call away ...” “I don’t have his number ...” “Well, I don’t suppose he’d be too hard to find … if you wanted to. He does care for you”, she said, laying her hand on his arm. “Look ... I’ll be moving out of the house soon ... I suggest you do the same”. She put her arm around Brian’s shoulders and lent in to give him a kiss on the cheek. “No matter what ...l always be here for you” Cynthia told him before leaving. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Five days later: ------------------ “What the fuck do you call this?” Dan Marshall was in a particularly foul mood and the report he held in his hand wasn’t helping matters one bit. “It’s as I put in there ... I couldn’t find out anything new on Kinney ... so it’s all still pretty circumstantial”. Justin was squirming in his seat. Dan had summoned him to his office to explain why there was no new evidence to show from his trip to Pittsburgh. “Are you sure you gave it enough time ... you don’t seem to have been gone very long?” Dan was puzzled as to why Justin had pulled the plug on the investigation so soon. He was usually so painstaking in gathering the information needed to recover a stolen work of art and identifying the thieves, sometimes taking weeks if not months in his inquiries. Justin just shrugged. “I played it as I saw it”, was all he could say. Dan sighed and tossed the report on to his desk. “Okay, Justin ... I’ve known you too long to doubt your word ... but there’s something still not right about this … I can feel it and I’m not throwing in the towel yet ... we’ll just put it on the back burner for now. Let me know what we owe you and I’ll speak to you again soon”. Standing up, both men shook hands and Justin couldn’t get out of there fast enough. He hated lying to Dan, but he just couldn’t betray Brian. Maybe further evidence would be found, but at least he wouldn’t be playing a part in it. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Brian had been living back at the loft now for the best part of a week. He’d been back to the house a couple of times to collect some clothes and belongings: running in to Alfred when he did so. The elderly man had realized that something had happened between Brian and Cynthia, but knew them too well to interfere. He’d been thinking about retiring now for some while. His niece in Connecticut had always said she wanted him to go and live with her and her family when the time came and now, with Cynthia marrying soon and moving out of the house and Brian having retreated to the loft, that time had arrived. “I’ll miss you, Freddy”. Brian had genuinely liked the man who’d done his utmost to make him feel as if he belonged there and had regarded him more as an Uncle and friend than as a man who merely worked for the family and the two men hugged as Brian was preparing to leave the house. “I’ll miss you too, Brian,” answered Freddy, the man’s eyes misting up at their goodbye. “And you and Cynthia have been more than generous to me ... “ Brian shook his head, “It’s no more than you deserve ... the way you’ve stuck by this family ... and me” he answered and he and Freddy shook hands before Brian picked up the bags he’d placed by the door and left. Freddy would remain in the house until Cynthia left for good. Brian had decided the time had come to sell the property and he would share the proceeds with her: that was only fair. She and Brian had spoken a few times on the phone since they’d last seen each other, determined that their conversation at the loft would not cause a rift between them and Brian had promised her faithfully he would be at her wedding. After all, this was family; the only family he considered that he had. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Over the next few weeks, settling back into the loft and making it his home once more had a strange feeling of deja vu about it and he half expected Paul to be there whenever he came back. Brian tried pushing all thoughts of Justin out of his mind, but without too much success; the thought of what might have been haunting him: thoughts that no number of tricks could quell and there’d been a few coming through the door since he’d returned there, all leaving him feeling even emptier than he had before. And there was one thing left for him to do: the big one. The last robbery, one so audacious and daring, that would provide enough money to settle his debt once and for all, allowing him to meet the commitments that he’d taken on so far and that would be it; no more. And one particular item of news had caught his eye. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ A month later, Brian had attended Cynthia’s wedding, even agreeing to give her away at the ceremony. Later, as she was preparing to leave for the honeymoon, Brian took her aside. “You looked wonderful today”, he told her and he kissed her on the cheek; she smiled at him. “Thanks Brian ... but what about you. How are you doing ... really?” “Okay … but there’s something I wanted to say” and he took a deep breath. “You’ve been family to me and you’ve put up with some pretty weird stuff ... some of it quite dangerous and I want you to know that I really appreciate it”. “I ... I’m going away soon ... so I’d be grateful if you could handle the sale of the house … is that okay? Can you make sure my share goes into the special account? I’ve left all the necessary instructions with them ...” Cynthia looked at him, trying to read what he was really telling her. “Where are you going ... are you going to be away long?” Brian shrugged, he didn’t want to lie to her, but the less she knew the better. “You’re not coming back ... are you?” she asked him quietly. “I don’t know”, he admitted. “One day maybe … who knows?” “Brian … you’re not going to do anything stupid ... are you?” but all he could do was give her a big hug before turning and walking away. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Returning from her honeymoon, the first thing Cynthia did was to go round to the loft, but Brian wasn’t there and he wasn’t answering his cell phone. There was an article in the paper she’d picked up in the airport when they’d arrived back in the country: one that worried her. ~ O ~ The Guardian, New York: The world's most expensive piece of art ... a $104m Picasso painting. Boy with a Pipe, by Pablo Picasso, painted when the artist was 24. The eagerly awaited exhibition of Pablo Picasso's masterpiece, painted in 1905 when he was just 24 years old, will be on public view this week for the first time in many years. The painting, Garcon a la Pipe (Boy with a Pipe) became the most expensive piece of art sold when it went under the hammer in New York earlier this year for $104m. The Picasso work is of a young Parisian boy, dressed in blue, holding a pipe and wearing a garland of roses. The 39-in by 32-in canvas is widely regarded as one of the most stunning depictions of adolescent beauty. ~ O ~ Brian’s words had come back to her: “What’s really needed is just one big job ... my swan song ... have enough money to invest so that there’s sufficient coming in …. set up some sort of trust maybe”. Had Brian been waiting for an opportunity like this to come along? Could something like this be what he had in mind before he planned to disappear? It would be totally insane, but had the potential to provide the kind of money he’d talked about. One quick inquiry and she had the number she needed. “Taylor Investigations”. “Is Justin Taylor there please?” “Who shall I say is calling? “This is Cynthia Delaney … but he knows me as Cynthia Sheridan”. Taken by surprise, it took Daphne a few seconds to think what she was doing before she put the call on hold and moved towards Justin’s office. The door was open and she stepped inside. “Justin ... there’s a Cynthia Delaney ... Cynthia Sheridan that was on the phone ... she’s asking to talk to you”. Justin put down the paper he was reading as he stole a few minutes and a quick cup of coffee. “What? You better put her through Daph”. Picking up the phone before it barely had time to ring, Justin got up from behind his desk and reached over to close the office door. “Cynthia … this is Justin. Has something happened ... is Brian okay?” “I don’t know Justin, but there’s an article in the paper I’ve just seen that worries me and a couple of weeks ago at my wedding, Brian said he would be going away and maybe not coming back”. “What article are you talking about?” Justin could hear the concern in Cynthia’s voice as she continued to speak. “It was in the New York Guardian …. I picked it up at the airport last night”. Justin fished in the trash can. He bought several of the New York papers each day to keep up with what was going on and brought out yesterdays edition and spread it out on his desk. “It’s the one about an art exhibition ... a valuable Picasso is going on show. Justin, it’s worth millions and I’m scared that Brian is going to do something stupid”. Justin vaguely remembered the article from the day before and now he found it again. He gave out a low whistle as he saw the headline: $104 million. “Christ, Cynthia ... do you really think he’d go after this? It would be totally insane”. “I know,” she answered him. “But he did talk about one last big robbery … something that would provide enough money once and for all. I have a really bad feeling about this Justin”. “I’m not sure I can do anything, Cynthia ... but leave it with me .... I’ll get back to you”. Hanging up, Justin took a swallow of his cold coffee, grimacing at the bitter taste. Getting to his feet, he walked to the window and stood watching the people and the traffic in the busy street below. There was a knock on the door and Daphne walked in. “Are you okay, Justin?” she asked him, but he just nodded, not saying a word. Ten minutes later, he put on his jacket, telling Daphne he’d be back later. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ He’d made a point of heading straight for Sarah, Dan’s secretary and starting up a conversation with her, waiting for his opportunity to speak to Dan, as if just in passing. “Hello Justin ... did we arrange to meet?” Dan asked him, returning to his office from a meeting elsewhere in the building. “No”, answered Justin. “But I remembered I never did put in my expenses from Pittsburgh ... I’ve left it with Sarah”. “Okay”, answered the man, making his way into his own office. “By the way”, Justin called after him. “Anything new on the Kinney investigation?” he asked, following him. “Yeah, funny you should ask. We just got word he flew into New York last night ... I decided that at least we’d keep a check if he traveled anywhere. Have you seen this?” he asked, pulling out a copy of yesterday’s newspaper. “Wouldn’t put it passed him to have a go at this, so we’ve arranged for additional security to keep a close eye on it. It’s a very short exhibition owing to the value of the painting ... so if he does intend to go after it, he’ll have to make his move fast. If he does … we’ll be waiting for him.” Saying goodbye, Justin returned to his office. In the weeks since he’d last seen Brian, he’d desperately tried to ignore how he’d felt for the man, but the phone call from Cynthia had re-awakened his feelings and he knew he couldn’t ignore them. He had to do something. He had to get to Brian before he tried to steal the painting. Against armed security guards waiting for him, Brian wouldn’t stand a chance. To be continued.