Curse of the Jade Lily (Mac McKenzie #9)

Curse of the Jade Lily (Mac McKenzie #9) Page 55

He paused again and said, “Get the money from the insurance company so that you’ll have it on hand—using the gym bags and dolly like you did at Loring Park is fine with us. Once we call, you will have exactly as much time as it takes to drive from your home to the exchange point plus five minutes. If you’re not there on time, we’ll call the whole thing off—fuck the Lily.”

“Will you be using MapQuest or Google Maps?” I asked.

“We asked for you, McKenzie, because we were told that you could be trusted. We weren’t told that you’re a smart-ass.”

“Who gave you my name?”

“Make sure the money is ready.”

“If you’re going to hold me to a timetable, you had better make sure the roads are plowed before you call.”

He hung up.

I did the same.

“Well, at least he didn’t threaten me,” I said.

The phone rang so quickly after I hung up that I thought maybe the artnappers actually had forgotten to threaten me and were calling back to rectify the situation. Instead, a young man’s voice said, “What the hell happened last night, McKenzie?”

Didn’t I just have this conversation? my inner voice asked.

“Who is this?” I asked.

“Jerry. Jerry Gillard.”

“Oh, Jerry.”

“Don’t be so glad to hear from me,” he said.

“Sorry ’bout that. I thought you were one of the bad guys.”

“I’ve always wanted to be one of the bad guys. I’ve just never had the proper motivation. I blame my sheltered upbringing. So, what’s going on?”

“What have you heard?”

“I spent some time with that Donatucci guy and the people at the museum—what a humorless crowd they are. Anyway, he said that very, very, very bad things happened at some park last night.”

“Very bad things,” I said.

“He said we still don’t have the Lily.”

“Not yet.”

“I’m going to be serious with you for a second, McKenzie. Can I be serious with you?”

I don’t know, can you? I thought but didn’t say.

“Sure,” I told him.

“I want you to walk away. Fuck it, McKenzie. Three people are dead over this piece of crap. It’s a green rock. C’mon. Let the assholes keep it. I’ll take the damn insurance settlement. So what if I don’t get to sleep with Heavenly?”

“Okay, two things, Jerry. First, sleeping with Heavenly could be hazardous to your health. Second, I don’t think you understand how this works. Midwest Farmers Insurance Group does not have a policy with you. It has a policy with the City of Lakes Art Museum. I don’t know the specific language in your lending agreement, but I’m guessing the museum isn’t going to pay you until the insurance company pays them, and the insurance company isn’t going to pay the museum until it’s convinced the Jade Lily is lost forever. If a car is stolen, most insurance companies will settle within thirty days because they figure if the vehicle hasn’t been recovered by then, it never will be. The Jade Lily isn’t a Buick that might end up in a chop shop, though. Nor is it a diamond ring or emerald necklace that can be recut and cast into a new setting. It retains its value only as long as it remains intact. The artnappers are not going to damage it. That makes it recoverable. I promise you, both the insurance company and the museum will drag their feet on your claim for a long time while trying to get it back. Hell, Jer, there are organizations out there like the Art Loss Register that exist solely for the purpose of recovering stolen art and antiques. This is big business, man. If we don’t recover the Lily from the artnappers, it’ll be a year before you get your money, if not longer. In any case, you don’t get to decide whether we continue or not. Midwest Farmers is the one that writes the check. They get to decide.”

Gillard thought about it for a moment, and then he said, “Do you really think sleeping with Heavenly would be dangerous?”

“Jerry…”

“I hear you, I hear you, McKenzie. I just don’t want anyone else hurt over this.”

“I appreciate that, Jer.”

“Okay, okay. I’m going back to my Jacuzzi. I have a Jacuzzi in my hotel suite.”

“Good for you.”

“I was going out, but this snow—it reminds me of the lake-effect snow we get blowing off Lake Michigan.”

“I’m glad you’re feeling at home.”

“Screw that. I hate Chicago in the winter. Chicago is the best summer city in America. In the winter, no way.”

“People say the same thing about the Twin Cities.”

“Why do we live in these places, I wonder.”

“Just don’t know any better, I guess.”

Gillard promised that when all this was over he and I were going out and getting smashed—but in a good way. After he hung up, I called Mr. Donatucci. He did not like the idea of stashing $1,270,000 in my house and refused to allow it unless the money was protected by at least two security guards at all times. I gave him an argument, yet he refused to budge. Eventually I gave in. Donatucci said he would bring the money around tomorrow afternoon after the snow stopped and the streets were cleared. He was taking no chances, he said. I told him he was correct, I was the one taking all the chances. He didn’t seem to mind that at all.