“Your friend decided not to come?” Juan asked with a wink at Max.
Beth gave them an embarrassed grin. “Ever since our experience in Thailand, she’s been leery of bars. I told her you guys were beyond reproach, but she thought it was better to get here early and scope out the situation.”
“Oh, I know,” Juan said, and turned to look at a woman sitting with a sailor at the end of the bar. She wore her hair pulled up underneath a USS Nimitz baseball cap and was nodding along to the band’s music as she flirted with him. “You can ask her to come over now.”
Beth gaped at him, then nodded at Raven to join them. The disappointed sailor tried to talk her out of leaving, but her flirtatiousness was suddenly gone and she was all business, gently but firmly telling him the fun was over.
“How did you know?” Beth asked as Raven walked toward them.
“Like you, we do our research.”
Raven sat down and shook their hands with a strong grip. “Raven Malloy.”
“I’m Juan Cabrillo, and this hale and hearty fellow is Max Hanley.”
“Dig in, if you’re hungry,” Max said, pointing at the plate of nachos that was three-quarters gone. They declined but ordered beers from the waitress.
“You were very good,” Juan said to Raven. “I almost overlooked you because I thought you were with that guy.”
“So did he.” She lifted her hat and her long black hair spilled out. “Then you’ve seen my photo?”
Juan nodded. “You have impressive credentials. Top ten percent in your class at West Point where you double-majored in psychology and Middle Eastern studies. Fluent in Farsi and Arabic. Earned a Bronze Star and a Purple Heart in Afghanistan as a military investigator before leaving the Army with an honorable discharge as captain. No wonder Beth trusts you as her bodyguard.”
Raven’s expression didn’t change during the recitation of her accomplishments. “Are you trying to see how I’ll react or are you just showing off?”
Juan smiled. “Maybe a little bit of both.”
“Then let me return the favor. Information about you was tougher to get hold of, but I have my own resources. Full name Juan Rodríguez Cabrillo. Grew up in Orange County, California, where you spent a good amount of your time surfing. Double-majored in political science and mechanical engineering at Caltech. Fluent in Arabic, Spanish, and Russian. Recruited out of your college ROTC program to become a foreign operative with the CIA, though I could find no record of postings or missions. Left to form the Corporation, which provides a variety of services ranging from protective details for Emirate sheiks to rescues of kidnapped corporate executives and everything in between. Spent six weeks in the hospital after losing a leg in some unknown op. For what it’s worth, you conceal it well. I couldn’t detect a limp when you walked in.”
“It’s amazing what they can do with bionic limbs these days.” Although there were many gaps in Raven’s information, it was all accurate. “I’m impressed. That information’s hard to come by. You must have some good connections.”
Raven shrugged like it was no big deal. “When you’re on the run from murderous drug dealers, it’s good to know who you’re meeting with.”
“And since you’re here, I’m guessing we passed the test. So why don’t you tell us how we can help.”
Beth told them the whole story, from being hired to authenticate the painting to the gunfight at the Bangkok nightclub.
“Where’s the Manet now?” Juan asked.
“In a safe-deposit box in a Bangkok bank,” Beth replied. “I’ve given instructions to my attorney to turn the contents over to the Gardner Museum if I die or go missing for more than a month.”
“We didn’t trust handing it over to Interpol,” Raven said. “Not after Tagaan said they had someone on the inside.”
“And trying to smuggle it out of the country would’ve been risky.”
“So you want us to help you find the rest of the paintings?” Max said. “Since I’m head of the Corporation’s finances, I have to ask. What’s the reward?”
“Five million dollars, split fifty-fifty between you and us.”
“A tidy sum,” Juan said.
“All together, the paintings are worth a hundred times that. Not to mention their value to the art world in general. The Vermeer is one of only thirty-four known works of his, and The Storm on the Sea of Galilee by Rembrandt is a masterpiece of the Dutch Golden Age. They truly are priceless.”
r /> Beth had never been aboard the Oregon, but Juan had gotten to know her during their many consultations on artwork purchases. He knew full well that the money was only part of what drove her and saw in her a passion for recovering stolen art that mirrored his own dedication to his work. She really cared about the artwork itself and would be heartbroken if the paintings remained lost to the world.
“I hope the tracker we gave you worked as intended,” Juan said.
“Yes, thanks to you we actually have something to go on.” She pulled an electronic tablet from her purse and pulled up a map of Southeast Asia. Three red dots were highlighted: one in Bangkok, one in Manila, and a third farther up the island of Luzon in the Philippines.