Chapter Three

I studied the surprisingly thin file until the very last rays of sunlight had stealthily departed my office. I found nature’s energy to be much cheaper, so I relied on it to the final moment. With the imminent darkness leaving no alternative, I reached across the small kitchen table that doubles as my desk to a reading lamp that glows with as much illumination as I can afford. Turning it on, I found my place and purposefully resumed.

The file consisted of a reasonably detailed profile of a suspected art smuggler, Tarren Kiranse. Kiranse was a tall and impressively built man in his late forties. He was recently widowed, but the file image indicated few signs of his age or excessive strain. Exceedingly wealthy, only the most well connected socialites ran in his circle. Kiranse owned Oriental Curios and Designs, specializing in Asian imports.

It appeared there was negligible evidence linking Kiranse to any smuggling excepting the claims of a rival, Q’uan Zhi Art. QZA, based in Beijing, believed him to be the architect behind the loss of several valuable pieces. Nearly two years ago they first employed the services of DIS, but it seemed little headway had been made. I couldn’t help but wonder why QZA was still pursuing the matter, and even more so, why Ridgeback would waste his time and money putting me on the case. This seemed like a lost cause, but as long as there was a possibility, albeit slim, of resolving the issue, I had to try.

Other than a couple of addresses and a photo of Kiranse and his late wife, the profile offered no more assistance. There was one scrap of wrinkled, yellow paper taped to the back of the file listing DIS objectives. Surveillance of Kiranse topped the list, as well as obtaining verification of the QZA claims. Almost as an afterthought, the phrase “Who else knows?” was scrawled beneath.

Essentially, I was beginning with almost no information and three vague objectives. As I sat back in the firm, wooden chair, I considered my first move. After a few minutes of stillness, I realized how rusty my skills had become. I glanced once more at the fragment of yellow paper and figured it was as good of a starting place as any.

In the soft light of the small lamp I crossed the kitchen and retrieved a dusty camera case from the uppermost shelf of the closet. Carefully removing the camera, I retraced my steps, switched off the light, and headed out the door.