St Kilda Consulting 04 - Blue Smoke and Murder

world of blue smoke and positional art.”
    “Interesting context,” she said blandly.
    “It leaves plenty of room for scams. At auctions, gallery owners have been known to front bidders on artists they represent and/or personally collect. Totally illegal, of course, but so are a lot of things that work. Suddenly your Unknown Artist is setting six-figure records. Gallery owner calls his favorite positional-art suckers, churns out a butt-load of blue smoke, and sells the New Best Thing at a 200 or 300 percent markup.”
    “I’m beginning to think my education was wasted.”
    “Education is never wasted.”
    “You sound like you mean that.”
    “I do.” Zach thought of Garland Frost. “And the education you resent the most teaches you the most.” He hesitated, then shrugged. “That’s the kind of education you’re in for now.”
    “You think my paintings are forgeries?”
    “I don’t know what they are, besides really, really good. The point is, until we find out more, you’re going to have to lie like a fine carpet when we meet some gallery owners. At least one of them likely will know a lot more than we do about shredded paintings and death threats.”
    She stiffened, then sighed. “I keep forgetting about that.”
    “I don’t.” Ever.
    “What did you do before St. Kilda Consulting?”
    “Intelligence.”
    Jill waited.
    Zach sipped coffee and watched the sky. “The thing about positional art is that the more money you have looking for status, the higher the prices get in the art world.”
    Okaaay, she thought. He can know all about my past, but his past is closed.
    For now, anyway. Later, though…
    Jill didn’t give up on the things that were important to her. She couldn’t figure out why, but Zach was important.
    “Given the money top art brings,” he said, “no one should be surprised that the art trade attracts criminals. I’ve recovered stolen artworks by pretending to be a crooked museum curator. I’ve negotiated ransoms for kidnapped statues. I’ve passed myself off as the evil madman with a private gallery full of the world’s stolen masterworks.”
    Jill didn’t know whether she was intrigued or appalled. “You’re going to laugh, but you seem so…straightforward…to me.”
    “With you, I am.”
    “I feel better. I think.”
    Zach gave her a sidelong look. He’d like to know how she felt. Literally. In the early morning light she looked tousled and sexy, like she’d just come in from a hot night in someone’s bed. He really wished it was his.
    The distant hum of an airplane’s engines penetrated the cab of the truck.
    He sighed. Back to work.
    Probably just as well. What I want to do with Jill doesn’t come under the heading of good client relationships.
    But I’ve got a feeling it would be really, really good.
    A bright dot in the sky to the north grew quickly into a twin-engine plane. The aircraft flew over the runway, turned, and landed.It shot past the truck, turned smartly, and taxied back toward them.
    “Someone you know?” Jill asked.
    “One way or another.”
    Zach got out, stretched, and unlocked the hard metal top that covered the bed of the black pickup, protecting everything inside. He hadn’t bothered hauling Jill’s big trunk along. He’d wrapped the paintings in tarps—very carefully—and packed the documents and photos in a cardboard carton. Then he’d secured everything to the bed of the truck.
    The plane pulled up on the strip near Zach’s truck and shut down. One of the crew opened a door in the fuselage and let down a set of steps. He began unloading six large aluminum suitcases. Behind him, six slightly larger, hinged wooden boxes with dead-bolt locks waited to further protect the suitcases and their contents.
    Zach talked to another of the crew, handed her the first package of two paintings, and watched. With great care she unwrapped the tarp, matched the paintings inside to the cutouts in one of the foam-lined aluminum cases, closed the case, and slid it into a plywood shipping box. She secured the dead bolt on the box and turned to receive the next package of paintings.
    He nodded and returned to his truck, sure that the paintings were in the hands of people who knew what they were doing.
    “Get out and stretch your legs,” he said to Jill. “You’ll be cooped up in the plane soon enough.”
    “I will?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Where are we going?” she asked.
    “Into the wild blue yonder.”
    Zach pulled his soft canvas duffel