When Kosovsky talked, he had a condescending smile on his face. “It is terrible, what happened to you.”

“Not as bad as what happened to Angeline Moreau or John Latham,” Decker said.

Mayor Brettly’s eyes beseeched Radar, who pretended not to see.

Mulrooney said, “You just can’t call off this many people on two brutal murder cases without some explanation. I got my own men to consider.”

“It is terrible,” Kosovsky said again. “These brutal murders.”

A slight smile on his face? Maybe Rina was imagining it. While Rina was pretty certain that Kosovsky wasn’t the hit man, he seemed like the perfect candidate to order a massacre. Something cold and evil in his eyes. She said, “They were terrible murders.”

Kosovsky said, “Yes, of course. But I can assure you that there wasn’t any official government inwolwement in them.”

Decker said, “It warms my heart that the United States and Russia weren’t behind trying to assassinate my wife and me, but that begs the question of what happened.”

Kosovsky sipped his tea. “Rogue agents are big problems, Meester Decker. Just ask your friends from your CIA.”

“Who’s the rogue agent?”

“Names are irrelewant. But the rogue has been dealt with, saving your gowernment a lengthy trial and many tax dollars. So for you, it is done. There is no one to hunt down because we have already done it.”

“How do I explain that to Angeline’s parents?”

“You tell them it is done,” Kosovsky said. “It is a big shame about the young girl, but when you play with fire, you get the burn. To tell them about their daughter, they will find out about her inwolwement in unpleasant business. Perhaps it would be better to tell them what they want to hear rather than the truth.”

No one spoke.

Kosovsky said, “Assure the girl’s parents that her killer has been punished.”

“Without prejudice,” Decker said.

“Excuse me?”

“Just an old army term. While I’m assuring Angeline Moreau’s parents that the rogue has been taken care of, what do I say to Detective McAdams who was shot three times.”

Kosovsky turned to McAdams. “My sincere apologies, Meester McAdams. If you are ewer in Moscow, I would be honored to host you . . . show you around my city.”

“Thank you.” McAdams raised an eyebrow.

“I think we’re done here,” said Agent Blond.

“Not by a long shot,” Decker said. The room went quiet for a moment. “Let me take you on a theoretical walk and you can tell me how theoretical the walk actually is.”

Silence.

“Go on,” Kosovsky said.

“We know that the codebook was found in John Latham’s apartment hidden in an out of the way place, but recovered brilliantly by my colleague, Detective Mulrooney. We also know that someone was desperately looking for it—in Latham’s apartment and in Angeline’s apartment because both places were tossed. I believe that Viktor Gerrard—who is missing—is our key player. He was born in East Germany and spoke Russian as well as German. He was also an art dealer working in a gallery that specialized in Russian art. I suspect that Viktor had a bad case of sticky fingers.”

“I don’t understand sticky fingers,” Kosovsky said.

“He was a thief.”

“Ah . . . go on.”

Decker said, “Maybe Gerrard was the rogue agent you’re referring to. Or maybe he’s just a rogue, period. Whoever he really was, Gerrard had contacts in Russia, including you, Mr. Kosovsky. Could be he was trying to buy something from you. More likely, he was trying to sell you something. Because like Latham, Gerrard probably had a side business in stolen goods. I believe he accidentally came across the codebook in a client’s house in Russia and he knew he had found something big. So he decided to take it back to America. How am I doing so far?”

“I hold judgment,” the Russian said.

“Always a good thing to be open-minded,” Oliver said.

Decker held back a smile. “The problem was that Gerrard couldn’t break the code. So he enlisted help. Enter John Latham who was clever enough to figure out enough of the code and realize what he was dealing with. But instead of cluing Viktor in on what he had, he embarked upon his own blackmail scheme against you, Mr. Kosovsky.” Decker turned to Beckwith. “And possibly against you.”

“Me?” Beckwith’s cheeks had pinkened. “What do I have to do with any of this?”

“Obviously something because you’re here,” Rina said.

Smiling, Decker wagged a finger at her. “I have no idea what’s in the codebook other than meaningless foreign words that transliterated into cliché Latin phrases. But . . . I suspect it was all about art negotiations between the U.S. and Russia. For the last six years, Mr. Beckwith has been trying to curate the foremost traveling exhibit of art by Leonardo Da Vinci. Because Da Vincis are so few and far between and so rare and priceless, they never travel. What’s the payoff for you, Mr. Beckwith, if you succeed in this coup? You not only get a pat on the back, you probably get a percentage of the exhibit ticket price, which, if you could pull it off, could amount to a fortune. But there was a chink along the way. No one is lending the United States valuable art, especially Russia, because the Russian government is involved in a messy lawsuit with Chabad where the U.S. judge has already sided with the Jewish organization. So you, Mr. Beckwith, were stuck, unless you had something remarkable to give Russia in return for the loan of a Da Vinci. How am I doing so far, Mr. Beckwith?”

Silence. Then Beckwith said, “For the record, we refer to the paintings as Leonardos.”

“I stand corrected.”

Kosovsky said, “And what does that haff to do with me, I wonder?”

“You, Mr. Kosovsky, were negotiating with the Hermitage to get one of their two Da Vin—excuse me—Leonardos. What are the titles, Tyler?”

McAdams had them in his notes. “Madonna Litta and Madonna Benois.”

“Thank you,” Decker said. “But you knew, Mr. Kosovsky, that the Hermitage would never, ever release such masterpieces unless the government got a truly one-of-a-kind in return.”

“Which would be?”

“I’ll get to that,” Decker said. “The point is you had negotiating powers, but Latham was getting in the way. So someone told Viktor Gerrard to solve the problem. I can’t swear to it but I suspect that someone in this room knew that Latham and Gerrard were in cahoots. What I suspect is that Gerrard was scared enough of you, Mr. Kosovsky, to solve any problem you might have. Angeline was a by-product because she had gotten too close to John Latham and no one knew exactly how much Latham told her.”

“Your theories are very interesting, I must admit,” Kosovsky said. “But alas . . .” He threw up his hands. “They are just theories.”

“You’re right,” Decker said. “But given enough time, I know I could substantiate them. Not that it would matter to you, Mr. Kosovsky, but it might matter to those of us here who reside in America.”

The lieutenant governor finally piped up. “Detective Decker, the perpetrator of these horrible murders is not in the country. And as Mr. Kosovsky has pointed out, he has been dealt with. It’s not in anyone’s interest to continue on.”

“You mean it’s not in the interest of New York to continue because the first museum to get a Leonardo exhibit would be the Met. And that would be quite a coup for you, wouldn’t it?”

“Decker, what’s the point?” Radar said. “It’s over. You’re not going to get anyone’s cooperation. So unless you want to go rogue, just put a fork in it.”

“He’s not going rogue,” Rina said.

“Ah, the little lady seems to have a grasp on the situation,” Kosovsky said.

Decker started to boil, but Rina held him back with the palm of her hand. “I can’t control what my husband might do. What woman can? But maybe if you do me a favor, Mr. Kosovsky, I’m betting that Detective Decker might think twice before going to the press.”