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It’s not even a centre for the art world. So what was Victor up to? Was he playing a trick? Pulling a fast one?
    Victor called me in my hotel that night. “I have appointed myself social director, camp counsellor, and your chief guide. Let us meet for breakfast, at my hotel, at nine.”
    Victor was all smiles the next morning. He had found a store that sold the Toronto papers. “We don’t even rate a line,” he said.
    “It’s too early,” said Zena. Without asking permission, I’d given her a kiss as I’d sat down.
    “Perhaps,” Victor replied. “But the robbery may not have been reported to the police.” He smiled. “The police will want to catch us and serve the interests of justice. But the insurance company won’t be so moral. They may have told Green to keep quiet, knowing that they might be able to buy the paintings back from us. We may have some breathing room.”
    “Don’t count on it,” I said.
    “Oh, I don’t. That’s what I want to talk about, in fact. How are we going to get away with this? Each of us must make separate plans, but even apart we are still linked. If one of us is caught, surely we all will be.”
    Victor reached inside his old grey suit and brought out two envelopes, placing one in front of me, the other in front of Zena. “Of course, I will tell the insurance company to give us our money in old bills. But the bills will certainly be marked. In the envelopes in front of you, you’ll find $10,000. Surely that will meet your immediate needs. For a time you won’t have to touch the insurance money at all.”
    It was Zena who smiled. “You are so thoughtful, Victor. This will give you more breathing room, all right. By the time Paul and I begin spending the marked money, you will be far, far away.”
    “Africa,” Victor said. “South America. China. There’s so much of the world I still haven’t seen.”
    Late the next afternoon, we met again. Victor had rented a car. He drove us out to the storage lockers where the movers would deliver Zena’s stuff—including the paintings. She picked up her locker key at the desk.
    “I think I should take the paintings when they get here,” Victor said.
    It made sense. In working out the deal with the insurance company, he’d need to be able to get the paintings quickly.
    “Okay, Victor,” I said, “but don’t get any fancy ideas.”
    He dropped me at my hotel. Since he had a car, I decided to rent one as well. After all, we were in Los Angeles, home of the freeway. A taxi took me to the nearest Hertz office and I rented a Ford. Twenty minutes later, as I pulled out of the lot, I glanced into my rear-viewmirror. There was Zena, climbing into a rented car herself!
    I pulled over to the curb and waited. As she came out of the Hertz lot, I trailed her. She followed the signs and drove straight to the airport. She parked, I parked. She went in, I followed. She went up to a ticket counter, I stayed back, so she wouldn’t see me. She paid cash, I suppose with some of Victor’s money. When she left, I went up to the counter.
    “I was thinking of a trip,” I said.
    The woman laughed. “Sounds like a good idea to me. Where to?”
    I threw a glance toward Zena as she walked away. “Maybe where that gorgeous girl’s going.”
    “Lisbon? Portugal?” The woman laughed again. “Won’t do you any good. She bought two tickets, so she must be going with somebody else.”
    Lisbon. Well, that’s where she was from. I’d been suspicious so long I was almost surprised that Zena had told the truth. And I was upset. I didn’t want to lose her. Turning away from the counter, I ran after her but by the time I reached the parking lot, her car was pulling away.
    Then, the next day, my suspicions turned back to Victor. We met for dinner. Everyone was tense. The paintings arrived the next day. After that came the exchange with the insurance company. Except for the robbery, this would be the most dangerous moment of all.
    “You must trust