Pawn by Greg Curtis

sergeant then as he suggested the obvious answer. The press were the natural enemy of the police, and most especially him. Except that it was what they had to do. He hated the press. He hated giving statements and having people shoving microphones in his face. He hated the endless flash of cameras in his face and the endlessly repeated questions. And he hated them even more than usual of late.
     
    After someone had tipped them off about the painting, and he had his suspicions as to who, he had not only become their newest target, but he had also had strips torn off him by the chief. A leak like that was more than unprofessional. It was disloyalty. But Barns was sure the story hadn’t come from his people. There was simply too much information along with photos of the painting. He couldn’t vouch for the techs of course, since they didn’t come under his purview. But if he had to guess who, Barns would have said it was Venner who’d leaked it, along with the photos.
     
    The man was playing an angle of course. There was some way that he still intended to profit from the theft. Even if the painting was uninsured. Though he couldn’t quite see how yet, Barns would have bet his last penny on it. People were true to their nature and Venner’s nature was greed. Maybe he thought that he’d get the painting back, which considering that Barns was still certain he’d had a hand in stealing, wasn’t impossible. Maybe he hoped that the publicity would give any buyers second thoughts about receiving it. Or maybe he even hoped that when he got the painting back, the notoriety would drive up the price. A stolen Rembrandt, recovered. That had to be worth more than a normal one.
     
    Still going to the press was a good suggestion. The only one they had. Hopkins was right. And they had to flush Rufus Hennassy out and get him into protective custody as quickly as possible. If they could. Before someone else found him, and another fire fight broke out. Barns knew there were people looking for him. People who didn’t want to protect him. All they wanted was the painting, and they thought he had it. By now Mr. Hennassy did too.
     
    Yes, the media was the right choice. It was their only choice. But it would have to be very carefully done. They’d have to be very selective about what they said and what they didn’t. And above all else, they couldn’t actually link him with the painting. That would just set more people on Mr. Hennassy’s tail, start more fights and turn a slowly evolving nightmare into a full-scale disaster.
     
    The inspector sighed quietly as he realised it was going to have to be him who made the statement. All those people, the cameras and microphones, the endless questions. And even though he would give them nothing more than a bare statement, something about a person of interest, they would hound him for days.
     
    Sometimes it wasn’t an easy life being a copper. But it must be so much worse being Rufus Hennassy just then.
     
    If only they knew where he was.
     
    Yet even as he wondered about that he had to also ask himself if it was really the best choice, finding him. The man had powerful enemies. Enemies with deep pockets. And too many police liked money as much as crooks. Even their best protective custody might not be so secure. It was something he suspected that their missing victim already knew. Rufus Hennassy was the only person Rufus Hennassy would trust. If he could find a hidey hole and keep his head down for a few months, maybe that would be the safer path for him. Certainly he would think so.
     
    But it wasn’t safe. Not for everyone else. Already Barns was becoming convinced that Mr. Hennassy would survive. That seemed to simply be the way of things. But all around him as his enemies hunted him relentlessly, others would fall. Getting him into protective custody might not be enough to save Mr. Hennassy. He wasn’t sure anything would be. But maybe it would stop the innocents getting caught up