CHAPTER 28

Cassie and Wade droppedtheir feet to the floor and exchanged another look. Then they both got up and walked down the center aisle between the desks, straight into Chief Roland’s office. The chief glanced curiously at the fluffy white dog trailing in their wake but said nothing as he closed the door behind the three of them.

Cassie noted how the interior of the chief’s office contrasted with the rest of the precinct furnishings. Plush blue carpeting covered the floor instead of the antiseptic gray tile of the main room and lobby. Two windows at the back of the office let in the glowing light of the early evening sun. Centered between the windows was a filled walnut bookshelf that matched the desk in front of it. The chief moved his large bulk behind the desk and indicated two chairs across from him with a small wave. Wade and Cassie each sat in one, and Angel curled up at Cassie’s feet. Zack already lounged casually on the front corner of the chief’s desk, facing them, one leg on the floor and the other dangling.

The painting, Madonna and Child with San Giovannino, had been removed from its crate and now stood leaning against the closed blinds of one window wall adjacent to the chief’s desk.

Chief Roland sat back down in his chair. His thinning dark hair was slicked back with gel and his brown eyes were alert as they moved between the two of them. He leaned forward, fingers clasped in front of him as he cleared his throat and said, “I believe you both know Zack Barrett.” He indicated Zack with a tilt of his head.

Cassie and Wade both nodded.

Chief Roland cleared his throat again. “Well, what you may not know,” he said, “is that he’s a federal agent.”

“A federal agent?” Cassie repeated, feeling confused.

“Yes, Cassie,” Zack spoke up. “I work in conjunction with the FBI Art Crime Team.”

“Oh,” Cassie said, still feeling confused. “But you work for Olga, too?”

“Sort of.” He gave a tight smile. “I’m actually working undercover. My team is running a sting operation and we’ve been working to bust one of the country’s largest art smuggling rings.”

“Wow,” Cassie said. “Does Olga know?”

Zack and Chief Roland exchanged glances. “No,” Zack said. “Actually...Olga is a key member of that ring.”

“What?!” Cassie and Wade exclaimed together.

“But she’s such a sweet old lady!” Cassie said. Her head was spinning as she grappled with the reality of what he’d just said.

Zack looked grim. “Yes, but we have evidence that this sweet old lady has been involved in a number of art crimes. My team investigated her many years ago, before I joined them, when they believed she was peddling looted goods. But they could never prove it, and then she seemed to go straight. Now, however, we’ve got evidence that she’s dealing with stolen art.”

“I don’t get it,” Cassie said. “What’s the difference between looted and stolen art?”

Zack smiled. “The difference is more a matter of semantics. Looting typically refers to art and cultural relics that have been smuggled from their countries of origin, usually during times of conflict or war. The laws around looting used to be much more ambiguous, so looting rings could make a lot of money because they could often get the full value when selling a particular piece of art,” Zack explained. “When we talk about stolen goods, we’re referring to artwork that is stolen from a museum or an individual. With stolen goods, art thieves only get a small fraction of what a piece of art is worth because it’s difficult to move it when everyone knows it’s stolen.”

“Makes sense,” Cassie said.

“But if looting pays so much more, why would Olga switch from looting to stolen artwork?” Wade asked.

“We can only suspect why,” Zack said. “Part of the reason may be that in the past few years, we’ve developed tougher laws around looted goods. So the market for selling them in the U.S. is drying up. And art dealers are looking much closer at the provenance of pieces.”

“What’s provenance?” Cassie asked.

Zack shifted his position on the chief’s desk, leaning forward to explain. “Provenance shows the record of ownership for a piece of art, from the time it was originally discovered until today. If a piece was smuggled out of its country of origin, there’s no legitimate way to show its provenance.”

“How did you figure out that Olga is dealing in stolen art now?” Wade asked.

“She fell back onto the FBI’s radar a few years ago, after a 1911 Picasso painting known as La Coiffeuse, or The Hairdresser, was stolen from a Paris museum. It was valued at fifteen million dollars.”

Wade let out a low whistle.

“The piece was identified by Newark, New Jersey immigration officials when it was on its way from Belgium to Queens in New York, where Olga Kozlovsky was living and working at that time. Even though it was addressed to an untraceable post office box, we believe it was shipped to her to repair some minor damages that occurred after it was stolen. Somehow though, she got wind that the painting had been discovered. She never came to claim it. And shortly afterward, Olga packed up and moved to Whispering Pines to establish her business here. Since then we’ve successfully gathered clear evidence showing that she’s a member of a highly sophisticated smuggling ring.

“How big is the ring?” Wade asked.

“Big. We’ve already identified most of the members, including complicit government officials and customs agents bribed to look the other way when shipments come in. Olga is a key player in the ring due to her unique mix of connections and her skill as an art restoration specialist.”

Wade leaned forward in his chair, looking thoughtful. “You mentioned that when these art smuggling rings deal in stolen goods, they only get a fraction of what a piece of the art is worth.”

“That’s right,” Zack said. “With looted artwork, pieces often go to auction at Sotheby’s or Christie’s, where the competition among buyers drives up the price. But that isn’t an option once an art theft has made headlines. Because the source of its value, its fame, also makes it impossible to sell for its full worth in any legitimate venue. Stolen art has to be sold on the black market, where sellers only get between seven and ten percent of the true value of a piece.”

Wade frowned. “So, we know from talking with you and Olga after the theft, that this painting Brett stole,” he indicated the painting propped against the window, “was only worth $60,000. Why would one of the country’s largest smuggling rings be involved in something that will only net them, what? $6,000 max?”

“Well,” said Chief Roland, “there’s more to this painting than initially meets the eye.”

“What do you mean?” Wade said.

Zack pushed away from the desk and walked over to pick up the painting from its position against the wall. “May I use your desk, chief?”

“Certainly,” he replied, rising and stepping to one side to give Zack space.

The simple box-like wooden frame of the artwork was ornate; a distinctive inner and outer molding ran around a rather flat central frieze. Zack laid the artwork on top of the desk and pulled open the gray box Cassie and Wade had seen him carry into the office when he’d arrived. He removed a pair of thin white rubber gloves and a small, silver screwdriver from the set of tools lining each side of the black velvet-clad case interior. He flipped the painting over and carefully bent up each of the metal pieces holding the backing in place. Using the same tool, he gently lifted up one corner of it and eased it out.

Cassie could see the back of the canvas painting beneath it. Everyone watched as Zack carefully lifted it out with gloved fingers.

Cassie frowned in confusion when she spotted the back of another canvas lying beneath the one Zack had removed. Apparently, there were two paintings inside the frame. The one that Zack now held had been hidden behind Madonna and Child with San Giovannino.

Carefully, Zack turned the hidden canvas around to face them.

Cassie gasped. It was The Concert.

“That’s the painting I saw pictures of on your desk!” she cried.

“Yes,” Zack looked embarrassed. “That was me being sloppy. I was only away from my desk for a moment, but I should never have left that photograph lying there.” He carefully laid The Concert down on top of the inverted frame where they could all easily see it.

“Cassie and I read about this painting,” Wade said, rising to look more closely at it.

“So, you know it’s from one of the biggest art heists in history,” Zack said.

Wade nodded. “The article said it was stolen in 1990 by a couple of thieves disguised as police officers. They tricked their way into Boston’s Isabella Steward Gardner Museum in the middle of the night.”

“That’s true,” Zack said. “And a mere eighty-one minutes later, they made off with thirteen works of art by artists such as Degas, Rembrandt, Manet, and this one by Vermeer, which is considered the most valuable painting ever stolen. It has an estimated value of—”

“$250 million dollars,” Wade and Cassie said in unison.

Zack looked surprised, but nodded. “So, as you can see, even considering the black market value, this piece could bring in a cool $25 million all by itself.”

“Olga’s perfect retirement plan,” murmured Cassie.

“After the original theft, our team initiated an investigation, Operation Masterpiece, to recover the pieces. We traced The Concert to the Connecticut and Philadelphia regions, but then we lost track of it. Until several months ago, that is. We picked up chatter that someone was trying to move it through Olga’s ring. That’s why we, er...removed her former assistant, and I was sent in to work undercover. Our goal is to identify all the players and bust the entire ring. And also to return this famous piece of art to its museum home.”

“Well, congratulations!” Cassie said. “Looks like you’ve accomplished your mission.”

Zack pursed his lips. “Not quite.”

“What do you mean?” Cassie said.

Zack moved so the chief could take his seat again, and he began pacing up and down in the tiny office. “After I was hired by Olga, my team did their best to establish my credibility in her eyes. Shortly after I started, I brought her a deal with a piece of allegedly stolen art. We used undercover operatives as a phony art thief seller and buyer for the transaction, and Olga made a small profit on it. Unfortunately, she still doesn’t completely trust me. And there’s one key member of the ring that I haven’t yet been able to identify. We only know it’s a woman and we call her the Liaison. She’s the one who matches up sellers and buyers for the ring, and coordinates the deals.”

“We were really close to nailing her,” Zack said. “When I packaged all this up for you, Cassie,” he waved a hand to encompass the paintings on the desk, “we already had a team in place to watch the delivery. We planned to catch the Liaison the moment she arrived to pick up the package. But Brett stole it and messed up everything.”

“Wait a minute,” Cassie said with a frown. “I never thought about it, but how the heck did Brett know to steal that painting in the first place?”

“That’s a great question,” Zack agreed. “And one that baffled Olga, as well as my team for quite some time. We couldn’t believe it had been taken right out from under our noses.” Zack returned to his perch on the corner of the chief’s desk. “At first, I think Olga thought she’d been double crossed by the Liaison or another member of the ring. But it was clear pretty quickly that this wasn’t the case. We discovered that it was sheer dumb luck that Brett found out about it.”

“That sounds about right,” Cassie muttered.

“A couple of weeks after it was stolen, our team learned that someone was trying to unload it. But the thief was sloppy, definitely not a professional, and made all kinds of rookie mistakes. For instance, he started out by contacting the museum anonymously to get information about the reward money for turning it in. Then he must’ve decided he could get more by trying to sell it. But his efforts didn’t pan out because he has no contacts in the industry.

“The real break came from you, Cassie. When you stopped by to tell Olga and me about your suspicions concerning Brett and that you’d seen him researching famous art thefts. Suddenly, the pieces fell into place. But after your interview with him...” he tipped his head toward Wade. “As you know, Brett vanished. I put my team on it, and we finally tracked him down. I confronted him at the restaurant where you saw us.” His gaze swung between Cassie and Wade.

“I got him to admit he’d stolen it, but he wouldn’t turn it over. And he threatened to destroy it if we didn’t cut him in on the deal. I didn’t want to blow my cover by forcing the situation, so I decided to play along. I told Olga about it, and she was furious. Just like me, but for different reasons of course.” Zack shook his head ruefully. “But there was nothing we could do. As unbelievable as it was, Brett held all the cards.”

“Unbelievable is right,” Wade said.

“But you didn’t answer my question,” Cassie said, leaning forward in her chair. “How did Brett know about The Concert in the first place?”

“Oh right, sorry!” Zack gave a shake of his head. “It was literally a random fluke. One afternoon when I was out of the office picking up lunch for Olga and me, he arrived earlier than expected for a package pick-up. The front door was unlocked and he walked in while Olga was on the phone with the Liaison. Olga, believing that she was alone, was speaking freely about the entire plan, including when she’d be finished with the restoration. She even mentioned The Concert by name. When I walked in with lunch, Brett acted as if he’d only just arrived. But afterward, he must have done his own research on it and discovered how valuable it was, and then decided to steal it for himself.

“We suspect he kept his eye out for Olga’s deliveries around the day he knew she planned to ship it. He was hoping to handle that delivery himself. Unfortunately, you messed that up for him when you were assigned to pick up the package that day, Cassie. So, then he was forced to steal it from you,” Zack said, looking at her.

“And now, it looks like you’ve thwarted Brett’s plans once again,” said Chief Roland with a grin.

“One of my most favorite things to do in the world,” Cassie said, grinning back.

“So, what happens now?” Wade asked. “How do you plan to identify and capture the Liaison?”

Chief Roland looked at Zack, who gave him a quick nod. Then he looked at Cassie. “The FBI and the Whispering Pines Police Department would like Cassie to accept an undercover assignment for us,” he said.

“What?!” Wade said.

Cassie felt blood rush to her head.

Zack looked directly at Cassie. “Olga already knows you plan to bring the painting back to her once the police have processed it. So, you bring it to her tonight. Then you offer to hand deliver the painting to her client for extra safety. Tell her you’ll operate freelance, so there’s no official record of the delivery, and no chance for further thefts from Brett or anyone else. This won’t seem too strange because she knows how much you care about doing a good job for her. Get her to trust you, Cassie. Once she gives you the recipient’s name and delivery location, we’ll have the final piece of the puzzle that we need. Our ability to take down the entire ring hinges on this; we have to know who the Liaison is.”

“Sounds all neat and tidy,” Wade said, with a frown on his face. “But how do we make sure Cassie is safe in case something goes sideways.”

“We put a wire on her,” Chief Roland said. “We’ll call in Hugo so that we have you, him, and Zack all listening and ready to step in if anything happens.” Then he looked at Cassie. “Are you up for this?”

She sat in silence for a long moment. Then she said, “I’m still struggling to wrap my head around the fact that my favorite client is a master criminal. I find it so hard to believe. But if everything you say is true, what she’s doing is terrible and she needs to be stopped.” Cassie took a deep breath. “All right, I’m in. Let’s catch a thief!”