Page 71 of The Chase
Get a grip, Zara.
Your mind is meant to be on Icon, I chastised myself.
Being part of the team involved in one of the world’s greatest spate of robberies was exhilarating. My dad would have been so proud of me.
I pulled out my iPhone, cringing at the cracked glass, and shot off an email to Logan, asking her to advise Mr. Wilder I was running late. It didn’t seem fair I had to go through her to contact him. Perhaps if I’d been thinking straight I’d have remembered to have asked him for his number.
I couldn’t wait to see him again; my mood lifted with the thought.
Andrew threw me a wave.
He was tall and dashingly cute, those dimples setting off his Asian dark eyes that lit up with his smile. I put him at thirty, though his colleague was much older.
From their enthusiasm they both looked to be in their element, tucked away down here where no one bothered them.
“Hey.” I headed on over. “Didn’t want to break your concentration.” Andrew placed the scanner down and gestured for me to come closer. “I’m Zara, from Huntly Pierre.”
“Hey, Zara,” he said. “We had a last-minute cancellation. Usually you’re looking at a two-week wait.”
“Lucky me, then,” I said, unable to take my eyes off the Monet. “Gorgeous.”
“This is Sam, our tech.”
I shook Andrew’s hand and then Sam’s. “What’s your conclusion?”
“Let me know what you think first,” said Andrew with a glint of delight as he stepped back to give me room.
“I’d be honored.” I neared the painting.
Claude Monet, one of France’s most talented impressionists, was famed for painting the same scene again and again, though each time offering a different perspective on light and seasons. I’d always found his work soothing.
“Signature’s reassuring,” I said.
“Isn’t it,” agreed Andrew.
“Monet was good friends with Renoir,” I said. “They often painted the same landscapes at the same time. Even swapped them at the end of the day sometimes.”
“The birth of impressionism.” Andrew smiled at me. “You know your history. Royal College?”
“Courtauld. Studied under Professor Liana Belmont.”
“Impressive,” said Sam.
“May I?” I picked up the magnifier and used it to view the colors. “Water lilies, so dreamlike.” Then I saw that one single cracked lily. “‘The truth will out.’”
“Shakespeare,” said Andrew, recognizing my quote.
“How can you see that without this?” Sam pointed to the stereomicroscope.
“It’s the intricacy of the white.” I set the magnifier down. “Monet had a gentle touch.” I turned the painting over. “The forger used antique nails to secure the canvas. Clever. He also aged the backing. There’s an official gallery sticker but it’s stained with tea to make it appear aged. I’m going with Typhoo tea.”
“Okay, wow,” said Andrew.
I let out a laugh. “If only I wasthatgood.” They both swapped amused smiles.
I gave a shrug. “Still, it’s more likely to be tea than coffee from the lighter stain.”
“You’re hired,” said Andrew.
