Page 79 of Take the Sub and Run

Sofie nodded, but what she said was, “Allegedly.”

Colette made a snorting sound as she tried to stifle a laugh.

“Is your father trying to pass off your original art as undiscovered pieces by famous masters?” Andrei asked.

“I'm glad you're as smart as I think you are.” Sofie tried to imitate his mocking tone.

Andrei shot her a look of warning and gentle threat that made her squirm a little in her chair.

“This is brilliant,” Colette breathed. “The provenience is nearly impeccable. If the Vatican says that these were gifted to the church, who would doubt them? And so many art records were lost during the war, it wouldn’t be hard to say that original sales records are simply missing.”

“To be clear,” Rolf said, “you did not intentionally paint those to be misrepresented as being pieces by the named artists.”

“I painted them as I was trying to find my own style. That’s what you do—you try every style, to see if that’s what you love. And if you are going to do it, why wouldn’t you try to do it in the way the masters did? Those—” she pointed at the screen, “—are some of the first pieces I made after my art residency.”

Sofie’s chest burned with anger and she had to clench her hands together to stop the rage from making them shake. “My gallery was full of my art for years. My father asked me if I needed somewhere to store them, but I said no. I wanted them with me. I was planning to, someday, go back to my mentor at the residency and ask for help putting on my own show. I wanted to wait until I had found my style, and had enough good pieces in it.

“My father would sometimes look at my original pieces, always complimented them. But one day, he came when I was rearranging, and I had all my favorite pieces out on display. He asked specifically about those and a few others. Asked me what pigments, brushes, and type of canvas I used. Then he asked if anyone else had seen them.

“A week later, I…I came home from the market and they were gone. All my original art, gone.”

She could feel Andrei looking at her but kept her gaze on her hands, not sure she was ready to see what he felt about her confession.

“If you didn't create them specifically as forgeries, the authentication will show that they're modern, won't it?” Landon asked.

“Most of my paintings were created using only what the artists of the time would have had. Stretched my own canvas, and made my own paint for those ones they say are van Gogh and Cezan.

“I prepared my own poplar wood panel. Used charcoal first, then ink and watercolor, just like da Vinci did with Adoration of the Magi.” Sofie twisted in her seat to look at Colette. “I know it’s unfinished, but with da Vinci, I like those pieces best.”

“It’s stunning,” Colette said. “And you’re right, the contrast between the section—only sketched, inked in, shaded with the watercolor—is so striking.”

“Thank you.” Sofie’s shoulders scrunched up in pleasure. “I loved making it so much. I wanted to see if I could create the same way they had.”

“And you proved that you can.” Colette was still studying the images on the screen, clicking back and forth between them.

“So the fact that they were in the Vatican archive and they won’t find any modern pigment paints, means no one will look too hard?” Landon ran his hand up and down Colette’s back as he spoke.

“It's more than that. Because some van Gogh expert will look at the brushstrokes and swear they were painted by Vincent himself.” Colette looked first at Landon, then Andrei. “Sofie is that good.”

Sofie’s blush didn’t burn this time, merely a pleasant heat at the praise.

“Van Gogh and Cezan both famously didn't remember to sign every single one of their paintings, so the lack of signature doesn't rule it out either.” Colette’s gaze was unfocused as she thought it through. “Any inconsistencies with the age of the varnish, or lack of dust and cracking, can be explained as previous restoration efforts, better storage…”

“Wait, you said he took everything?” Andrei’s jaw clenched.

Sofie nodded.

Andrei made a sound that wasn’t a laugh, not a true one. It was a sound that acknowledged how cruel people can be.

“Art is the thing you love above all, and he stole that from you.”

Sofie nodded, but hesitantly. Once, she would have agreed with the statement that art was the thing she loved above all. But that was back when her world had been small.

An odd look of satisfaction crossed Andrei's face. “That's why you stay. Your father stole your art, and you’re waiting. Waiting for…” Andrei paused, studying her. “For him to give you some sort of access to wherever he’s keeping everything. You know you need information, and, if he’s already moved everything to Vatican City, you need access. Once you have that, you’ll steal back your original art. That’s why you stay.”

There it was, the truth of it all. The reason she’d been so desperate to be part of Colette’s heist. The reason she didn’t simply make herself a passport and leave.

She’d never admitted any of this before. Who would she have told? More than that, she only let herself think about all the pieces he’d taken once in a while, because thinking about it too often made her burn with frustration and rage.

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