16: Step Sixteen: How To Spot A Fake

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"The thieves who took "The Crucifixion," a painting by the Flemish artist Pieter Brueghel the Younger, from a church in a Northern Italian town on Wednesday, knew what they were doing. They planned the heist at the church, Santa Maria Maddalena, for lunchtime, when the parish priest was sure to be out. They worked quickly, smashing the showcase protecting the 17th-century work with a hammer, before jumping into a getaway car. What the thieves didn't know was that the painting was a copy that had been substituted for the original artwork a few weeks earlier, after the carabinieri, Italy's military police, were tipped off that burglars had their sights set on the Brueghel. The only people besides the carabinieri who knew about the substitution were the priest of the church and the local mayor, and in the hours after the theft, they pretended to be distraught."

Elisabetta Povoledo, The New York Times, March 14, 2019

~**~~**~

This monitor was top of the line.

Nico thought her last ankle tracker had been nice but it didn't even compare to the device hugging her leg at that very moment.

While the other device had been clunky, heavy, and very noticeable, the sleek body now strapped to her body fit perfectly underneath her pants, hiding it from the world.

She didn't even notice the weight as she took a step into the foyer of the mansion. Like all mansions, it possessed a certain. . . mansioness that reeked of wealth, luxury, and multiple butlers.

Mansioness? Was that a word?

She didn't know and frankly, didn't care enough to look it up in a dictionary.

No one was annotating her internal monologue anyway.

She was surprised that the stiff-backed maid at the door didn't make her remove her shoes before entering but upon seeing the great ribbons of crime scene tape slashed across the adjacent room, Nico figured there was more to worry about than muddy boot prints.

After all, a 3.6 million dollar 17th-century Baroque Dutch painting had just disappeared overnight.

Mysteriously.

Meticulously.

Methodically.

Nico felt her palms begin to itch just thinking about it.

Ahead of her, Will marched forward, nodding to an uniformed officer stationed in front of the yellow tape. A cordial greeting passed between the two of them as Will passed the barrier.

Following close behind, Nico half expected the officer to refuse her entry. However, he just nodded the same cordial greeting as he waved her in.

The undetectable monitor was already paying for itself.

The main room was surprisingly muted for such a grand house.

Beige drapes hung from the windows and cherry wood panels covered the walls. The naked drywall was painted a silvery gray that sparkled every so often in the sunlight.

It was almost as if the painter had crushed diamonds and brushed the powder onto the wall.

Perhaps that was actually what happened.

Nico wouldn't put it past the rich.

She felt it pull her attention as the sun adjusted its position in the sky slightly.

When Commander Rhodes had burst into the conference room, he had said a painting had been stolen but didn't specify where.

Naturally, Nico had assumed it was from another museum or even the same one. But imagine her surprise when Will pulled up to this private residence instead of a museum.

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