Thief of Hearts
Page 34
- Background:
- Text Font:
- Text Size:
- Line Height:
- Line Break Height:
- Frame:
Alfie let him in, and I heard a murmured conversation going on as I stepped out into the living room.
“Andrea,” said Stu, his gaze moving from my wet hair, down my bathrobe-clad body before coming back up to my face. I had to wonder what was with the small backpack he had with him.
“Andie’s filled me in on your proposal,” said Alfie, his arms folded as he took a seat on an armchair.
“Right,” Stu replied, nodding as his attention moved back and forth between the two of us. He looked like he thought he was being ambushed, like maybe the police were going to spring up from behind the sofa.
“Sit, please,” Alfie went on, gesturing to the couch. Stu sat and I went to perch on the edge of Alfie’s armchair.
“We’re prepared to help you, but first, we have a few conditions.”
Stu gestured with his hand. “Go ahead.”
“My conditions are as follows: One, I’ll complete the painting but Andie is to have no part in the robbery. Two, you’ll pay me a pre-agreed-upon sum for services rendered. You’ll act as my patron and I your artist. As far as anyone else is concerned, I know nothing about what you intend to do with my work. Three, once the transaction is complete, you’ll leave us alone. We don’t want to see you ever again once all this is over and done with.”
A trickle of unease hit me at the idea of never seeing him again.
No, Andie, that is a good thing. Stu Cross is not healthy for you.
Stu raised an eyebrow. “That it?”
Alfie nodded, his expression stoic.
“Well,” Stu began, “if Andrea isn’t helping me with the job, then she won’t get any money, and what I’m prepared to pay you for your work will be a fuck of a lot less.”
“How much are we talking?” asked Alfie.
“A hundred K.”
“What!” I exclaimed, my mouth falling open. “Just how much is this painting worth?”
Stu looked to me, his eyes falling to my chest where my bathrobe revealed a hint of skin. I quickly shifted it higher, trying to ignore the goosebumps his attention brought on.
“The Duke’s buyer is prepared to pay a mill for it. I get £200,000 and my family’s safety, you get £100,000, and the Duke gets the rest.”
Alfie snickered a laugh. “I’m sorry, but the Duke? I thought this couldn’t get any worse and then you go and throw a nickname like that into the mix.”
Stu just stared at him, giving no discernible reaction to his amusement.
“So,” my cousin continued, “a million pounds, eh? What painting exactly am I supposed to be replicating?”
“A Rembrandt,” said Stu. “I hear he’s your speciality. The painting’s called The Storm on the Sea of Galilee.”
Alfie barked a laugh. “I think someone’s been pulling your leg, darling.” Stu raised an eyebrow at the endearment. My cousin was totally channelling Jamie right now. Maybe that’s where his confidence was coming from. “That piece has been missing since 1990, after it was stolen from the Steward Gardner museum in Boston. It’s one of the most notorious art heists in modern history.”
“Yeah, but that’s just the thing,” Stu replied, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. “We’re not stealing it from a museum. We’re stealing it from the person who has it now.”
Alfie’s mouth shaped into a grin. “The plot certainly does thicken. You do realise that the FBI has been hunting down the thief for over two decades? I mean, people have written books about this robbery. Are you entirely sure this isn’t another fake?”
“Look, mate, I’m just a bloke doing a job for another bloke. I don’t know shit other than how I’m gonna steal it. After that, my work is done. I could give two fucks if it’s the genuine article or not. And look, I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking I’m too thick to pull this off.”
“On the contrary,” Alfie cut in. “In spite of what Hollywood would have us believe, the majority of art thefts aren’t undertaken by sophisticated criminal masterminds with dapper fashion senses, but quite the opposite. In fact, a lot of these thieves know little to nothing about art. They do it for the money. Take the Stewart Gardner robbery for instance. The robbers actually cut the paintings from their frames. Cut them from their frames! Anybody with a love or appreciation for art would never dream of doing such a thing. There were also far more valuable pieces they could’ve taken, which indicates they were either working with a shopping list of sorts, or they didn’t actually know what they were looking at. The latter being more likely. So, when you think about it you’re a perfect fit.”
Stu frowned at him, his mouth set in a firm line. “You know what, I can’t tell if you’re trying to reassure me or mugging me off.”
“Neither. I’m merely trying to inform you of the facts.”
I turned to my cousin, wanting to know more. Admittedly, I’d never heard of this notorious robbery, but then again, art was Alfie’s field. “What do the authorities know about the people who originally stole it?”
Alfie rubbed ponderously at his chin. “If memory serves me correctly, the thieves entered the museum dressed as police officers and stole thirteen pieces altogether. The empty frames that the paintings were cut from still hang on the museum walls. When Isabella Gardner, the owner of the museum, died, she put it in her will that if any of the art was ever changed, the entire museum would be handed over to Harvard for liquidation, hence why they remain in place.”
His words caused my skin to prickle, the significance of it, the history. Alfie levelled his gaze on Stu. “What I want to know is, who has the Rembrandt now, and how exactly do you plan on stealing it?”
Stu cocked an eyebrow. “You said you wanted nothing to do with that side of things, so maybe you should just focus on your part of the job.”
“But don’t you want my advice? Not to toot my own horn, but I’m pretty much an expert in this field. I can point out the holes in this plan ‘the Duke’ has given you.”
Stu eyed him dubiously. “You ever stolen before?”
“Well, no, that’s not what I meant. I’m not an expert in thievery, but I am an expert in people who appreciate art because I’m one of them. The person who owns this painting must surely be an art lover to risk imprisonment just to own such a piece. I’ll be able to tell you what makes him tick, as it were.”
“Andrea,” said Stu, his gaze moving from my wet hair, down my bathrobe-clad body before coming back up to my face. I had to wonder what was with the small backpack he had with him.
“Andie’s filled me in on your proposal,” said Alfie, his arms folded as he took a seat on an armchair.
“Right,” Stu replied, nodding as his attention moved back and forth between the two of us. He looked like he thought he was being ambushed, like maybe the police were going to spring up from behind the sofa.
“Sit, please,” Alfie went on, gesturing to the couch. Stu sat and I went to perch on the edge of Alfie’s armchair.
“We’re prepared to help you, but first, we have a few conditions.”
Stu gestured with his hand. “Go ahead.”
“My conditions are as follows: One, I’ll complete the painting but Andie is to have no part in the robbery. Two, you’ll pay me a pre-agreed-upon sum for services rendered. You’ll act as my patron and I your artist. As far as anyone else is concerned, I know nothing about what you intend to do with my work. Three, once the transaction is complete, you’ll leave us alone. We don’t want to see you ever again once all this is over and done with.”
A trickle of unease hit me at the idea of never seeing him again.
No, Andie, that is a good thing. Stu Cross is not healthy for you.
Stu raised an eyebrow. “That it?”
Alfie nodded, his expression stoic.
“Well,” Stu began, “if Andrea isn’t helping me with the job, then she won’t get any money, and what I’m prepared to pay you for your work will be a fuck of a lot less.”
“How much are we talking?” asked Alfie.
“A hundred K.”
“What!” I exclaimed, my mouth falling open. “Just how much is this painting worth?”
Stu looked to me, his eyes falling to my chest where my bathrobe revealed a hint of skin. I quickly shifted it higher, trying to ignore the goosebumps his attention brought on.
“The Duke’s buyer is prepared to pay a mill for it. I get £200,000 and my family’s safety, you get £100,000, and the Duke gets the rest.”
Alfie snickered a laugh. “I’m sorry, but the Duke? I thought this couldn’t get any worse and then you go and throw a nickname like that into the mix.”
Stu just stared at him, giving no discernible reaction to his amusement.
“So,” my cousin continued, “a million pounds, eh? What painting exactly am I supposed to be replicating?”
“A Rembrandt,” said Stu. “I hear he’s your speciality. The painting’s called The Storm on the Sea of Galilee.”
Alfie barked a laugh. “I think someone’s been pulling your leg, darling.” Stu raised an eyebrow at the endearment. My cousin was totally channelling Jamie right now. Maybe that’s where his confidence was coming from. “That piece has been missing since 1990, after it was stolen from the Steward Gardner museum in Boston. It’s one of the most notorious art heists in modern history.”
“Yeah, but that’s just the thing,” Stu replied, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. “We’re not stealing it from a museum. We’re stealing it from the person who has it now.”
Alfie’s mouth shaped into a grin. “The plot certainly does thicken. You do realise that the FBI has been hunting down the thief for over two decades? I mean, people have written books about this robbery. Are you entirely sure this isn’t another fake?”
“Look, mate, I’m just a bloke doing a job for another bloke. I don’t know shit other than how I’m gonna steal it. After that, my work is done. I could give two fucks if it’s the genuine article or not. And look, I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking I’m too thick to pull this off.”
“On the contrary,” Alfie cut in. “In spite of what Hollywood would have us believe, the majority of art thefts aren’t undertaken by sophisticated criminal masterminds with dapper fashion senses, but quite the opposite. In fact, a lot of these thieves know little to nothing about art. They do it for the money. Take the Stewart Gardner robbery for instance. The robbers actually cut the paintings from their frames. Cut them from their frames! Anybody with a love or appreciation for art would never dream of doing such a thing. There were also far more valuable pieces they could’ve taken, which indicates they were either working with a shopping list of sorts, or they didn’t actually know what they were looking at. The latter being more likely. So, when you think about it you’re a perfect fit.”
Stu frowned at him, his mouth set in a firm line. “You know what, I can’t tell if you’re trying to reassure me or mugging me off.”
“Neither. I’m merely trying to inform you of the facts.”
I turned to my cousin, wanting to know more. Admittedly, I’d never heard of this notorious robbery, but then again, art was Alfie’s field. “What do the authorities know about the people who originally stole it?”
Alfie rubbed ponderously at his chin. “If memory serves me correctly, the thieves entered the museum dressed as police officers and stole thirteen pieces altogether. The empty frames that the paintings were cut from still hang on the museum walls. When Isabella Gardner, the owner of the museum, died, she put it in her will that if any of the art was ever changed, the entire museum would be handed over to Harvard for liquidation, hence why they remain in place.”
His words caused my skin to prickle, the significance of it, the history. Alfie levelled his gaze on Stu. “What I want to know is, who has the Rembrandt now, and how exactly do you plan on stealing it?”
Stu cocked an eyebrow. “You said you wanted nothing to do with that side of things, so maybe you should just focus on your part of the job.”
“But don’t you want my advice? Not to toot my own horn, but I’m pretty much an expert in this field. I can point out the holes in this plan ‘the Duke’ has given you.”
Stu eyed him dubiously. “You ever stolen before?”
“Well, no, that’s not what I meant. I’m not an expert in thievery, but I am an expert in people who appreciate art because I’m one of them. The person who owns this painting must surely be an art lover to risk imprisonment just to own such a piece. I’ll be able to tell you what makes him tick, as it were.”
