Homeport

he rattled off a request for a bottle of local wine and a selection of cheeses in perfect Italian.
    “I’m not tolerating your feeble attempts at bullying me.”
    “Sweetheart, you’re going to tolerate what I tell you to tolerate. I’ve got the lady.”
    “You’re laboring under— What? ” The color that had rushed into her face faded again. “What do you mean you’ve got the lady?”

    “She’s sitting under the table.”
    “Under the—” When she would have scraped her chair back and dived under, he simply tightened his grip on her hand until she had to muffle a yelp.
    “Look at me, cara, and pretend you’re in love.” He brought her bruised fingers to his lips.
    “Are you telling me that you walked into a museum in broad daylight and walked out with the bronze?”
    “I’m good. I told you.”
    “But just now? Now? You were only gone for thirty minutes.”
    “If a guard hadn’t wandered into the storage area to sneak a wine break, I’d have cut that in half.”
    “But you said we had to check the place out, to tape it, to take measurements, get the feel.”
    He kissed her fingers again. “I lied.” He kept her hand in his, kept his eyes dreamily on hers while the waiter set their wine and cheese on the table. Recognizing lovers, the waiter smiled indulgently and left them alone.
    “You lied.”
    “If I’d told you I was going in to get it, you’d have been nervous, jumpy, and very likely have screwed things up.” He poured wine for both of them, sampled and approved. “The wine from this region is exceptional. Aren’t you going to try it?”
    Still staring at him, she lifted her glass and downed the contents in several long swallows. She was now an accessory to theft.
    “If you’re going to drink like that, you better soak some of it up.” He sliced off some cheese, offered it. “Here.”
    She pushed his hand away and reached for the bottle. “You knew going in that you were going to do this.”
    “I knew going in that if the opportunity presented itself, I’d make the switch.”
    “What switch?”
    “The bronze we bought earlier. I put that in her place. I told you, most people see what they expect to see. There’s a bronze statue of a woman sitting in the storeroom. Odds are no one’s going to notice it’s the wrong bronze for a bit.”
    He sampled some cheese, approved, and built some onto a cracker. “When they do, they’ll look for the right one, likely figure it was moved. And when they don’t find her, they won’t be able to pinpoint when she was taken. If our luck holds, we’ll be back in the States by that time anyway.”
    “I need to see it.”
    “There’s time for that. I gotta tell you, knowingly stealing a forgery . . . it just doesn’t give you that rush.”
    “Doesn’t it?” she murmured.
    “Nope. And I’m going to miss that rush when I’m fully retired. You did a good job, by the way.”
    “Oh.” She didn’t feel a rush at all, just a sinking sensation in her stomach.
    “Distracting the guard. Better fortify yourself.” He offered cheese again. “We’ve still got work to do.”
     
    It was surreal, sitting in the hotel room and holding The Dark Lady in her hands. She examined it carefully, noting where samples and scrapings had been taken, judging the weight, critiquing the style.
    It was a beautiful and graceful piece of work, with the blue-green patina giving it the dignity of age.
    She set it on the table beside the David .
    “She’s gorgeous,” Ryan commented as he puffed on his cigar. “Your sketch of her was very accurate. You didn’t capture the spirit, but you certainly got the details. You’d be a better artist if you put some heart into your work.”
    “I’m not an artist.” Her throat was dry as dust. “I’m a scientist, and this isn’t the bronze I tested.”
    He lifted a brow. “How do you know?”
    She couldn’t tell him it felt wrong. She couldn’t even acknowledge to herself that it simply didn’t give her the same tingle in her fingertips when she held it. So she gave him facts.
    “It’s very possible for someone with training to recognize the work of the twentieth century just by a visual exam. In this case I certainly wouldn’t depend on that alone. But I took scrapings. Here, and here.” She used a fingertip to point to the back of the calf, the curve of the shoulder. “There’s no sign of them on this piece. Ponti’s lab took scrapings from the back, and the base. Those aren’t my