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The Rembrandt Affair

The Rembrandt Affair

Titel: The Rembrandt Affair Kostenlos Bücher Online Lesen
Autoren: Daniel Silva
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of my tailor-made suits, petal. In fact, we were able to reach a deal very quickly. I was to deliver the painting to Washington, fully restored, in six months’ time. Then the director of the National Gallery would unveil his prize to the world.”
    “You didn’t mention the sale price.”
    “You didn’t ask.”
    “I’m asking.”
    “Forty-five million. I initialed a draft agreement of the deal in Washington and treated myself to a few days with a special friend at the Eden Rock Hotel in Saint Barths. Then I returned to London and started looking for a restorer. I needed someone good. Someone with a bit of natural discretion. Which is why I went to Paris to see Shamron.”
    Isherwood looked to Gabriel for a response. Greeted by silence, he slowed to a stop and watched the waves crashing against the rocks at Lizard Point.
    “When Shamron told me that you still weren’t ready to work, I reluctantly settled on another restorer. Someone who would jump at the chance to clean a long-lost Rembrandt. A former staff conservator from the Tate who’d gone into private practice. Not quite as elegant as my first choice but solid and much less complicated. No issues with terrorists or Russian arms dealers. Never asked me to keep a defector’s cat for the weekend. And no dead bodies turning up. Except now.” Isherwood turned to Gabriel. “Unless you’ve given up watching the news, I’m sure you can finish the rest of the story.”
    “You hired Christopher Liddell.”
    Isherwood nodded slowly and gazed at the darkening sea. “It’s a shame you didn’t take the job, Gabriel. The only person to die would have been the thief. And I’d still have my Rembrandt.”

6
    THE LIZARD PENINSULA, CORNWALL
    H edgerows lined the narrow track leading north from Lizard Point, blocking all views of the surrounding countryside. Isherwood drove at a snail’s pace, his long body hunched over the wheel, while Gabriel stared silently out the window.
    “You knew him, didn’t you?”
    Gabriel nodded absently. “We apprenticed together in Venice under Umberto Conti. Liddell never cared for me.”
    “That’s understandable. He must have been envious. Liddell was gifted, but he wasn’t in your league. You were the star, and everyone knew it.”
    It was true, thought Gabriel. By the time Christopher Liddell arrived in Venice he was already a skilled craftsman—more skilled, even, than Gabriel—but he had never been able to win Umberto’s approval. Liddell’s work was methodical and thorough but lacked the invisible fire Umberto saw each time Gabriel’s brush touched a canvas. Umberto had a magic ring of keys that could open any door in Venice. Late at night he would drag Gabriel from his room to study the city’s masterpieces. Liddell became angry when he learned of the nocturnal tutorials and asked for an invitation. Umberto refused. Liddell’s instruction would be limited to daylight hours. The nights belonged to Gabriel.
    “It’s not every day an art restorer is brutally murdered in the United Kingdom,” Isherwood said. “Given your circumstances, it must have come as something of a shock.”
    “Let’s just say I read the stories this morning with more than a passing interest. And none mentioned a missing Rembrandt, newly discovered or otherwise.”
    “That’s because on the advice of the Art and Antiques Squad at Scotland Yard, the local police have agreed to keep the theft a secret, at least for the time being. Undue publicity only makes recovery more difficult since it tends to invite contact from people who don’t actually have possession of the painting. As far as the public is concerned, the motive for Liddell’s murder remains a mystery.”
    “As it should be,” said Gabriel. “Besides, the last thing we need to advertise is that private restorers keep extremely valuable paintings under less than secure circumstances.”
    It was one of the art world’s many dirty secrets. Gabriel had always worked in isolation. But in New York and London, it was not unusual to enter the studio of an elite restorer to find tens of millions of dollars’ worth of paintings. If the auction season was approaching, the value of the inventory could be stratospheric.
    “Tell me more about the painting, Julian.”
    Isherwood glanced at Gabriel expectantly. “Does that mean you’ll do it?”
    “No, Julian. It just means I want to know more about the picture.”
    “Where would you like me to begin?”
    “The

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