The Rembrandt Affair

had returned to Cornwall.

PART ONE
    PROVENANCE

1
    GLASTONBURY, ENGLAND
    T hough the stranger did not know it, two disparate series of events were by that night already conspiring to lure him back onto the field of battle. One was being played out behind the locked doors of the world’s secret intelligence services while the other was the subject of a global media frenzy. The newspapers had dubbed it “the summer of theft,” the worst epidemic of art heists to sweep Europe in a generation. Across the Continent, priceless paintings were disappearing like postcards plucked from the rack of a sidewalk kiosk. The anguished masters of the art universe had professed shock over the rash of robberies, though the true professionals inside law enforcement admitted it was small wonder there were any paintings left to steal. “If you nail a hundred million dollars to a poorly guarded wall,” said one beleaguered official from Interpol, “it’s only a matter of time before a determined thief will try to walk away with it.”
    The brazenness of the criminals was matched only by their competence. That they were skilled was beyond question. But what the police admired most about their opponents was their iron discipline. There were no leaks, no signs of internal intrigue, and not a single demand for ransom—at least not a real one. The thieves stole often but selectively, never taking more than a single painting at a time. These were not amateurs looking for quick scores or organized crime figures looking for a source of underworld cash. These were art thieves in the purest sense. One weary detective predicted that in all likelihood the paintings taken that long, hot summer would be missing for years, if not decades. In fact, he added morosely, chances were extremely good they would find their way into the Museum of the Missing and never be seen by the public again.
    Even the police marveled at the variety of the thieves’ game. It was a bit like watching a great tennis player who could win on clay one week and grass the next. In June, the thieves recruited a disgruntled security guard at the Kunsthistorisches Museum in Vienna and carried out an overnight theft of Caravaggio’s David with the Head of Goliath . In July, they opted for a daring commando-style raid in Barcelona and relieved the Museu Picasso of Portrait of Señora Canals . Just one week later, the lovely Maisons à Fenouillet vanished so quietly from the walls of the Matisse Museum in Nice that bewildered French police wondered whether it had grown a pair of legs and walked out on its own. And then, on the last day of August, there was the textbook smash-and-grab job at the Courtauld Gallery in London that netted Self-Portrait with Bandaged Ear by Vincent van Gogh. Total time of the operation was a stunning ninety-seven seconds—even more impressive given the fact that one of the thieves had paused on the way out a second-floor window to make an obscene gesture toward Modigliani’s luscious Female Nude . By that evening, the surveillance video was required viewing on the Internet. It was, said the Courtauld’s distraught director, a fitting end to a perfectly dreadful summer.
    The thefts prompted a predictable round of finger-pointing over lax security at the world’s museums. The Times reported that a recent internal review at the Courtauld had strongly recommended moving the Van Gogh to a more secure location. The findings had been rejected, however, because the gallery’s director liked the painting exactly where it was. Not to be outdone, the Telegraph weighed in with an authoritative series on the financial woes affecting Britain’s great museums. It pointed out that the National Gallery and the Tate didn’t even bother to insure their collections, relying instead on security cameras and poorly paid guards to keep them safe. “We shouldn’t be asking ourselves how it is great works of art disappear from museum walls,” the renowned London art dealer Julian Isherwood told the newspaper. “Instead, we should be asking ourselves why it doesn’t happen more often. Little by little, our cultural heritage is being plundered.”
    The handful of museums with the resources to increase security rapidly did so while those living hand to mouth could only bar their doors and pray they were not next on the thieves’ list. But when September passed without another robbery, the art world breathed a collective sigh of relief and blithely reassured itself