by Marie Astor
“But how’s that possible?” Janet asked. “And how did it end up in an obscure gallery in Antibes?”
“Monet’s painting has been painted over with a seascape to conceal it—it’s a common enough trick. The materials used for the cover-up painting are easy to remove and do not cause any damage to the underlying painting. In the past, painters often re-used their canvases and even though they didn’t care about preserving the underlying painting, in many instances the original painting could still be reconstructed in cases when it happened to be of greater value. My guess is that’s what gave art thieves the idea to use the same methodology. But I’m digressing here. The paint-over job was very well done by none other than Leonard Stevens. He’s an art student who works for one of the most notorious art thieves in the world—Armand Bassand.”
“But how did Monet’s painting end up in a small gallery in Antibes? And why did the gallery sell it to us?” Janet asked.
“The obscure art gallery in Antibes was the perfect venue for Bassand’s transaction with the buyer. It has been on our radar as a hub for questionable dealings before—it’s owner, Maurice Verdan, has a very shady reputation. He had several close encounters with local authorities, but he always managed to weasel his way out. We paid Verdan a visit in the beginning of our investigation, and many others of his kind, but even with our resources it’s impossible to have every shady dealer under constant surveillance. Lucky for us, you happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, or may I say, in the right place at the right time.” Agent Norris allowed himself a brief smile. “Had you walked in a few minutes later, Bassand’s intended buyer would’ve snatched the painting and it would be lost forever.”
Dennis whistled. “I’ll be damned. It’s a good thing we went to that gallery after all. Janet dragged me there. I just wanted to lounge on the beach.”
“Could you tell us again exactly what happened at the gallery where you bought this painting?” Agent Norris asked.
“Of course.” Janet proceeded to summarize their experience at the gallery. “And then that man, Leonard, trying to switch our bag at the airport . . . And the gallery itself was so funny—the clerk there wouldn’t let us in at first and then he got overly friendly. I thought it was just French eccentricity, but boy was I wrong. I thought the frame was unusual,” Janet added after she finished her story.
Agent Norris nodded. “Very perceptive of you. It is the original frame belonging to the painting.”
“It looked like a pretty gaudy thing to me. Agent Norris has a degree in art history,” Director Edwards pointed out.
“Thank you, Director Edwards. My guess is that the buyer wanted the frame and Bassand got too cavalier and left it in place.” Agent Norris paused.
“Who is this Armand Bassand you keep mentioning?” Dennis asked. “Sounds like he’s got a notorious reputation, but I must say this is the first time I’m hearing his name.”
“My apologies—this knowledge is specialized to the world of art theft,” Agent Norris explained. “Leonard Stevens works for the man called Armand Bassand—he is a notorious art thief with a gang of thieves working for him. To date, we are aware of twenty very prominent art thefts—hundreds of millions of dollars’ worth—that we suspect were perpetrated by Bassand’s gang. There are probably many more that we are not aware of. Unfortunately, none of these thefts have actually been proven. Bassand is very careful—he acts as a mastermind, but he never gets his own hands dirty. He has his peons for that. Bassand himself is very meticulous about his reputation and even makes donations to various museums and other art causes. He is held in high esteem in the art circles. At times he even acts as an expert to auction houses and galleries. There were several instances when his so called ‘consultations’ were followed by theft of the very art works he opined upon, but again, evidence was circumstantial and nothing tangible was ever proven. Bassand has residences all over the world, including Paris and New York. The international nature of his crimes make it that much more difficult to pin him down. Until now, evidence was always lacking.”
“So you think you can get Bassand now?” Janet asked excitedly.
“That depends,” Agent Norris replied.
“On what?” Ham asked.
“On whether your agency would be interested in partnering with us on this case,” Director Edwards answered the question.
“We’d be honored to, Gus, but what do we know about art? This is not exactly our area of expertise,” Ham added.
“About art—no less than I do. I assure you.” Director Edwards cracked a smile, but then his expression grew serious. “But you know plenty about thieves and we need your help. You’ll hear the full story in a minute from Leonard when we bring him in, but as things stand right now, Bassand thinks that Janet and Dennis are his competitors. He thinks they went to that shady gallery on purpose and masqueraded as his contact. And as we’ve held Leonard here overnight, it’s unlikely that Bassand knows anything more. But if we’re going to do this, we have to act quickly.”
“I have to ask my team first,” Ham said firmly. “We’ve never worked a case like this before. Janet, Dennis, what are your thoughts on this?”
“We’re in,” they both replied in unison and Janet had a hard time keeping a straight face—the longer they knew each other, the more their minds worked in sync.
“Great. We’ll bring in Leonard,” said Director Edwards. “Agent Norris, would you do the honors?”
“Of course, sir.” Agent Norris got up from his chair and left the room.
“How about that coffee after all?” offered Director Edwards. “Come to think of it, I could use a Danish also.” He buzzed in his assistant and asked her to order refreshments from a local deli.
Several moments later the conference room door opened and Agent Norris ushered Leonard Stevens into the room. His head lowered, Leonard took a seat in the spot that Agent Norris indicated to him.
“Agent Norris, do we really need handcuffs?” Director Edwards asked. “I say we’re all among friends—please make Mr. Stevens comfortable.”
“You’re no friends of mine,” Leonard spat. “You’re going to get me killed, killed I tell you!”
“Leonard, please calm down. There’s no need to get all worked up. No one is going to harm you if you agree to cooperate with us. As we’ve explained to you, you will be provided protection,” Director Edwards said calmly.
Leonard smirked. “A lot of good it will do me. You couldn’t get within ten miles of Bassand until you got me. Bassand was right—I should’ve just stuck to painting.”
“Yes you should’ve, Leonard. And not for criminal masterminds either, but in a real job,” Director Edwards added.
“Easy for you to say!” Leonard retorted. “Do you know what the job market is like for art majors? I’ll tell you—it’s nonexistent. I thought I’d work for a restoration department at the Metropolitan Museum of Art or MOMA or the Brooklyn Museum, at worst, and paint in the evenings until my career takes off. Well, apparently so did every Tom, Dick, and Harry who was foolish enough to major in art. Forget the restoration department. I couldn’t even get a job as a security guard at the Metropolitan, which I applied for after I got turned down for secretary jobs. Who wants a male secretary, I ask you?”
Agent Norris’ eyebrows formed a solid line across his forehead. “Mr. Stevens, please calm down. Now, let’s get to the matter at hand—”
“How was I supposed to pay off my student loans? And pay the rent and buy food?” Leonard continued, far from calming down. “It’s easy for you to judge! You’re not tormented by artistic genius. You probably dreamed of being FBI agents your whole lives.”
An indulgent smile played on Director Edwards’ face. “But that is the life of the artist—you assume a life of hardship for the sake of your art. And, Leonard, I assure you, neither I nor Agent Norris dreamed of working for the bureau when we were kids. But enough about that. Let’s talk about how we can help each other.”
&nb
sp; “You and your smooth talk. Playing your good cop, bad cop routine to get me to do what you want. I already fell for that when talking to these two.” Leonard pointed at Dennis and Janet.
“Very well, Mr. Stevens. If you prefer it, we can get right to the point. You’ve gotten yourself into quite a predicament. You have recently perpetrated two break-ins. And you have participated in the theft of a work of art that is worth millions of dollars and was being searched for by enforcement agencies all over the world. Do you really want to take your chances in court with this fact pattern?” Director Edwards steepled his fingers and looked at Leonard expectantly.
“I would if I had a lawyer,” Leonard bristled. “Of course you know that I can’t afford one.”
“Mr. Stevens, as you know, you will be provided with a lawyer even if you can’t afford one,” Director Edwards continued. “However, my guess is that even the best of lawyers would have a hard time building a plausible defense with such heavy evidence stacked up against you.”
Leonard hung his head. “I knew it. Bassand warned me about this bait and switch talk. He said if you ever get caught, don’t ever make deals with the government. He was right. I should have listened to him and kept my mouth shut like the others. He promised to get me out of hot water if anything went wrong.”
Agent Norris gave a low chuckle. “Last time I checked Bassand never got anyone out of hot water. Any time there’s even the slightest shadow over his associates, he cuts all ties. Looks like you didn’t do your research, Leonard.”
“Stop trying to scare me!” Leonard cowered in his chair. “Whatever it is you’ll do to me, Bassand will do far worse.”
“No wonder no one ever testifies against Bassand.” Director Edwards narrowed his eyes, his glance fixed on Leonard. “Leonard, listen to me, Bassand gave you advice that would benefit him, not you. You did the right thing by being forthcoming with us. This is your only chance to come out of all of this unscathed.”
“But you have the painting now. I told you everything I know about Bassand. What more do you want from me?” Leonard sounded like a scared dog.
“I know it’s not easy, but we need you to help us entrap Bassand,” Director Edwards explained. “We need your help to get evidence against him. If you help us, you will be given immunity from prosecution.”
“Even if you don’t get Bassand?” Leonard asked timidly.
“We will get him,” Agent Norris assured him.
“But what if you don’t? What if I do everything to lead you to him and you mess up?” Leonard pressed.
“Then you’ll still get the deal,” said Director Edwards. “But I promise you, Leonard, we will not mess up. However, if you try to do anything funny like tipping off Bassand or sabotaging this operation in any way, the deal is off and you will be prosecuted to the full extent for the crimes that you’ve committed. Do I make myself clear?”
“Perfectly clear. Then we have a deal,” Leonard said. “I never liked that snooty bastard Bassand anyway.”
“Good.” A quick smile flashed on Director Edwards’ face. “Starting now, you will be reporting to Agent Norris daily on the status of your progress. In addition, Janet and Dennis will be your colleagues in this investigation. You are to think of them as your supervisors and follow their instructions at all times, as they will get their directions from us.”
Leonard nodded. “Fine. When do we start?”
“Tonight,” Agent Norris took over. “We need you to introduce Janet and Dennis to Bassand. As you have indicated to us, Bassand thinks of them as his competitors and that is the impression that we want you to maintain so that Janet and Dennis can get closer to Bassand. You are to take them to your meeting with Bassand tonight—”
“Woah!” Leonard looked as though he had been asked to climb Mount Everest in his underwear or some other equally improbable task. “This is not what I signed up for—”
“I’ve had enough of this—” Director Edwards snapped. “This is exactly what you signed up for, Leonard. However, if you’re having second thoughts, you’re free to try your luck in court and await trial in one of our detention facilities.”
“But Bassand will never buy into it—just look at them!” Leonard gestured deprecatingly at Janet and Dennis. “Do these two look like art thieves to you? Look at the way they dress—no sense of style or panache.”
“What’s wrong with the way we dress?” Janet asked, insulted in spite of herself. “It seemed to work just fine at Maurice’s gallery.”
Leonard opened his mouth to respond, but shut it promptly seeing the look on Dennis’s face.
“Enough with the personal insults,” Dennis warned him. “You don’t get to comment on my wife’s appearance. And just because my clothes aren’t skin-tight doesn’t mean I don’t have a sense of style. I’ll have you know that we have worked our share of undercover cases and all of them were solved successfully.”
Leonard scoffed. “Masquerading as lumberjacks maybe, but I doubt you were ever involved in an operation as refined as we’re about to undertake—”
“You’re not going to undertake anything,” Dennis seethed. “Agent Norris is in charge of this investigation and he must have sufficient faith in its success to sanction it.”
“Huh! I can see big, fat failure splattered all over,” Leonard sneered. “It’s one thing to fool senile Maurice, it’s another to convince Bassand. He’ll never buy it—”
“And it’s your job, Leonard, to convince him,” Agent Norris said firmly. “The bureau doesn’t give out immunity deals to just anyone, you know. Your intel will give us an extra edge, but the bureau also has amassed a significant amount of information on Bassand, and I am going to share it with you to increase our chances of success.” Agent Norris patted this thick binder on the table next to him. “Now, I’m going to outline the rest of our plan. We have until your meeting with Bassand tonight to work out all the details.”
Chapter 8
It was seven p.m. and Janet and Dennis were back in their apartment, getting ready for their meeting with Armand Bassand. Janet had shooed Dennis into the living room and took over the bedroom to get dressed. But before she donned the slinky number she planned to wear, she had to put on her makeup.
She sat behind the small vanity table that was wedged between the bed and the chest of drawers and eyed her reflection in the mirror. She looked pale and there were dark circles under her eyes. The sleepless night, followed by the jam-packed day was starting to take a toll on her, but beauty rest wasn’t an option, so she would just have to improvise. Usually, she only wore a dusting of powder, a little mascara, and lip gloss, but tonight would require much more than that. She eyed the model’s face on the cover of Vogue she was going to use as her guide and got to work. She dabbed concealer under her eyes and continued with a generous application of foundation to her face, and then followed with blush to contour her cheekbones. Then she added eye shadow to her eyelids, applied several generous coats of mascara to her lashes, and finished off with dark red lip liner and lipstick. She checked her reflection—the sultry vixen in the mirror didn’t look anything like her, but that was supposed to be the point.
“What do you think, Baxter?” Janet turned to face Baxter who had been sitting patiently on the floor in the corner the entire time and watching her curiously.
Baxter barked several times and covered his nose with his paw in what seemed like a sign of disapproval.
“You don’t like it?” Janet asked. “Too bad. I’m sticking with it.”
Baxter barked again and covered his muzzle with his paw.
“Save it buddy. The makeup stays.”
And now for the outfit, Janet thought as she opened the closet door and reached for the dress she’d planned on wearing—a black spandex bandage sheath with lace insets. Sexy, yet sophisticated—at least that was the spiel the sales lady gave her when she talked Janet into buying it. She’d gotten it on sale at Saks almost a year ago and it still had the tag on. She’d been lured b
y the discounted price, but the dress wasn’t really her style, which made it perfect for the meeting with Bassand.
Baxter got up on his paws and trotted over to Janet. He sniffed at the dress curiously and was about to try it out with his teeth when she lifted it away from his reach and put it on the bed.
“Out with you.” She scooped up Baxter into her arms and put him on the floor just outside the bedroom. “Go, keep Dennis company.” She closed the door behind her. For a few moments there was light scratching and barking, but then she heard Baxter run obediently into the living room.
Janet took the dress off the hanger and tried to put it on, but it was tough going. Then she remembered the sales lady’s instructions—one must never forget the undergarments. The dress was so fitted, a girdle was a must, which Janet had been talked into buying along with the dress and which had stayed in her underwear drawer unused ever since. She rummaged through the drawer, trying to locate the undergarment in question. Several moments later she triumphantly fished it out. At least it wasn’t the dowdy flesh-tone kind, but a sexy, lacey model.
Janet stared at the tiny bodysuit—the thing looked like it was made for a doll, but then the sales lady had assured her that it would stretch. Tentatively, Janet put her legs, one after the other, through the openings. “Success so far,” she muttered, as she tried to wriggle in the rest of her body. She grunted, pulling at the tight fabric, praying it wouldn’t rip.
