Marked for Revenge

by Jennifer S. Alderson

  In some ways, Luka didn’t care if the art dealer was copying the artwork. Ivan was getting close to retirement age, and Luka knew how much money his chain of galleries ate up. Luka was surprised his galleries had survived so long without the Antic family’s financial support. He could imagine it would be difficult for Ivan to pass up on such an opportunity.

  But would Ivan be smart enough to sell them abroad and long after Luka’s deal with Kadir was complete? That was the rub because without asking Ivan directly, he couldn’t be certain. And even then, the art dealer may lie to him.

  Luka could feel his blood pressure rising as he began fretting. Nothing could jeopardize his deal with the Turk. Should he interrogate Ivan now? If he did, there was a large chance the art dealer wouldn’t coordinate the final thefts or delivery of the stolen artwork. And if Ivan refused to cooperate, he wouldn’t have enough time to organize another string of robberies. No, until his artwork was in Turkey, he and his men had to leave the art dealer be.

  “Should I question Ivan?”

  “No, leave him alone,” the Croatian snapped. If Marko dropped by, no matter how innocent his questions were, the dealer might get suspicious. Yet this artist was a new player. Once Ivan picked up the pieces she’d collected, she would be unnecessary. Was it worth having Marko break into her apartment and get a better look at the painting on her easel? Luka quickly weighed the pros and cons, deciding to err on the side of caution. They knew nothing about this G person nor her patterns. They would have to wait and watch. Patience was always rewarded, not rash action.

  “The artist you mentioned. Follow her when you can, and familiarize yourself with her routines, but don’t question her—at least, not yet. We don’t want to spook her into alerting Ivan. If she does anything you deem suspicious, call me. But don’t forget that your jobs are your priority.” Marko had five more robberies to plan and pull off. Luka needed him to concentrate on those. They’d worked together enough times that Luka knew he could trust his nephew to make the right decision.

  “Yes, sir. No contact and surveillance only when time allows. Understood.”

  Luka hung up. He looked out again across the forest draped in moonlight, his thoughts now less jovial. All he could see were sinister shadows, toppled trees, and sickly branches. The smell of decay filled his nostrils. The beauty he had experienced minutes earlier was hard-pressed to find.

  15 Artnapping or Theft-on-demand?

  August 27, 2018

  “That doesn’t make any sense,” Julie Merriweather, the director of the Amstel Modern, said with an uncharacteristic frown. She felt haggard and knew she looked it. This exhibition was supposed to be the crowning glory of her first six months as director of the Amstel Modern, not end up as a police investigation. She quickly made eye contact with the insurance agent, curators, security personnel, and marketing team, all clustered around the museum’s largest conference table. She knew they were all looking to her to lead them, but she didn’t have a clue as to what to do first. In her fifteen years as a curator, she’d never worked at a museum that had been burgled.

  “I know, but that’s what they stole. One pencil and three oil sketches by Jackson Pollock, Franz Kline, Alexander Calder, and Hans Hofmann,” Berit, the senior curator, said with a shrug.

  “Well, that’s a small relief,” Julie responded. She could feel her shoulders relaxing automatically.

  Ruben Meyer, the bespectacled man representing the museum’s insurance provider, cleared his throat loudly.

  “We still have four missing pieces to contend with,” said Nora, the head of marketing and public relations, the whine in her tone making it clear she was shocked the others were reacting so casually.

  The insurance agent bobbed his head in agreement. “The works stolen were thankfully not the most expensive pieces in the exhibition, but they still have a combined worth of two million euros. And the museums and private collectors you loaned them from do consider this devastating news.”

  “Yes, of course. I don’t mean to downgrade the robbery. This is every museum’s nightmare.” Julie’s voice and face radiated genuine concern. “It’s just hard to fathom why any thief would leave the oils by Robert Motherwell, Mark Rothko, and Jasper Johns behind. Those three pieces alone are worth fifteen million euro. The thieves’ choices are, in my mind, quite surprising.”

  “Frankly, I don’t care if it was due to poor taste or a lack of knowledge, but I am glad they left the oils alone,” added Liam, the junior curator, slapping his hands on the table for emphasis. “All three are important pieces, but Johns’ Flag is one of his most iconic works. I can’t imagine the world losing access to it.”

  Berit rolled her eyes. Julie ignored Liam instead. The young curator loved to add drama to every meeting, and she had no desire to fuel it further.

  The insurance agent raised an eyebrow. “The thieves’ choices are curious. But to us, it doesn’t matter which pieces they stole. We want to do all we can to help get the artwork back.” Julie knew his proverbial ‘we’ referred to the museum’s insurance provider.

  “One way to do that is to figure out what the thieves’ motives are,” Ruben explained. “The fact that no one has demanded a ransom for the pieces’ return leads us to rule out artnapping. At least for now.”

  Julie knew a commonly used ploy by thieves was to steal artwork and then ransom it back to their owners. Most museums did everything in their power to keep such thefts and payouts out of the news, not only out of fear of losing sponsors but also to avoid encouraging other thieves to try the same trick. In this case, no one had contacted them directly, but the thieves had left a message behind. “And the Robber Hood card? They have some nerve robbing us and leaving a note with ‘your security needs improving’ on it,” Julie pressed. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they did demand a ransom of some sort. Otherwise, why let us know who took them?”

  Ruben shrugged his shoulders. “I know Robber Hood’s message indicates they are a group concerned about the protection of cultural heritage, but so far, they have not made any specific demands for the artworks’ return. Until they do, we cannot consider this an artnapping case.”

  Ruben continued, addressing the table, “What we do know is that four museums have been robbed in the last eight days, and in all the cases, the thieves stole several pieces of modern art, all valued at eight hundred thousand euros or less. Our assessment is that the more expensive oil paintings were not taken because they are listed in international art registers and, therefore, would be more difficult to sell.”

  Julie put her head in her hands. Ruben didn’t seem to notice, continuing his monologue in his dry, nasal voice.

  “Another theory is that this was a theft-on-demand, instigated by a rogue collector. Considering the eclectic selection and the high number of targets, we cannot rule out that possibility. And most of the pieces stolen are part of a museum’s permanent collection, which means they won’t ever come up for auction.”

  Julie’s stomach began to churn. She knew Ruben was paid to think of everything that could go wrong, but it was still depressing to hear it all spoken aloud.

  “When you combine this knowledge with the fact that police have identified one of the thieves as a member of an Eastern European criminal organization specializing in art theft, we are concerned that the mafia is involved. Whether they are stealing the art for a rogue collector or intend to use the artwork in an underworld transaction, we cannot say. No matter which scenario you choose, we are concerned the artwork will be moved out of the Netherlands and disappear in the Balkans long before the police capture the Robber Hood gang or figure out what their real motive is.”

  “Wait—what are you saying?” Julie asked. Her stomach shot a stream of acid up that took her breath away. She wasn’t sure if she was going to survive this next week without developing an ulcer. “You think the mob robbed our museum?”

  “Yes, we are beginning to believe so,” Ruben said.

  “Why?” Julie cried out.
Any robbery was bad, but if a criminal organization took the artwork, it was as good as gone. Just like my job, she thought.

  The insurance agent took her why literally. “Art crimes are the third most profitable crime committed by criminal organizations. Stolen artwork is often used as collateral for drug deals, money laundering, or arms dealing. Several of these Balkan-based groups forge them as well, selling off their copies to dealers or collectors as the real thing.”

  “I know all of that. I mean why do you think a member of a Balkan gang is involved?” Julie was exasperated. The police promised to keep her in the loop. “I spoke with Detective Prins of the Art and Antiquities Unit this morning. His team was still busy checking fingerprints pulled from the scene against those of our staff, as well as viewing all the video footage taken by security cameras in the vicinity. That’s how they were able to figure out how the thieves got away so quickly…”

  “I told you that canal was a security risk!” The museum’s head of security interrupted to scold the director.

  “The canal was there when I took the job, Aart.” Julie scowled at him until he bowed his head.

  “As I was saying… how could they know someone working for an Eastern European criminal organization was involved?” And not call me immediately, Julie added in her mind.

  “I called Detective Prins right before our meeting started, and he told me they just had a small breakthrough,” the insurance agent said. “He’ll relay the details to you later today.”

  Julie folded her hands on the table and breathed in deeply through her nose. “Why don’t you enlighten us?”

  Ruben shifted in his chair. “They found the scooters the thieves used to flee the scene. One had been reported stolen a few hours before the robbery. It was parked across the street from a convenience store. When the police checked the store’s surveillance footage, they discovered the robbery had been caught on camera and the thief’s face is clearly visible. They were able to match him to Marko Antic, a member of the Antic family, a criminal organization based out of Split, Croatia. Marko is a suspect in several art thefts in Switzerland, France, and Luxembourg, all most likely ordered by his family.”

  “And the Robber Hood card?” Julie pressed. “Why would the mafia leave a calling card behind?”

  “I agree. We need to find out more about this Robber Hood before we can make any assumptions as to the thieves’ identities or motives. A card has been left at every theft. All of the messages chastise the museums’ poor security, yet no one has contacted any of the institutions affected with demands for their return. There are similarities between these robberies and the theft of Edvard Munch’s The Scream in 1994. The thieves claimed to have stolen Munch’s work to raise awareness about the poor security of Norway’s museums. Ultimately, Norse police discovered the thieves had ties to the Eastern European mafia, as well.”

  Julie threw her hands up in the air. “Good God. Can it get any worse?”

  “Let’s hope not,” the insurance agent responded. Julie couldn’t tell if it was meant wryly or if Ruben was serious. “The police are actively pursuing the Robber Hood gang and a few forensic clues left behind during the robberies. However, I would like to bring in a local private investigator, Vincent de Graaf, to look into the Eastern European connection. He is an art recovery expert with a strong network of informants in the Balkans. If the Croatian mafia is involved, de Graaf will be able to find that out for us.”

  “Is it prudent to call him in if the police are still investigating?” Julie mused aloud.

  “I did ask Detective Prins’ permission to do so, which was why I contacted him earlier. When I told him about our suspicions, he agreed wholeheartedly. The Dutch police force just doesn’t have the resources to track down so many stolen pieces, especially if the artwork has already been transported out of the Netherlands.”

  “I don’t know…” Despite her reservations, Julie knew it was important to act swiftly. And if the insurance agent wanted to bring in a detective, so be it. It was just so extraordinary to think the mob might have robbed her museum. She was having trouble wrapping her head around the idea. Then again, she hadn’t slept since the break-in two days ago, and her mind was muddled. Even though she’d only been the director for six months, she had already decided the Amstel Modern was where she was going to leave her mark. Being a big fish in a little pond made it so much easier to make an enormous splash. New York and Los Angeles were filled with highly qualified professionals vying for the same fifteen minutes of fame. Here, she was a rising star, envied by many. Whatever happened, she had to do all she could to show the board of directors she was a woman of action. No matter what happened, she could not lose this job.

  Ruben’s watch started to beep. He turned it off and addressed the room once again. “I have another meeting to get to, so let’s wrap this up. Our position is this—whether the thieves stole this work for a gang or a rogue collector, we have to assume these paintings will disappear if we don’t find them soon,” Ruben said. Of course, if we are lucky, Robber Hood is a protest group, and after they’ve made their point, the art will be returned unharmed. However, we prefer to take a proactive approach and operate from a worst-case scenario. We want to get an art detective working on this case straightaway while the Dutch police continue following up local leads and connections. There are a few good ones based in Europe, but Vincent de Graaf has worked on several cases involving Balkan-based criminal organizations and has recovered many pieces. He has better connections to the Eastern European mafia than any of our in-house investigators.”

  Julie noticed a few heads nodding in recognition.

  Liam piped up, “I know him. In fact, I spoke with him at the opening. He helped my wife’s grandmother recover two paintings taken from her father during World War II. He’s good.”

  The insurance agent continued, “With Julie’s permission, I would like to contact him this afternoon and arrange a meeting.”

  “If we do meet with him, will you let us open our doors again?” Nora from marketing asked Ruben.

  Julie answered instead, “The police should be finished with their on-scene investigation this afternoon. A new glass pane will arrive tomorrow morning. I also have a team of cleaners on standby. Liam, Berit, once we get the okay, we will need to decide how to rearrange the remaining pieces to fill the walls better. We aren’t the Gardner Museum, so I’m not leaving empty frames up. I want as few reminders of the robbery as possible. I hope we’ll be able to reopen in three days.”

  “Some opening week,” Liam grumbled.

  Nora responded evenly, “No, it’s not ideal, but my department is doing all it can to spin this to our advantage. If anything, the robbery has raised our social media profile significantly. We’re getting ten times the amount of shares and likes that we normally do. I’m positive we will have an influx of lookie-loos once we reopen.”

  “Pretty expensive marketing campaign if you ask me,” Liam quipped.

  Julie wished he would give it a rest, just this once.

  “We’ll see what happens when we crunch the numbers at the end of the exhibition,” Nora stated without batting an eyelash.

  16 The Audacity of Art Thieves

  August 27, 2018

  Zelda rushed through her lunch, keeping chitchat to a minimum so she could spend a few minutes reading The Art Investigator—a new blog everyone in the Amstel Modern was talking about—before her next meeting started. Her coworkers were shocked by the blogger’s take on the recent spate of museum thefts in the Netherlands. Even though the mainstream media had reported on all four robberies, they had not connected them. Apparently, this blogger had proof they were linked.

  The buzz around the watercooler also speculated on the blogger’s profession, a man known only as Nik. Most figured it was someone with a high-level position in the Ministry of Culture while others thought he was a senior curator at a prestigious museum. A few suspected it was one of the Netherlands’ three art detectives. Whoever it wa
s, Nik was privy to information most of those who worked in the Amstel Modern were not.

  It didn’t help that the Amstel Modern’s director and department heads were being incredibly tight-lipped about the police’s investigation and any leads they may have. Rumors were already circulating about the message written on the Robber Hood card found at the scene, the same message the museum’s director refused to acknowledge. Just like her colleagues, Zelda was eager to know more about their museum’s theft and its possible connection to a more sinister complot.

  Zelda shoved the last bite of egg roll into her mouth and cleaned up after herself while chewing. She waved goodbye and dashed off before anyone could ask where she was going. Lunches and coffee pauses were sacred in the Dutch museum world, and it was not okay to rush back to work during officially sanctioned breaks. If too many people did that, their right to take so many might be revoked.

  Zelda plopped into her office chair and surfed to The Art Investigator blog. On the homepage was the latest post, entitled, “The Audacity of Art Thieves.”

  This week, four Dutch museums were robbed of nine works of art. That much you probably already knew from reading the mainstream media. What you may not know is that a group calling themselves Robber Hood organized all of the thefts.

  I now have confirmation from the burgled museums that small green cards were left at the scene of each crime. On one side ‘Robber Hood’ is printed in embossed gold letters. On the other side are these messages—‘Thanks for your poor security,’ ‘Too bad you can’t afford a better security system,’ ‘Protect what you love,’ and ‘Your security needs improving.’