Marko was silent for so long that Kadir thought he had hung up the phone. “That is unfortunate,” the Croatian finally said. “I saw the news report and am as confused as you are. I’m afraid he put his trust in the wrong person. One I will soon deal with. Such a mistake won’t happen again. I’ll bet my life on it.”
“Why are you calling?”
“For confirmation, and to introduce myself. My uncle tried to expand too quickly and paid the price for it. I plan on streamlining the organization. I also intend to continue where Luka left off but believe smaller shipments are easier to manage. If you are willing to listen, I will do what it takes to make things right. I know what your taste in art is. Its procurement is my specialty. Spacing the jobs out over a longer period would be smarter. I know we can help each other. If we could meet, you will see that both of our organizations would benefit.”
Kadir heard his thoughts mirrored in this young man’s words. His legacy was still within reach. Best of all, he still may live to see the museum’s opening. As long as museums were soft targets and art was a prestigious object for the rich, it was a thieves’ paradise.
“I’m listening.”
71 Bucket List
September 25, 2018
Ivan Novak, now Dominique Strausburg, boarded a plane bound for Mexico City. He scratched at his fake beard, not yet accustomed to its presence. His normally long, bushy locks were now shaved down to a military-style buzz cut. Fat pads hidden under a Hawaiian T-shirt and Dockers completed his disguise.
Anyone who knew him personally would never recognize him in this getup.
Belize, his final destination, had always been on his bucket list. The warm climate and Mayan history appealed to him. And the cost of living was much lower than in Europe.
Ivan Novak still existed and was the owner of Gallery Novak, which his lawyers were already in the process of selling off—one gallery at a time since no one had enough capital to buy him out completely.
Dominique would live off the profits, funneled to him via a series of overseas banks and holding companies.
He was certain Marko Antic would take over his uncle’s role as family head as soon as Luka’s demise was confirmed. Ivan couldn’t imagine that the Turkish drug dealer would have let him live. He had to assume Marko would come after him—family honor would demand it.
Only after their plane was flying high over the Atlantic did Ivan have a chance to reflect on Luka’s probable demise. The intense joy and relief he had expected to feel had not yet arrived.
He could never forgive himself for suggesting his precious Marjana work for Luka. Nothing could bring his princess back, but at least the man who destroyed her life was gone. That was a small consolation. He hoped, in time, it would be enough.
72 Miracles Do Exist
September 25, 2018
As soon as Vincent was free, he and Zelda went out on the town to celebrate with a kofta and lots of beer. He had arranged a flight for them back to Amsterdam for the next afternoon. They would have to explain why they had arrived in Marmaris without first obtaining the proper visa, but Vincent was confident his contacts would ensure their safe passage home.
It was during their lunch that Vincent received a message that made him shout in glee.
“What is it?”
“Luka’s dead. And Marko has taken over.” He leaned back in his chair and kicked one leg over the other. “I would have liked to see him rot in jail, but I have a feeling he would have gotten out of it somehow. No, this is more fitting.”
“But Marko took over, so how can that make you happy?”
“Marko doesn’t appear to be as psychotic as his uncle. And according to one of my Croatian contacts, he’s not a bad painter, either. Maybe he’ll help modernize the organization. If he starts using a set crew, as I suspect he will for efficiency’s sake, it will be easier to track them and trace their thefts back to Marko’s organization.”
“I don’t understand. Wouldn’t it be better to roll it all up?”
“Don’t be so naïve, Zelda. Killing Luka is akin to cutting the head off Medusa. I’m certain other young upstarts see Luka’s death as their chance to make a move on the Antic family’s market share. It will probably get bloody until things settle down, but from what I hear, Marko will be a capable replacement. And one who is more concerned about the bottom line than torturing people into working for him. Who knows, he might even get a few of the other crime families to work with him instead of competing against each other.”
Zelda rolled her eyes. She’d rather be naïve than as hardened as Vincent.
“Hey, did you see the latest Art Investigator blog? Nik is even more cynical than I am.”
“Gosh, I totally forgot to check.” Zelda hadn’t thought about the blogger since they went to Clervaux. It seemed like a lifetime ago, though it had only been a few days. Vincent handed her his phone, its browser already open to Nik’s latest post.
Miracles Do Exist
Well, folks, I stand corrected. Miracles do exist. The artwork stolen by Robber Hood has been returned. I cannot emphasize enough how exceedingly rare this is. Our nation’s museums should consider themselves lucky.
But do they deserve to have the artwork returned?
Robber Hood raised valid points about our museums and their protection. What have our politicians done to secure our artistic and cultural treasures of the past and present?
Telling a news reporter that you support more subsidies is quite different than introducing a bill to that end. So far, I haven’t seen much new happening in our parliament. And if a politician did introduce such a bill, where would the money come from?
Everyone wants to protect culture and the arts until they have to pay for it. It’s the same with education, emergency services, and healthcare.
And if by some miracle they do find the money, how exactly can museums best protect themselves from thieves? By turning themselves into fortresses?
I honestly don’t think this will be a problem we have to face because as much as politicians like to grandstand, I doubt any will have the guts to introduce such legislation.
No, I’m afraid the next Robber Hood gang is already making their preparations. As long as artwork fetches so much on the open market, it will be a commodity desirable by the criminal underworld and rogue collectors alike. As long as our museums are not better equipped to protect their collections, they will continue to be targets. And easy ones, to boot. And the cycle will continue…
As Zelda read his latest blog, she couldn’t help but agree with Nik’s pessimistic outlook. Not only did security cost buckets full of money with little to no return on investment but it was also difficult for organizations to agree on how best to protect their cultural treasures. It was a sad reality that this was a necessary debate, one with no foreseeable resolution.
73 Next Assignment
September 27, 2018
Zelda and Jacob sat on the Tolhuistuin’s terrace, enjoying the sunset lighting up the sky in shades of orange. From their table, they could see the city skyline, now a black silhouette. It was bliss to sit here quietly and enjoy the evening with Jacob. After she’d had a chance to fill him in on her trip to Venice and Turkey, he’d taken a week off work to be with her.
This morning, Gabriella had stopped by to apologize—to Zelda’s great relief. Despite Zelda’s stream of questions, the artist refused to tell her exactly what had happened or why. When she finally dared to ask about the Pollock, Gabriella left without saying where she was going. Zelda grabbed her friend as she fled and hugged her tight, knowing they would never cross paths again.
After dinner, she would pack a bag so she could ride with Jacob back to Cologne for a long weekend.
The police were still searching for Robber Hood, though not as intensely as before the artwork was recovered. As soon as all the art found in Nijmegen was verified as the originals, Zelda got her life back. Even though Gabriella refused to talk to the cops about what had happened, it prov
ed unnecessary. Vincent de Graaf had explained to several of his contacts on the Dutch force how Zelda helped recover the artwork. That was enough for the police and Julie Merriweather. The Amstel Modern welcomed her back with open arms, though Julie made a point of avoiding her. Zelda doubted the director would be willing to hire her again. Not that Zelda could blame Julie. Any museum director would prefer to distance themselves from a robbery, and her presence was a daily reminder of all that had gone wrong.
She did note that extensive security improvements were being planned, which were expected to be completed before the museum hosted a Frieda Kahlo exhibition in 2021. Julie had already recruited several local businesses to help fund part of the new system she envisioned.
“Did you finish your presentation?” Jacob asked.
Zelda’s university mentor, Marianne Smit, had called the day after she returned to Amsterdam with great news—her master thesis had been approved. All she had to do now was present it to a small group of interested museum professionals and fellow students.
“Yep, even the PowerPoint slides are in the correct order now. Can I make you my guinea pig later?”
Jacob took her hand and kissed her fingertips. “Anytime.”
“Excellent!” She leaned over the table and brushed his lips with hers. “I think the presentation is long enough, though—” Zelda’s ringing phone interrupted her. She was about to mute it when she noticed who was calling. “Oh, I’ve got to take this.” She stood up and answered the call. “Hi, Vincent. How are you doing?” They had touched base the day after returning from Turkey but hadn’t spoken since.
“Great, never better. My office in Split is a go.”
“Hey, congratulations!”
“Thanks. Opening a second office is the right move in the long run, but in the short term, I’ll need some extra help. I was calling to see if you would be interested?”
“You mean if I’d be interested in working for you? Yes, I am. What exactly do you need?” Zelda was thrilled he would consider hiring her to do anything. Although her university mentor had mentioned that a few assistant and junior curator positions would be opening up soon, all were part-time and temporary.
“Well, it wouldn’t be as glamorous or exciting as our last adventure together”—Vincent chuckled—“but I am looking to hire an office assistant and researcher for the Amsterdam office. It’s more about keeping the doors open and the phones manned. I get a lot of calls, though most are from those who can’t afford my services. I’ll also need your help with archival research for any local clients while I’m in Split. Though let me make clear that I will take care of any leads that need to be followed up in person. You’re not a detective and don’t have a license to investigate or a weapons permit. Your work would be concentrated on helping me follow paper trails and searching for documents.”
“Okay,” Zelda said slowly, not exactly enthusiastic about his proposal. But right now, work was work, and she had bills, groceries, and rent to pay. And who knew, Vincent had an incredible network. Perhaps one of his associates would know of a great job for her. “It sounds interesting. Yeah, I think it could be a good fit—at least temporarily.”
“Excellent. Glad to hear you’re interested. I’ve already got a job for you lined up. Huub Konijn told me about the research you’d done for the Amsterdam Museum and their collection of Nazi-looted art.”
“Oh, I hope he was positive,” she said with a gulp. Zelda hadn’t spoken with Huub since she left the Amsterdam Museum. Though they hadn’t seen eye to eye during her internship, he had proven to be a strong ally.
“Yes, quite positive. In fact, he convinced me to have you help us with a special case. Why don’t we meet up on Friday, and I’ll tell you more about it?”
“Could we make it next Tuesday? I’m heading to Cologne for a long weekend. Though I must admit, you’ve got my curiosity piqued. Could you give me a hint?”
“You know how you were asking about pro bono work? A friend of mine called in a favor. Actually, he’s a friend of both Huub and me. He’s searching for leads on a painting, and I promised to see what I could find in our local archives. Since I’m going to be busy opening the new office, that means I would like you to poke around for me.”
“Oh, that sounds mysterious. What will I be searching for?”
“A landscape by Johannes Vermeer. It was taken from our friend’s family during World War II and since then, he can’t find any trace of it—at least, not in the digital archives that he’s accessed. His daughter recently found a new lead, and he’s asked us to check it out for him. He’s hooked up to an oxygen tank and is wheelchair-bound, making a trip over here nearly impossible. Huub and I promised him we would take a look and see what we could find out.”
Zelda felt tingles of excitement coursing through her veins. “I can’t wait to get started.” Working for Vincent might not be so boring after all.
THE END
Thank you for reading my novel!
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Acknowledgments
I am deeply indebted to my husband for his support and encouragement while writing, researching, and editing this novel. My son also deserves a big kiss for putting up with me writing another book.
I am forever grateful to my beta readers, Philip and Janice, for their constructive criticism. My editors, Rogena Mitchell-Jones and Colleen Snibson, also deserve a huge round of applause for helping to make this novel shine.
This book was inspired by several newspaper and magazine articles as well as my own visits to several incredible modern art museums in the Netherlands. None of the institutions named exist—with the exception of Vianden Castle—though several real works of art held in Dutch museums did find their way into this novel.
According to Interpol, a gang of art thieves dubbed the ‘Balkan Bandits’ and ‘Pink Panthers’ is a loose association of approximately thirty to fifty robbers spread across Europe who steal art, jewelry, and antiques for criminal organizations based in the Balkans. Other sources estimate there are as many as 250 thieves active in their network. Centrally placed managers handle the thefts’ coordination and handovers. This gang is considered to be the most profitable and daring group of art thieves in the world.
Vincent de Graaf, the fictitious art detective in my novel, is loosely based on real-life art recovery experts working today—though Vincent is by no means a true representation of their profession. Marked for Revenge is, after all, a work of fiction. For those interested in learning more about the work of real art detectives, I highly recommend The Rescue Artist by Edward Dolnick. It’s a nonfiction account of Charles Hill’s recovery of Edvard Munch’s The Scream.
The Association for Research into Crimes against Art (ARCA) blog is an invaluable research tool for those interested in learning more about art thefts and forgeries. The Art Newspaper is also an excellent resource.
While writing this novel, a rather tasteless and cruel publicity stunt involving a treasure map and a forged Picasso made the Dutch national and international news, one I couldn’t resist including in my novel. You can read more about the ‘discovery’ of this fake Tête d’Arlequin by Pablo Picasso online.
The Netherlands is the only country in the world where a thief can eventually become the legal owner of stolen goods. The statute of limitations is thirty years when the art is stolen from a museum, public collection, or institution and registered as national cultural heritage. It’s only twenty years if the art is taken from a gallery, private house, or art fair. To learn more about this quite shortsighted piece of legislation, check out this article on Maastricht University’s website, Thief Becomes Owner.
Dutch artist Rob Scholte has publicly claimed that he and several successful artist friends were forced to forge artwork for the Italian mafia in exchange for stud
io space. Their fakes were then sold in a gallery owned by another friend in Amsterdam. When Scholte refused, he claims the mob placed a bomb under his car that blew off his legs.
For more information about drug smuggling and the Balkan Route, check out Europol’s website, in particular, the insightful EU Drug Markets Report: A Strategic Analysis.
Turkey is a fascinating country and well worth visiting. I was lucky enough to write all of the chapters set in Turkey while on vacation in Dalyan and Marmaris.
About the Author
Jennifer S. Alderson was born in San Francisco, raised in Seattle, and currently lives in Amsterdam. After traveling extensively around Asia, Oceania, and Central America, she moved to Darwin, Australia, before finally settling in the Netherlands. Her background in journalism, multimedia development, and art history enriches her novels. When not writing, she can be found in a museum, biking around Amsterdam, or enjoying a coffee along the canal while planning her next research trip.
Jennifer’s love of travel, art, and culture inspires her award-winning, internationally oriented mystery series—the Zelda Richardson Mystery Series—and standalone stories.
The Lover’s Portrait (Book One) is a suspenseful whodunit about Nazi-looted artwork that transports readers to WWII and present-day Amsterdam. Art, religion, and anthropology collide in Rituals of the Dead (Book Two), a thrilling artifact mystery set in Papua New Guinea and the Netherlands. Her pulse-pounding adventure set in the Netherlands, Croatia, Italy, and Turkey—Marked for Revenge (Book Three)—is a story about stolen art, the mafia, and a father’s vengeance.
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