explain, but his wife was waiting.
“Make it fast,” he said.
I did.
“I have so much work on my desk,” Harry said. “I think I’ll take a look into this anyway.”
“How much juice do you think a Foreign Service specialist working in a shit hole like Bosnia has?”
“That depends on his boss.”
“His boss is the secretary of state.”
“I’ll get back to you.”
“You’re a peach, Harry. Give your wife my love.”
“Hell no.”
* * *
I returned to the kitchen table and finished my coffee. I liked it so much that I had another mug, this one laced with Irish whiskey. And then another. That and the two ales I had earlier weren’t nearly enough to make me drunk, but they did give me an excuse for what I did next. I called Mr. Donatucci.
“Have you heard from the artnappers?” I asked.
“Nothing yet. Why do you ask?”
“You said you could set up a meeting with someone who could give me tips on how to authenticate the Lily. Can you still do that?”
“You’re going for the Lily after all,” Donatucci said. It wasn’t a question.
“Yes.”
“What changed your mind?”
“Peer pressure.”
SIX
Perrin Stewart punched a code into a keypad and hit ENTER. Nothing happened.
“I hate these things,” she said.
“Patrick Tarpley didn’t have any trouble,” I said.
Perrin gave me a hard look and cursed softly—some people don’t appreciate sarcasm. She tried again. This time a tiny green light blinked on top of the keypad, followed by a metallic sound as the door unlocked. She held the door open until I passed through, then closed it tightly behind her. Her heels made a tick-tock sound that echoed off the white walls, white ceiling, and white tile floor of the brightly lit corridor, and I didn’t know which I wanted more, earplugs or sunglasses.
“I’ve seen hospital operating rooms with less light,” I said.
“It’s all environmentally responsible, too,” Perrin said. “We earned a LEED Gold designation for the building design. That was partly my doing. I saw it not only as a matter of reducing our carbon footprint but also of saving money. Our energy bills are a third of a typical building this size.”
“I need to ask a question that might offend you.”
“All right.”
“How sure are you of your people?”
“If you’d asked me last week, I would have vouched for all of them. Now … Why do you ask?”
“There’s a leak. Maybe more than one. There are people who seem to know my every move in this matter even before I do. I think they’re getting intel from someone within your building.”
Perrin suddenly stopped walking and leaned back against the wall of the corridor. Her head was bent toward the floor, so I couldn’t see her face, but the sound of her voice told me what I could easily have guessed—this had not been the best week of her life, and it was probably going to get worse.
“I no longer trust the people around me,” she said.
“I can appreciate that. You look up sometimes and discover that life has you surrounded and there’s no way out unless you’re willing to accept casualties.”
Perrin snickered at that. “Yeah,” she said. “Yeah. That’s one way of looking at it. McKenzie, I haven’t thanked you for changing your mind about the Lily.”
“Yes, you did.”
Perrin shook her head. “All of my life I wanted to do this, run a truly great art museum,” she said. “City of Lakes isn’t great. Not yet. If you take a small, unknown museum and make it a bigger, better-known museum, though, the biggest, best-known museums take notice and … You know how it works.”
“Sure.”
“I have a master’s degree in art history. I have a bachelor’s degree in museum studies. I’ve studied marketing, public relations, fund-raising, and business administration to get here. I have over a hundred and thirty thousand dollars in student loans to pay off. I don’t care. I make only twelve hundred a week. I don’t care. I
“Make it fast,” he said.
I did.
“I have so much work on my desk,” Harry said. “I think I’ll take a look into this anyway.”
“How much juice do you think a Foreign Service specialist working in a shit hole like Bosnia has?”
“That depends on his boss.”
“His boss is the secretary of state.”
“I’ll get back to you.”
“You’re a peach, Harry. Give your wife my love.”
“Hell no.”
* * *
I returned to the kitchen table and finished my coffee. I liked it so much that I had another mug, this one laced with Irish whiskey. And then another. That and the two ales I had earlier weren’t nearly enough to make me drunk, but they did give me an excuse for what I did next. I called Mr. Donatucci.
“Have you heard from the artnappers?” I asked.
“Nothing yet. Why do you ask?”
“You said you could set up a meeting with someone who could give me tips on how to authenticate the Lily. Can you still do that?”
“You’re going for the Lily after all,” Donatucci said. It wasn’t a question.
“Yes.”
“What changed your mind?”
“Peer pressure.”
SIX
Perrin Stewart punched a code into a keypad and hit ENTER. Nothing happened.
“I hate these things,” she said.
“Patrick Tarpley didn’t have any trouble,” I said.
Perrin gave me a hard look and cursed softly—some people don’t appreciate sarcasm. She tried again. This time a tiny green light blinked on top of the keypad, followed by a metallic sound as the door unlocked. She held the door open until I passed through, then closed it tightly behind her. Her heels made a tick-tock sound that echoed off the white walls, white ceiling, and white tile floor of the brightly lit corridor, and I didn’t know which I wanted more, earplugs or sunglasses.
“I’ve seen hospital operating rooms with less light,” I said.
“It’s all environmentally responsible, too,” Perrin said. “We earned a LEED Gold designation for the building design. That was partly my doing. I saw it not only as a matter of reducing our carbon footprint but also of saving money. Our energy bills are a third of a typical building this size.”
“I need to ask a question that might offend you.”
“All right.”
“How sure are you of your people?”
“If you’d asked me last week, I would have vouched for all of them. Now … Why do you ask?”
“There’s a leak. Maybe more than one. There are people who seem to know my every move in this matter even before I do. I think they’re getting intel from someone within your building.”
Perrin suddenly stopped walking and leaned back against the wall of the corridor. Her head was bent toward the floor, so I couldn’t see her face, but the sound of her voice told me what I could easily have guessed—this had not been the best week of her life, and it was probably going to get worse.
“I no longer trust the people around me,” she said.
“I can appreciate that. You look up sometimes and discover that life has you surrounded and there’s no way out unless you’re willing to accept casualties.”
Perrin snickered at that. “Yeah,” she said. “Yeah. That’s one way of looking at it. McKenzie, I haven’t thanked you for changing your mind about the Lily.”
“Yes, you did.”
Perrin shook her head. “All of my life I wanted to do this, run a truly great art museum,” she said. “City of Lakes isn’t great. Not yet. If you take a small, unknown museum and make it a bigger, better-known museum, though, the biggest, best-known museums take notice and … You know how it works.”
“Sure.”
“I have a master’s degree in art history. I have a bachelor’s degree in museum studies. I’ve studied marketing, public relations, fund-raising, and business administration to get here. I have over a hundred and thirty thousand dollars in student loans to pay off. I don’t care. I make only twelve hundred a week. I don’t care. I
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