payout.”
“Do you have any idea how many times I’ve heard that and then the opposite proved to be—”
“Are you accusing me of glossing over risk in our prior dealings?”
Letty realized with a jolt of panic that she’d insulted him. Not a wise course. Javier didn’t get angry. He just killed people. The stories she’d heard were the stuff of legend.
“I guess not.” She backtracked. “It’s just that I’ve been burned in the past. But not by you. You’ve always been on the level with me.”
“I’m glad you see that. So would you like to hear me out, or should I leave?”
“Please continue.”
“Fitch is spending his last days on his private island fifteen miles south of Key West. Most of his property has been lost to forfeiture to pay back the victims. However, I have a man in Fitch’s security detail. He tells me there’s something of great value at Fitch’s residence in the Keys.”
The waitress stopped at the booth and freshened up Letty’s coffee.
When she was gone, Letty stared across the table at Javier.
“Well, do I have to guess?” she asked.
He glanced around the restaurant as he reached into his leather jacket. The sheet of paper he pulled out had been folded. Javier slid it across the table. Letty pushed her plate aside and opened it.
She stared down at a painting printed in full color from a Wikipedia page—a skull with a burning cigarette in its mouth.
“What’s this?” Letty asked.
“ Skull with Burning Cigarette . You familiar with your post-Impressionists?”
“Not so much.”
“You don’t recognize the style?”
“I’m a thief, not an art collector.”
“But you have heard of Vincent Van Gogh…”
“Of course.”
“He painted this one in the mid- eighteen-eighties.”
“Good for him.”
“The original is hanging in Fitch’s office in the Keys.”
“Get to the good part.”
Letty managed to smile through her driving headache.
“When we discuss the value,” Javier said, “we’re talking about two numbers. First, what could we sell it for at auction? In nineteen-ninety, Van Gogh’s Portrait of Doctor Gachet sold for eighty million. In adjusted dollars, that’s a hundred and forty.”
Letty felt something catch inside her chest. It was a strange sensation, like being dealt four aces. She fought to maintain her poker face.
“You said there were two numbers?” she asked.
“Obviously, we can’t just steal this painting and put it up for a public auction through Sotheby’s.”
“Black market?”
“I already have a buyer.”
“How much?”
“Fifteen million.”
“What did Fitch pay for it?”
“Doesn’t matter. We’re selling it for fifteen. You’re rolling your eyes over fifteen mil? Really?”
“I just think we can—”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about. Look at me.” She looked at him. “You don’t know me well. But from what you do know, do you honestly believe I would broker a deal for anything less than the most favorable payout to me? To my crew?”
When she didn’t respond right away, he continued, “The answer you’re looking for is ‘no.’ That should leave you with one question.”
“What’s my cut?”
“Two.”
It was more money than Letty had ever imagined acquiring in a lifetime of theft, but she forced herself to shake her head. Strictly on principle of not accepting a first offer, if nothing else.
“No?” Javier seemed amused. “Two isn’t a fair cut for a tweaker?”
“That’s not even fifteen percent of the take, Jav.”
“You think it’s just you and me on this deal? That there aren’t some other people I have to pay of f ? You wouldn’t even have this opportunity without me. Sounds like you’d be living in a box somewhere.”
“Why do you need me? Why not have your guy on the inside handle this?”
“That was the initial plan, but he was let go last week.”
“Why?”
“Nothing related to this.”
“So you had a man on the inside.”
“This
“Do you have any idea how many times I’ve heard that and then the opposite proved to be—”
“Are you accusing me of glossing over risk in our prior dealings?”
Letty realized with a jolt of panic that she’d insulted him. Not a wise course. Javier didn’t get angry. He just killed people. The stories she’d heard were the stuff of legend.
“I guess not.” She backtracked. “It’s just that I’ve been burned in the past. But not by you. You’ve always been on the level with me.”
“I’m glad you see that. So would you like to hear me out, or should I leave?”
“Please continue.”
“Fitch is spending his last days on his private island fifteen miles south of Key West. Most of his property has been lost to forfeiture to pay back the victims. However, I have a man in Fitch’s security detail. He tells me there’s something of great value at Fitch’s residence in the Keys.”
The waitress stopped at the booth and freshened up Letty’s coffee.
When she was gone, Letty stared across the table at Javier.
“Well, do I have to guess?” she asked.
He glanced around the restaurant as he reached into his leather jacket. The sheet of paper he pulled out had been folded. Javier slid it across the table. Letty pushed her plate aside and opened it.
She stared down at a painting printed in full color from a Wikipedia page—a skull with a burning cigarette in its mouth.
“What’s this?” Letty asked.
“ Skull with Burning Cigarette . You familiar with your post-Impressionists?”
“Not so much.”
“You don’t recognize the style?”
“I’m a thief, not an art collector.”
“But you have heard of Vincent Van Gogh…”
“Of course.”
“He painted this one in the mid- eighteen-eighties.”
“Good for him.”
“The original is hanging in Fitch’s office in the Keys.”
“Get to the good part.”
Letty managed to smile through her driving headache.
“When we discuss the value,” Javier said, “we’re talking about two numbers. First, what could we sell it for at auction? In nineteen-ninety, Van Gogh’s Portrait of Doctor Gachet sold for eighty million. In adjusted dollars, that’s a hundred and forty.”
Letty felt something catch inside her chest. It was a strange sensation, like being dealt four aces. She fought to maintain her poker face.
“You said there were two numbers?” she asked.
“Obviously, we can’t just steal this painting and put it up for a public auction through Sotheby’s.”
“Black market?”
“I already have a buyer.”
“How much?”
“Fifteen million.”
“What did Fitch pay for it?”
“Doesn’t matter. We’re selling it for fifteen. You’re rolling your eyes over fifteen mil? Really?”
“I just think we can—”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about. Look at me.” She looked at him. “You don’t know me well. But from what you do know, do you honestly believe I would broker a deal for anything less than the most favorable payout to me? To my crew?”
When she didn’t respond right away, he continued, “The answer you’re looking for is ‘no.’ That should leave you with one question.”
“What’s my cut?”
“Two.”
It was more money than Letty had ever imagined acquiring in a lifetime of theft, but she forced herself to shake her head. Strictly on principle of not accepting a first offer, if nothing else.
“No?” Javier seemed amused. “Two isn’t a fair cut for a tweaker?”
“That’s not even fifteen percent of the take, Jav.”
“You think it’s just you and me on this deal? That there aren’t some other people I have to pay of f ? You wouldn’t even have this opportunity without me. Sounds like you’d be living in a box somewhere.”
“Why do you need me? Why not have your guy on the inside handle this?”
“That was the initial plan, but he was let go last week.”
“Why?”
“Nothing related to this.”
“So you had a man on the inside.”
“This
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