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“Ripples?” I looked at Jack, who was looking at Reuben. “I still don’t get it.”
Jack sighed. “Whispers. Hints at what’s coming. It’s not like the kind of intel you get for an op or when you need to take out a target. That intel is based on facts, location, data. This is more subtle. More people talking about the piece. Increased chatter on the dark web in places where the people capable of stealing the piece hide out, crews meeting up. Nothing specific, just?—”
I cut him off. “Whispers.”
“Exactly.” Reuben smiled ruefully.
“So if all we have to go on are whispers, then what are Jack and I doing here?”
Jack rolled his eyes like I was an idiot. I hated when he did that. My molars ground together, and I missed the first part of what Reuben said next.
“Whispers can be very informative.” Amanda pushed the stack of folders next to her across the table to Reuben, who flipped open the top one.
“We’ve combed the information we’ve received for patterns, and we’ve narrowed it down to three people we think are the most likely to have the painting.”
“But you don’t know for sure?” I didn’t like where this was going. I liked knowing exactly what I was up against, but even as impulsive as I was, going in on a hunch felt like the beginning of a wild goose chase. We needed to figure out if the painting was going to resurface and where and when. The thing that worried me was that if Reuben was operating on whispers, who else was?And were they whispering about my grandmother? If whoever was looking for the painting was also looking for Felix’s file that had a comprehensive list of names of everyone who’d ever been interested in and capable of stealing the painting, then it stood to reason she was going to be someone’s target.
“No, but I feel confident you’ll be able to find the proof needed.” Reuben tapped his palm on the files.
Before I could ask what he meant, Jack shot me a glare, and I snapped my mouth closed, teeth grinding again. “Who’s on your list?”
Reuben slid Jack the file, and he pursed his lips as he read.
Amanda leaned forward, looking down at the file Jack was perusing. “I wouldn’t have thought Azzura would make the cut, but you were right, Jack. She’s got something going on. It’s the only way to explain why she’s returned to Venice.”
Jack passed the file to me, and I gave it a quick once-over. Azzura Scivolo. Mink shifter. Age sixty-nine. Most active during the late 1990s and early 2000s, which we’d discovered through Felix’s research corresponded with the last time the painting was rumored to have been stolen. The picture attached to the file showed a lovely woman with long dark hair and dark eyes. Her features were sharp but in a refined way that made me think of old money. If I hadn’t read her date of birth and done the quick mental math to assess her age, I would never have guessed she was nearly seventy.
“This says she lives outside London.”
“Yes, but she is Italian, from Venice. She was technically banned from the city after she was accused of stealing a Rodin bust from the Ca’ Pesaro International Gallery of Modern Art. They could never prove it was her, but they couldn’t disprove it either, so the ban has remained in effect. As far as we know, none of her family is still living in the area, but Jack discovered through a contact he’d connected with while extracting Amandafrom Amsterdam that she had returned to her hometown, and she’s been rumored to have been in contact with some members of her old crew. If the authorities learn she is back in the city, she will be arrested.” Reuben patted Jack’s arm before continuing. “There are only a handful of reasons she would risk returning to Venice, and the painting is one of them.”
“Does that mean she’s going to make a move for it in Venice or that she’s trying to offload it in Venice?” So far, everything Reuben had said felt like conjecture to me, and I wanted something at least a little more concrete to go on.
Amanda shook her head. “We don’t know, but she’s got to be back in Venice for a reason.”
“It’s worth making the trip to see why she’s back. The timing feels suspicious.” Reuben held out his hand for Scivolo’s file, and I passed it back to him.
I could think of a ton of reasons why she could have returned to her hometown that had nothing to do with the painting, but I could also tell there was going to be no persuading Reuben to take her off the list even though all we had linking her to the painting was a hunch. I made a mental note to call Felix to see if he could get us anything more concrete.
“Vlk Mazal is another possibility. He’s been organizing covert shipments out of Prague to Bratislava in Czechia. No one has been able to find out exactly what he’s moving.”
Jack took the file from Reuben, glanced at it, and passed it to me. The picture of an older man was the first thing that caught my eye.
“No offense, but both this guy and the Italian lady are in their sixties. This says Mazal hasn’t been connected to an art heist in over fifteen years. Are you really telling me they are going to get back in the game for this painting?”
Reuben’s face took on a sort of soft quality like he was lost in nostalgia. “You don’t understand. Back in the heyday, thispainting was every shifter thief’s brass ring. Everyone wanted it to prove they were the best, that they could do something no one else had been able to do, that they could find and steal one of the most sought-after treasures in the shifter art world. Even if we weren’t actively searching for it, we were all strategizing how we would go about finding it and what we would do with it when we did. Some of us were obsessed. The three people on our list and your grandmother were more obsessed than most. It’s the kind of obsession that doesn’t just go away. I never wanted it as much as the others, but if I had a chance to see the piece today, that might be enough.”
I didn’t like the casual way Reuben had thrown my grandmother into the mix with the targets he was laying out for Jack and me. Something felt off about all of this, and I didn’t like it. I was getting the sense that I wasn’t being fully read in on everything there was to know about this op. Taking a breath to get my head back in the game, I closed the file and slid it across the table to Reuben, who stacked it on top of the previous file, and opened the third.
“The last person we think could have the painting is Stefan Dasselaar, and to your earlier point, he’s a little younger. He inherited his obsession from his older brother, who died several years ago. Stefan used to work with Hendrik, and he’s still active with his own crew, even if he does more of the logistical planning and financial backing than the actual fieldwork.” This time, Reuben handed me the file first.
Dasselaar was younger, in his midfifties, with a strong jawline and prominent nose. His hair was dark with a single wide stripe of white at the front, and his eyes were small and dark. The image captured him midsneer, and to be honest, he looked like a rich asshole.
I pushed the file to Jack, who spent a long minute studying it.
“In my opinion, Stefan is the most likely to have the painting.” Amanda’s voice pulled my attention away from studying Jack as he studied the file.
“Why do you think so?” I asked the question, knowing I probably wouldn’t like the answer.
