Page 34 of Gone Before Goodbye

Ragoravich’s “source of wealth” is listed as “metals.”

Vague enough?

“This isn’t Rublevka,” Maggie says to him.

“Pardon?”

“I was told I was going to Rublevka.”

“No, no. I mean, yes, that’s my main residence, but we thought it would be more comfortable and private at the Winter Palace. You like?”

She doesn’t know how to answer that, so she just gives a nod.

“You must be exhausted after such a long flight. Would you like to see your room or—?”

“I’d like to inspect the medical facilities right away.”

He grins. “You’re no-nonsense. I like that. Come. I’ll give you a tour on the way.”

Oleg has a walk that proudly leads with his protruding belly, his arms behind him, chin high, a little bounce in the step. They head down a wide corridor lined with oil paintings, some of which she recognizes. When Maggie hesitates as they pass one set, Oleg spreads his arms and says, “You recognize them, yes?”

She does. Three Rembrandts (A Lady and Gentleman in Black,Christ in the Storm on the Sea of Galilee,Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man), a Manet (Chez Tortoni), and of course the pièce de résistance, Johannes Vermeer’sThe Concert.

“Cute,” she says.

“How so?”

“Reproductions of the masterpieces stolen in the Gardner Museum heist.”

“Very good.” He looks pleased. “May I tell you a secret?”

She gives him a baleful eye. “You’re not going to tell me that they’re the real thing.”

“No, no,” he says. Then he leans toward her. “Well, except for one. I bought it from a Connecticut mobster five years ago.”

“So one is genuine,” she says, trying to keep her sarcastic tone to a minimum.

“Yes.”

“Which one?”

“I don’t tell.”

“Uh-huh, sure. So you could be pulling my leg.”

“I could be, yes.” He starts up again. “You’re a fan of art, no?”

“Truth? I’m more a fan of art heists.”

“True crime,” he says.

“Yes.”

Oleg is almost giddy as he stops by a closed door. A blank screen of some kind is mounted to the right of it. “I want to show you something. I think you will find it compelling.”

He sticks his face near the screen and stays still. Facial scan, Maggie assumes. She hears the click-click-click of a lock’s tumblers. Then a buzzing noise. Oleg grabs hold of the knob and pulls the door open.

Total darkness.