Page 57 of Portrait of an Unknown Woman

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Galerie Fleury

The navigation application on Sarah’s phone estimated the driving time from Columbus Circle to Westport, Connecticut, to be ninety minutes. But Gabriel, behind the wheel of their rented European sedan, managed to cover the distance in a little more than an hour. Aiden Gallagher’s flashy BMW 7 Series was parked outside Equus Analytics, andA River Scene with Distant Windmills, adhered to a new stretcher, was lying on the examination table in the lab. Next to the painting was a two-page letter declaring the work to be a modern forgery. And next to the letter were three microscope photographs supporting Gallagher’s conclusion.

“To be honest, I was a little surprised it was so cut-and-dried. Given the quality of his brushwork, I expected more of him.” Gallagher pointed out the dark strands of polar fleece in the photographs. “It’s a real amateur’s mistake.”

“Is there any other possible explanation for the presence of those fibers?” asked Gabriel.

“None whatsoever. That said, you should be prepared for Fleury to take great offense at my findings.” Gallagher looked at Sarah. “In myexperience, most art dealers become rather indignant when asked to part with a million euros.”

“I’m quite confident Monsieur Fleury will see things our way. Especially when he reads your report.”

“When are you planning to confront him?”

“We’re leaving for Paris tonight. In fact,” said Sarah, glancing at her watch, “we need to be on our way.”

She made out a check for the final $25,000 of Gallagher’s fee while Gabriel removedA River Scene with Distant Windmillsfrom its stretcher and folded it into his carry-on bag. Their Air France flight commenced boarding at 6:45 p.m. At half past eight, they were over the East End of Long Island.

“There’s North Haven,” said Sarah, pointing out her window. “I actually think I can see Phillip’s house.”

“One wonders how he and Lindsay make do with only thirty thousand square feet.”

“You should see the place in the Adirondacks.” She lowered her voice. “I spent a long weekend there once.”

“Kayaking and hiking?”

“Among other things. Phillip has lots of toys.”

“He certainly didn’t keep the Van Dyck for long.”

“Some people flip houses. Phillip flips paintings.”

Sarah accepted a glass of champagne from the flight attendant and insisted that Gabriel take one as well.

“What shall we drink to?” he asked.

“A disaster averted.”

“I certainly hope so,” said Gabriel, and left his glass untouched.

It was a few minutes after nine the following morning when the plane dropped from a cloudless sky and settled onto the runway ofCharles de Gaulle Airport. After clearing passport control and customs, Gabriel and Sarah climbed into a taxi and headed for the center of Paris. Their first stop was Brasserie L’Alsace on the Avenue des Champs-Élysées, where, at 10:45 a.m., Gabriel placed his first call to Galerie Georges Fleury. It went unanswered, as did his second. But the third time he tried the number, Bruno the receptionist came on the line. Posing once again as Ludwig Ziegler, art adviser to the renowned Swiss violinist Anna Rolfe, Gabriel demanded to speak to Monsieur Fleury at once.

“I’m sorry, but Monsieur Fleury is with another client.”

“It is imperative that I see him immediately.”

“May I ask what this is regarding?”

“A River Scene with Distant Windmills.”

“Perhaps I can be of help.”

“I’m quite certain you can’t.”

The receptionist placed the call on hold. Two minutes passed before he came back on the line. “Monsieur Fleury will see you at two o’clock,” he said, and the connection went dead.

Which left Gabriel and Sarah with three long hours to kill. They drank coffee at Brasserie L’Alsace until noon, then walked up the Champs-Élysées to Fouquet’s for an unhurried lunch. Afterward, they crossed to the opposite side of the avenue and, with their luggage in tow, window-shopped their way to the rue la Boétie. It was two o’clock exactly when they arrived at Galerie Georges Fleury. Gabriel stretched his injured right hand toward the intercom, but the automatic lock snapped open before he could place his forefinger atop the call button. He heaved open the glass door and followed Sarah inside.