“The vault is three meters underground,” he said. “Reinforced concrete, sixty centimeters thick. The door is a Diebold 4890. Thermal sensors, seismic sensors, and a motion grid that can detect a mouse’s heartbeat.”
Signora Ricci laughed and waved him through. grand theft
Lina smirked. “Poetic.”
“We want you to put the real Caravaggio back. Quietly. Tonight. And then we want you to disappear. Because the Duchessa’s will, which we have just read, contains a very interesting provision. The painting is to be donated to the Italian state upon her death. But if the painting is stolen—if it is discovered to be a forgery—the state will launch an investigation. They will find the fake. They will find your fingerprints, your accomplices, your trail. And the Duchessa’s family will lose everything. The palazzo, the land, the name. It will all be seized for tax fraud, which the family has been hiding for three generations.” “The vault is three meters underground,” he said
They met in a rented apartment overlooking the Piazza del Popolo. Rain streaked the windows. Viktor spread the blueprints across a table littered with espresso cups. Thermal sensors, seismic sensors, and a motion grid
“So what now?” Lina asked.