“That would entirely depend on a multitude of factors. You might say anywhere from straightaway—which is risky and reckless. But there are many in a cage or the grave who try that route. And up to a year.”
“A year? I don’t get it.”
“Which is why you’re not and never have been a successful and high-level thief, Lieutenant. You’d want authentication. Why take the trouble if they’re fake? You’d need time to assess the security and so on—the rhythm of the house and occupants in this case. Unless you plan to work solo, you’d need the broker, the thief, the client. If it’s an auction you’re after, that takes time to set up carefully. The accounts you’d need, the location that serves, the invitation list. If you don’t have the ready yourself or financial backing, you’d need to find it.”
“Because it all costs.”
“An investment of seventy-five, a hundred million wouldn’t be out of bounds here. Unless, again, you’re the risky and reckless sort. Then youmight make the grab well enough, you might have the Suite in hand. But now what the bloody hell do you do with it?”
“So the smart way is to set it all up first.”
“And go over every tiny, minute detail, with contingencies, alternates. This is no quick snatch of a handful of baubles. Six months to that year, though I’d consider the year on the long side.”
“How about eight, nine months?”
“It fits right in there, doesn’t it now? Would this relate to your unknown blonde with the smirk?”
“Yeah. Confirmed she visited Henry, stayed at Barrister House last December. She’s stayed there before, shared the bedroom with the man old enough to be her great-grandfather on those stops. Yancy’s going to work with the staff on a picture later today.”
“I’d say this one knows how to play the long game, and would take the smart and careful route. For the time, the investment, she could walk away with up to four hundred million in profit. And more.”
“There’s more?”
“A reputation that would afford her an exceptional life and lifestyle. That’s my time, darling. I’ll be giving Feeney a hand later, but from the home lab so I can juggle in my own work.”
“Appreciated. I’m talking to the lawyer later, and may work at home after that. I’ll see you.”
“Good luck with the media.”
“Yeah, right.”
She gave herself thirty seconds to sulk over that, and might have taken thirty more, but she heard the click of high-fashioned heels coming toward her office.
It didn’t surprise her when Nadine walked in on those heels.
“I brought you a brownie, and potentially some information.”
She could smell the damn chocolate, and chocolate would equal aboost either before or after the media. Even so, the potential information gave Nadine more of an entry.
“Give it.”
Nadine set the little bakery box on Eve’s desk, and her sharp reporter’s eyes arrowed toward the board. “Fancy Blonde?”
“You’re here to give info, not get it. I’m talking to your type in a little while.”
“And I’ll be there. What fancy blonde?”
“What info?”
“Fine. Can I get you coffee?”
Eve leaned back in her chair. “Fine.”
In her fashionable pumpkin-colored heels that matched the fashionable pumpkin-colored dress under a short suede jacket that reminded Eve of the vegetable strangely known as eggplant, Nadine programmed two coffees.
“I’ve been looking into the Royal Suite—on my own,” she added as she handed Eve her coffee. “That made one hell of a splash when it was stolen from the Tate.”
“I’m aware.”
