The Dreamer

Chapter 7: The Dutchman

Federal Building. January 24, 2005. Monday afternoon.

During the afternoon briefing, Peter told Neal to focus on the Dutchman and that's what he intended to do. He still had a few hours remaining in the afternoon before he needed to leave for evening classes.

In the past, Neal was the forger out to fool the authorities. Now the tables were turned. How skilled was he at unmasking one? He had in his possession not only the Corot painting but also several suspected forgeries by the Dutchman. Could he make a case for the Corot forgery also having been painted by the Dutchman? Neal knew he wouldn't be able to leave the mystery alone till he cracked it. This was one time Mozzie would be of limited help. Art was Neal's bailiwick. Solving the mystery of the Dutchman would prove his art chops to the bureaucrats in D.C. who didn't think they needed an art crimes investigator in New York.

For the time being, he put aside the bond forgeries and concentrated on the paintings. He'd decided his best shot at uncovering a tell from the forger would be an analysis of the paint pigments. Starting with the Titian, he went through the pigments, identifying them by their source. Raman spectroscopy was the best and fastest non-destructive method he knew of, but it would still take days.

* * * * *

"You're not going to Columbia this evening?"

Startled, Neal turned away from the microscope to see Travis. He already had his coat on and was ready to leave. Neal glanced at his watch and grimaced. Six o'clock. He'd have to hustle to make his appointment.

"Thanks, I lost track of time. I should have left an hour ago."

"I know the feeling," Travis said, helping him to turn off the equipment. "What do you have on tonight?"

"A seminar on abstract expressionism. I'm scheduled to meet with my advisor before class." He'd already returned the other materials to the evidence locker and only needed to carry the Titian back. But even with Travis's help, it took thirty minutes before he was on the subway for Columbia. No time to stop and eat, but Neal grabbed a granola bar from the breakroom on his way out.

He made it to Sherkov's office in Schermerhorn Hall with one minute to spare. Sherkov was sitting at his desk, a large open book in front of him. He'd been examining a plate of a Giorgione painting—Boy with an Arrow. Research for the next day's class perhaps. Sherkov had called for the meeting and Neal assumed it was to discuss his coursework, although it seemed too early to discuss his final paper or the next term.

After a few remarks about the Giorgione in front of him, Sherkov switched topics. "Your appraisal of the Corot at Weatherby's was quite impressive. There are few people I know who could have provided such a skilled analysis on the spot, and none of them is a grad student with only one semester under his belt. I'm told the Met confirmed your opinion."

"That's right." Neal was taken aback by Sherkov's comment. At the time, he'd been so focused on the painting, he hadn't thought about how it would look to others. He hadn't stopped to consider the repercussions of a first-year grad student demonstrating authentication expertise. He'd grown careless. Had he awakened the bear in Sherkov?

"When I asked you for an explanation of how you were able to make that determination, you were unsatisfyingly vague. Perhaps you could make another attempt."

Sherkov wouldn't be content with simple deflection. But the real explanation—what he'd given Peter—of being schooled on Corot forgery techniques was out of the question. Neal hoped the background supplied by the marshals would be enough to let the matter drop. "I grew up in Paris and was fortunate to have a series of excellent teachers plus outstanding museums to visit. As I'd explained before, my art teachers believed in copying the old masters. I have an affinity for that."