Collection by T.K. Lasser Page B

Lucien wasn't a terrible idea. There was only one way of finding out, and that was to wait on the tacky pink couch and see.
    Raleigh directed his men to set up the painting on one of two easels in the middle of the room and continued to speak to Lucien. “The other dealer will be here momentarily. It's coming from Havana, but travel can be difficult in Cuba. The authenticator willlook at them both, and give me the final word. I consider myself an expert on Vermeer, as you know, so I didn't bother with outside corroboration that the painting you sold me was genuine. That may have been a mistake. Hubris afflicts modern men as well as dead Greeks. I am not too proud now.” Raleigh fixed his gaze on Lucien as if to gauge his reaction. There was no panic there. Lucien showed only relaxed detachment as if he were humoring a child's invented story.
    One of Raleigh's servants brought out a tray of glasses filled with ice water. Jane accepted her glass gratefully. The heat and humidity in the room made the air seem liquid. Lucien sipped his water slowly and tried to casually converse with Raleigh.
    â€œIs the authenticator anyone I would know?”
    â€œI think not. She's a lovely girl I found while in Paris last summer. Excellent credentials, and a taste for luxury instead of academia.” Even though he was sweating like the rest of them, Raleigh didn't take one of the glasses. He kept a subtle distance from both Jane and Lucien as if to remind them that they weren't here for a social visit. Raleigh liked to feel in control, and he liked to demonstrate his control.
    Lucien thought about who Raleigh's authenticator could be. Many reputable academics could make the determination of authenticity for the Vermeer, but not all of them would allow themselves to be clandestinely transported to Cuba. Being caught up in an international criminal syndicate could wreak havoc on one's chance at tenure. Apparently Raleigh had found someone who fit the expert bill, but didn't care so much about academic stature.
    She had to be respected enough to draw Raleigh's attention. Authenticators had to build up a reputation. Just because you went to college for a few years didn't mean you could tell an original from a fake. You had to have experience with the artist, an unassailable knowledge base, and a proven track record. Lucien knew most of the experts on the big-ticket artists. Money could sway such a person, but black market art dealing was a hard life, and suspicion would constantly fall on someone with an unknown source of income and dubious travel schedule. Just as Lucien was going to try to get more information from Raleigh, the woman in question walked throughthe door.
    Jane thought she was seeing things. There was now a Vogue model walking towards them. She was tall and lithe. Her white pantsuit was no doubt a designer name and her makeup was pristine. Her long and smooth chestnut brown hair swirled around her in a perfect arc as she walked. Jane could feel her hair randomly curling and poofing out in the humidity. This woman would not have that problem. She was beautiful and looked vaguely Italian. Jane saw her brown eyes flit across the occupants of the room and settle on Lucien. She knew that look. Jane was pretty sure she had looked the same way when she first saw him.
    â€œRaleigh! Your house is beautiful. My room is gorgeous and the veranda offers the most delicious breezes. I see you have more guests?” She had an accent that Jane couldn't place. The whole time she spoke, the woman's lively brown eyes never left Lucien. Jane felt like a sticky, sweaty, hostage; and more out of place by the minute.
    â€œPortia, I asked you to stay in your room until you were needed.” Raleigh directed his threatening tone somewhere else for once and it felt good to be out of the line of fire.
    Portia was apparently not fazed. “How could I when you haven't shown me around? I saw so little of the estate on the ride from your