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Chapter 1

Descartes

The Petit Palais Museum

Avignon, France

“Turn off that damned alarm!” René Descartes — Inspector René Descartes, of the French National Police — waved his ar arc of annoyance that encompassed not just the bored police officers and the nervous museum staffers, but also the s, and possibly even their long-dead creators, as if the artists the hi

“We’re working on it,” croaked the ue Christ, how old is she? wondered Descartes, jotting her name in a pocket-sized notepad that he’d fished froht these pictures frouys who painted theue appeared to be wearing only a thin cotton nightgown Its e tendrils of thread curling upward toward her wispy white hair

Unlike Mue, Descartes was fully decked out in his de facto professional uniform — dress pants, dress shirt, jacket and tie — not because he’d swiftly suited up when the dispatcher awoke him, but because he’d fallen asleep on the couch at eleven, still wearing the rumpled outfit he’d donned fifteen hours before So a few beers or a bottle of wine in front of the television until the news or soccer highlights lulled him to sleep As a result, his dreams often hitched the fro the odd sensation that he’d not actually fallen asleep, but had si in French surrealisle ht simply be another of those dreams, conjured up to explain a particularly clamorous sound track

Just as he could bear noechoed for several seconds in the stone corridors and stairwells of the vast structure In the acoustic void left behind, the silence see until Descartes spoke, dispersing it “And you’re quite sure it’s not a false alarm, Madame?”

Morously for a woman of her years “Quite sure Pascal”—she stretched a clawlike finger toward a unifor in a nearby doorway—“found the door propped open at the service entrance” At the ed to look as self-iuard who’s been robbed, approached the director and murmured in her ear She blanched, then said to Descartes, “If you wish to see the security-cae of the thief, Pascal has it on the monitor”

“Sure, let’s take a look” The inspector followed Pascal and Mh a doorway into a small, less room located just off the entry hall Arrayed above a low, desklike counter that lined one wall, an appliance-store-worth of small televisions showed video feeds from a fleet of cameras Three of the cameras monitored exterior doorways — the -dock door, and an ele views of the er -dock door, propped open with a stone block APascal stooped and snaked an arue to press a button on the console; on the screen, the door opened wide and the

Descartes leaned in for a closer look As he did, he inadvertently collided with M for a better view “Excuse y, and Descartes ignored it

Theblack: black shoes, black pants, black pullover, black cap His head was bowed and as he e dock, he wrapped one arm across his face and then turned away from the camera “He knohere the caue “Could he be one of your staff?” Using a wooden crate for a boost, the ate and dropped into a quiet street on the other side To Pascal, the detective said, “Back up Let’s watch that again”

Med, then drew a deep breath and puffed it out, pphhtt, in answer to Descartes’s question “From this picture, who can tell? Nine ardener — work at the , so it’s not him” Descartes heard Pascal suppress a snicker “One is tall enough to be an Aet I suppose it could be any of the others” She frowned at the screen as the ed once more in playback, then turned and frowned at Descartes, her pale eyes raking him up and down “But it could be anyone It could be you, Inspector”

Descartes raised his eyebrows at her “You , Madame Director,” he said drily “You should have been a detective” He gestured at the monitor “So, with your keen powers of observation, what other helpful deductions can you share with us?”

His sarcasht a flush to her cheeks and a flash to her eyes, but she dutifully studied the screen once , she said, “I deduce that we should hide our security cameras in the bushes, so the robbers won’t knohere they are”

Descartes laughed, his irritation unexpectedly dispersed by the dry, self-deprecating joke “Touché, Madame” After a pause he added kindly, “Also, perhaps it’s worth noting that the man’s hands are empty?”

She drew a sharp breath, staring at the screen “Then he’s not stolen anything? Oh, thank God!” She breathed deeply in relief

“Well, he hasn’t stolen everything, at any rate,” the detective hedged “Does the collection include jewelry? Gold? Geht have put in his pockets?”

She pursed her lips, taking mental inventory, then shook her head “Our specialty is s We do have soies fro ofpocket-sized”

Descartes tapped the figure frozen onceunder his shirt? Or rolled up in the leg of his pants? So he’s cut from the frame and tucked in his clothes?”

“Heavens, Inspector,” she sighed, “just when I’ out froain” She put a hand to her chin, a yellow, hornlike fingernail stroking thin lips as she pondered “We have a nus The only way to know is to check all the galleries Shall I go and get started?”

“Not yet” Descartes turned to the security guard, who had rolled his chair away from the counter in search o

f h the footage fro backward?”

“Of course” The guard rolled toward the console again, parting the inspector and the director “Starting with Gallery One?”

The inspector turned to Mue “Let’s think like a thief, shall we? What’s thein the museum, and how much is it worth?”

“Goodness, that’s a difficult question, Inspector,” she replied “Most of our paintings were donated or loaned to us years ago, so it’s hard to say what they ht fetch these days Take that piece, for instance” She turned and pointed through the security roo of the entry hall — a large portrait of a couple standing side by side “Mary Magdalene and John the Baptist That’s just an enlargement, of course We paid sixty thousand francs for the painting, thirty years ago Earlier this year, a work not nearly that good fetched three million euros at auction”

“Threeinterest The colors were vivid and vibrant, and the couple possessed ood looks — sex appeal, even, he was surprised to notice “But I thought you specialized in medieval art,” he said “Surely that’s more modern?”

She gave him a tolerant smile “Actually, it’s six hundred years old,” she said “But it looks alures you see in s”

“For a religious painting, that’s pretty sexy,” Descartes reallery is that one in?”

“Six,” the director said Even before she said it, Pascal had switched the main monitor to the Gallery 6 camera He scrolled backward rapidly, thedown as fast as seconds

“Stop,” Descartes ordered A shadow had flitted across the screen, so swiftly as to be aluard reversed the direction of the playback “There! Slon, slon!” A allery, then turned toward the camera so that his face was clearly visible “Damn,” said Descartes

“Sorry,” Pascal shrugged “Justmy rounds”

“Okay Scroll back the rest of the way All the way to closing time”

Pascalto face the camera Otherwise the room re the walls