“Esh! Marilyn. I love her,” said Dafna. Tattooed, overly pierced, and sporting blue and purple hair on the half of her head that wasn’t shaved, she was the visual opposite of the tiny, dark-haired, ultra-cute Liora. Yet despite their external differences, the two of them had a remarkably symbiotic connection as they worked, and they often joked that they finished each other’s sandwiches.

Liora piped up. “Nicole’s friend is amazing. I’ve never seen anything like this. It’s like Warhol meets pulp-fiction cover art meets NYC Club Kid.”

Nir had to admit that was a really good analysis. The best descriptor for the painting he’d been able to come up with was colorful.

Imri spoke up. “The gloss is metoraf—seriously, it’s really incredible. And what’s it painted on? That’s not a regular canvas.”

“Exactly.” Nir was glad to see the new guy was weighing in. “It’s a cement-based medium, specially designed to hold color in wet and humid environments.”

“That’s an oddly specific answer. Want to tell the rest?” Yaron said.

All the hostility was in the past now that the page had turned to what might be a new operation.

“Where might one want waterproof and humidity-proof artwork?” Nir asked.

“The shower?” Dima said, immediately looking as though he regretted his offering. When all eyes turned to him, he said, “Sorry, your words no translate good to Russian.”

Imri spoke up again. “I’m thinking either coastal areas or high humidity places like East Asia or the Indian subcontinent.”

“Good. And Alicia does have some clients there. But this is very specialized, unique stuff specifically designed not just for humidity but for wetness.”

“So I’m guessing boats or cruise ships,” Liora said.

“Not cruise ships,” Dafna said, the excitement of the process coming through in her voice. “They go as cheap as they can get away with. You’re thinking about yachts. Big old Bezos-sized personal luxury cruisers.”

“Bingo,” said Nir. “How many bad actors—big-money guys running arms or funneling cash to militias—have their own overly indulgent water-bound playpens?”

“Pretty close to all of them,” Yossi chimed in. “I’ve had to track quite a few of them in the past. They’re all over the Med, the Persian Gulf, the Indian Ocean.”

“I still don’t get it, though. What’s your play, boss?” Liora shrugged. “Are you going to culture them all with modern art, thereby taking away their desire for violence and mayhem?”

“Sababa,” Dafna said, high-fiving her friend.

“Definitely out of the box,” Doron said with a wink across the table.

“We can call it Operation Art-Masculation.”

Cheers greeted Lahav’s suggestion, and Nir had to calm them down again.

“Liora, you’re partially right. I do want to get this artwork onto the fancy yachts of these bad guys. But I don’t plan on just cement and paint and a big wooden frame.”