“Not stolen. Restored. Restored to the Malik National Museum in Tehran, whence it came before it was looted. And where it belongs.”

“The Getty’s entire Incan collection, down to the last spondylus figurine—”

“Was returned to the Museo de la Nación in Lima. Again, to its proper country of origin.”

“The El Greco at the Louvre, for which they paid five million dollars—”

“To an ex-SS officer who had ‘commandeered’ it from a Jewish family in World War Two, Arthur? The Polecat liberated it and returned it to the surviving children of the family. Again, these are not thefts, Arthur, unless you consider their unlawful possession by foreign museums thefts. They are restorations.”

“This is craziness,” says Charlie. “I can’t believe it.”

“Me either,” I say, feeling suddenly very chipper to be in agreement with Charlie over anything Rat Burglarian. “Nuts!”

“All those works were lawfully purchased in good faith with proper certificates of authentication,” says Q.

“Which you can write up in crayon, for all museums care.”

Doreen ushers them back on topic so swiftly I can almost hear the producers yelling in her earpiece.

“Well, Doreen,” Spivey continues, “the clue to identity— and the only clue ever left behind by the Polecat—are the hairs. A steppe polecat is similar to the American barn weasel, but considerably more rare. Why, if you were the Polecat, would you go through the trouble of using such a hard-to-find item as your calling card? It is inconvenient, certainly, but it also makes you vulnerable to being traced by the authorities, as there are few outlets from which you can attain the hairs of a steppe polecat. Why would you risk that? The only sensible explanation is that the steppe polecat contains some sort of valuable message or metaphor.”

“Such as?”

“Unlike Arthur, I believe the Polecat is a member of the art community. The items targeted for restoration are much too specific to be the work of anyone but an expert. And as an expert, I know that the Polecat is aware that the only important representation of a steppe polecat in art is in the cave painting of the Upper Paleolithic. In these works animals are always associated with gender—‘male’ animals such as aurochs, bears, mammoths, horses, and ‘female’ animals such as reindeer, fish, various types of felines. The iconography is consistent: the ‘male’ animals always encircle the ‘female’ animals, as if to protect them, or exclude them. There is only one exception to this patriarchy, and it is the polecat. A ‘female’ animal, it is often corralled in the usual manner, but in some instances you will see a polecat penetrating the demarcation made by the male animals. You can interpret this as a transgressive act, or an act of privilege, but what is undeniable is that the steppe polecat’s only salient image in art history is that of a female agent penetrating into the male world. And I ask you, what is more masculine than thievery? What is more male than crime, or, as Arthur points out, fisticuffs?”