BooksBarbecue
Back The Last Mona Lisa Save as PDF
Contents (109)
  3. Contents
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. 38
  42. 39
  43. 40
  44. 41
  45. 42
  46. 43
  47. 44
  48. 45
  49. 46
  50. 47
  51. 48
  52. 49
  53. 50
  54. 51
  55. 52
  56. 53
  57. 54
  58. 55
  59. 56
  60. 57
  61. 58
  62. 59
  63. 60
  64. 61
  65. 62
  66. 63
  67. 64
  68. 65
  69. 66
  70. 67
  71. 68
  72. 69
  73. 70
  74. 71
  75. 72
  76. 73
  77. 74
  78. 75
  79. 76
  80. 77
  81. 78
  82. 79
  83. 80
  84. 81
  85. 82
  86. 83
  87. 84
  88. 85
  89. 86
  90. 87
  91. 88
  92. 89
  93. 90
  94. 91
  95. 92
  96. 93
  97. 94
  98. 95
  99. 96
  100. 97
  101. 98
  102. 99
  103. The South of France
  104. Author’s Note
  105. Reading Group Guide
  106. A Conversation with the Author
  107. Acknowledgments
  108. About the Author

I searched the painting. Squinted to see if I could detect it. And I did!

Chaudron and Valfierio had played me for the ultimate fool. They had given me a forgery!

I said nothing. I knew the Mona Lisa I held in my hands looked exactly like the original in every way. Even the images buried beneath the surface would be identical if they were to X-ray the painting. But I knew for certain it was one of Chaudron’s forgeries.

The smell had only been the first sign.

Now I had seen the proof.

What happened to the original? I did not yet know. I only knew that the painting I was offering to Geri and Poggi was not the painting I had stolen! And it was this painting that was finally returned to the museum.

If you doubt me go into the Louvre and bring with you a magnifying glass. Now slowly drag it over the surface of the painting and—

This was it, what I’d been waiting for, what scholars had been debating for over a hundred years. The question of whether or not the Mona Lisa in the Louvre, the one Vincent had stolen and returned, was a forgery—and if so, how to find out.

I turned the page.

Geri and Poggi notified the police, and I was arrested.

I flipped back.

Now slowly drag it over the surface of the painting and look very carefully at—

Forward again.

It didn’t make sense.

Not until I saw the shredded edges of paper trapped in the binding.

Shit! No! I ran my finger over the torn remnants of paper, my mind whirring. I sat back, felt as if I’d been punched in the stomach. What I’d come to Italy to discover.

Gone.

44

Missing pages.

I tried to think it through and what, if anything, I could do about them. Who had torn them out—and when?

Had Guggliermo torn them out before donating the journal to the library? Or had it been Quattrocchi? Was that why he disappeared? Or had it been someone else entirely? But who? When?

I had to know, had to find out. I couldn’t give up so easily. I’d risked too much. There had to be a way to find out what Chaudron had put into his forgeries. I forced myself to read what followed the missing pages—Vincent writing about his arrest. Interesting, but no clue to identifying the forgeries.

Had I missed something? Maybe there were enough clues here if I could study the page I had just read more carefully.

I looked up. Only one other scholar here today, and he was across the room going through a periodical. Chiara was heading into the back room. Beatrice sorting index cards as if her life depended on it. Riccardo nowhere to be seen. I reached down and opened my backpack. Only a few seconds to make the decision.

Do it.

A glance toward the front room. Again, how would I get the journal past Griselda?