For many a federal agent over the past four decades, the Gardner paintings had been the investigative equivalent of Melville’s white whale; so many leads had brought agents so close to solving the case that announcements had been drafted and discarded multiple times. Scenarios had abounded, involving Boston gangs rising all the way up to Whitey Bulger himself, the most famous mobster in local history. Many books and articles had followed trails both strong and obscure, eventually veering toward a plot involving a second-tier gangster named Bobby Donati, who might have hoped to use the paintings as leverage to get a colleague out of prison. Donati’s gangland murder a year after the theft made it a difficult theory to prove, though the investigations surrounding a number of Donati’s associates had kicked up many promising leads. And yet, for all the investigative efforts, the paintings, the finial, and the gu were still missing—and the $10 million reward the museum and the FBI had offered remained unclaimed.

When the calls had come in from one of Agent Zack Lindwell’s contacts that Jimmy the Lip was inquiring about that reward, Zack had assumed it would be another dead end, like all the rest. In fact, he might not have even followed up, had Jimmy the Lip not ended up strapped to a chair, with a hole in his forehead. Six hours ago, Zack could easily have written the calls off to fantasy, mere tall tales. But in the light of the early morning streaming in off the river, things looked a little different.

People didn’t usually get shot in the head for making up stories about missing valuable art. And the bullet hole in Jimmy’s head wasn’t even the worst part of the crime scene.

“Two fingernails,” Zack said, changing the subject as he drew Marsh’s attention to the corpse’s hand, still pinned to the chair by the dead man’s belt. “Torn off clean. Probably with a plier. Someone was looking for information.”

Marsh nodded. The expression on his face hadn’t softened, but as much as he disliked Zack and the FBI, he did like solving cases. No doubt, Zack had already saved him time at the computer by identifying the corpse, and that was welcome; Marsh didn’t seem like the type who was particularly adept with a keyboard.

“Security cameras put two people in the vicinity of the room, within spitting distance of the time he got whacked.”