A special thanks to the National Gallery in London. Also, to the staffs of the Hotel de l’Europe in Amsterdam, the Hôtel de Crillon in Paris, and the Grand Hotel Kempinski in Geneva for taking good care of my family and me while I was conducting my research. Deepest apologies for running an intelligence operation from the rooms of the Kempinski without management’s permission, but given the time constraints, it wasn’t possible to make other arrangements. Habitués of Geneva probably know it would not be possible to see the fictional home of Martin Landesmann from even the upper floors of the Hôtel Métropole. It was one of many liberties I granted myself.

Louis Toscano, my dear friend and personal editor, made many improvements to the manuscript, as did my copy editor, Kathy Crosby. Obviously, responsibility for any mistakes or typographical errors that find their way into the finished book falls on my shoulders, not theirs. A special thanks to the remarkable team at Putnam, especially Ivan Held, Marilyn Ducksworth, Dick Heffernan, Leslie Gelbman, Kara Welsh, David Shanks, Meredith Phebus Dros, Kate Stark, Stephanie Sorensen, Katie McKee, Stephany Perez, Samantha Wolf, and Victoria Comella. Also, to Sloan Harris, for his grace and professionalism.

We are blessed with many friends who fill our lives with love and laughter at critical junctures during the writing year, especially Sally and Michael Oren, Angelique and Jim Bell, Joy and Jim Zorn, Nancy Dubuc and Michael Kizilbash, Elliott and Sloan Walker, Robyn and Charles Krauthammer, Elsa and Bob Woodward, Rachel and Elliott Abrams, Andrea and Tim Collins, Betsey and Andy Lack, Mirella and Dani Levinas, Derry Noyes and Greg Craig, Mariella and Michael Trager, and Susan and Terry O’Connor.

I am deeply indebted to my children, Lily and Nicholas, who spent much of last August on a research trip that stretched from the glaciers of Les Diablerets to the cliffs of Cornwall. They helped me to steal priceless works of art from Europe’s finest museums, fictitiously of course, and listened patiently while I conceived and discarded several different versions of the plot, usually during yet another endless train ride. Finally, my wife, Jamie Gangel, helped me find the essence of the story when it eluded me and skillfully edited the pile of paper I euphemistically refer to as a “first draft.” Were it not for her patience, attention to detail, and forbearance, The Rembrandt Affair would not have been completed before its deadline. My debt to her is immeasurable, as is my love.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

ABOUT THE AUTHOR