She opened the stainless steel door of the oven and from inside removed a large orange pot. As she lifted the lid there arose a warm rush of steam that filled the entire room with the savor of roasting veal, shallots, fennel, and sweet Tuscan dessert wine. She inhaled deeply, poked at the surface of the meat with her fingertip, and gave a contented smile. Chiara’s disdain for physical exertion was matched only by her passion for cooking. And now that she was officially retired from the Office, she had little to do other than read books and prepare extravagant meals. All that was expected of Gabriel was an appropriate display of appreciation and undivided attention. Chiara believed that food hastily consumed was food wasted. She ate in the same manner in which she made love, slowly and by the flickering glow of candles. Now she licked the tip of her finger and replaced the cover on the pot. Closing the door, she turned and noticed Gabriel staring at her.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I’m just looking.”

“Is there a problem?”

He smiled. “None at all.”

She furrowed her brow. “You need something else to occupy your thoughts other than my body.”

“Easier said than done. How long before dinner?”

“Not long enough for that, Gabriel.”

“I wasn’t suggesting that.”

“You weren’t?” She pouted playfully. “I’m disappointed.”

She opened a bottle of Chianti, poured two glasses, and pushed one toward Gabriel. “Who steals paintings?”

“Thieves steal paintings, Chiara.”

“I guess you don’t want any of the veal.”

“Allow me to rephrase. What I was trying to say is that it really doesn’t matter who steals paintings. The simple truth is, they’re stolen every day. Literally. And the losses are huge. According to Interpol, between four and six billion dollars a year. After drug trafficking, money laundering, and arms dealing, art theft is the most lucrative criminal enterprise. The Museum of the Missing is one of the greatest in the world. Everyone is there—Titian, Rubens, Leonardo, Caravaggio, Raphael, Van Gogh, Monet, Renoir, Degas. Everyone. Thieves have pillaged some of man’s most beautiful creations. And for the most part, we’ve done nothing to stop it.”

“And the thieves themselves?”

“Some are bumblers and adventurers looking for a thrill. Some are ordinary criminals trying to make a name for themselves by stealing something extraordinary. But unfortunately a few are real pros. And from their perspective, the risk-reward ratio is weighted heavily in their favor.”

“High rewards, low risks?”

“Extremely low risks,” Gabriel said. “A security guard might shoot a thief during a bank robbery, but to the best of my knowledge no one has ever been shot trying to steal a painting. In fact, we make it rather easy for them.”

“Easy?”