Chapter 30 Chapter Thirty

The chances of success were extremely limited, and Gunther Hartog had warned Tracy that it required very careful planning. Gunther's estimate was still insufficient to convey the real difficulties, Tracy thought. She stood in front of the window of the room, staring at the skylight on the roof of the Prado Museum for a long time, thinking about every detail she had about the museum.It opens at ten o'clock in the morning and closes at six o'clock in the evening. During this time, the alarm system is closed, but every entrance and every exhibition room is guarded by guards. Even if you managed to get the painting off the wall, Tracy thought, you couldn't take it with you.All bags are subject to inspection at the gate.

She looked at the roof of the Prado, wondering if she could take night action.But there are several problems: First, there is nowhere to hide.Tracy had long discovered that when night fell, the spotlights illuminated the entire roof as brightly as day, and could be seen clearly for miles around.Even if you sneak into the museum without being discovered, there is still an infrared alarm system, and there are night guards patrolling the museum. Prado appears to be invulnerable. What is Jeff's idea?Tracy could tell he wanted to do the Goya painting, too. I had to do everything I could to know what was going on in that cunning little head of his.One thing she was sure of: she must not let him beat him.I have to think of a way.

The next morning, she came to the Prado Museum again. Except for the different faces of the visitors, everything remains the same.Tracy kept an eye out to see if Jeff was coming too.But he didn't show up. Tracy thought, he's already figured out how to steal the painting, you bastard.He used all his charms in order to confuse me and prevent me from getting the famous painting first. She suppressed the anger in her heart and replaced it with sober and calm logical thinking. Tracy walked back to the picture of "The Port", and her eyes swept over the neighboring pictures, the vigilant guards, the amateur painters sitting on the small horses and imitating, and the visitors who came in and out. The crowd, she looked at it like this, her heart suddenly beat violently.

I know what to do now. She came to a public phone booth on Gran Via Street, and Daniel Cooper, who was standing in front of a cafe watching her, was so itchy that if he told him who she called, he would be fined for a year. Salary is also willing.He concluded that this was an international call, and the other party paid for it. There is nowhere to check this kind of call.He noticed that she had never worn a lake-green linen dress before, and that she wasn't wearing stockings.That would make men stare at her legs, he thought.bitch. He just felt angry. In the phone booth, Tracy's call was almost over. "He has to be fast, Gunther. He only has two minutes or so. It's all about speed."

Two days later, at nine o'clock in the morning, Tracey sat on a bench in Le Tiereau Park, feeding the pigeons leisurely.Letiero Park is located in the center of Madrid. The calm lake, lush trees, well-manicured lawns, and a pocket stage specially built for children's performances attract Madrid citizens to come here for a walk and rest. Walking along the park path came an elderly, gray-haired, slightly stooped man named Cesar Poleda.He went to the bench, sat down beside Tracy, opened a paper bag that he carried with him, and took out some bread crumbs to throw to the pigeons. "Good morning, miss."

"Good morning. Any questions?" "No, miss. I just want the time and the date." "I haven't decided yet," Tracy told him. "Soon." He grinned, his teeth falling out. "The police must be crazy. No one has ever done anything like this." "That's what made it work," Tracy said. "Wait for my message." She threw the last crumbs to the pigeons and stood up.She walked away gradually, and the knee-length hem of the silk dress swayed conspicuously from side to side. Daniel Cooper conducts a search of Tracey's room as she meets Cesar Poreda in the park.In the foyer he saw Tracy leave the hotel and head for the park.She had not ordered breakfast in the house, and Cooper figured she must have dined out.He limited himself to thirty minutes.It's not difficult to sneak into her room, as long as the maid in the corridor can't see it, you can solve the problem with a master key.He knew what to look for: a reproduction of a famous painting.He couldn't imagine how Tracy could do it, but he could tell it must be her trick.

He searched all the other rooms in the entire guest room. He moved very quickly without making any noise or missing anything, and finally came to the bedroom.He looked in the closet first, touching every piece of clothing.Then there is the chest of drawers.He opened the drawers one by one.It was full of shorts, bras, and stockings.He picked up a pair of pink panties and rubbed them gently on his cheeks, imagining the fragrant flesh in these shorts.Her body odor suddenly became everywhere.He quickly put the clothes away and looked through the other drawers.There are no reproductions of famous paintings.

Cooper went into the bathroom.There were still drops of water in the bathtub.Her body had been lying there, submerged in pool water that was as warm as a womb.Cooper saw Tracy lying naked in a pool of clear water, the water gently stroking her breasts as her hips rose and fell.He suddenly felt his erection, and quickly grabbed a wet towel beside the bathtub to cover his mouth.Her deodorant scent lingered around him, and he unbuttoned his pants, wiped a bar of soap on a wet towel, and began to rub himself back and forth.He looked in the mirror and saw a human figure staring into a pair of bloodshot eyes.

A few minutes later, he crept out of the room as he had just entered, and went straight to a nearby church. The next morning, Tracy left the Ritz Hotel, with Daniel Cooper trailing behind.There seemed to be an intimacy between them that they hadn't had before.He knew her body odor; he saw her lying in the bathtub, saw her writhing naked up and down in the warm water.She was all his: it was up to him to destroy her.He saw her wandering along the Gran Via, stopping now and then to look at the goods in the shops, and after following her into a department store, he quickly found a corner that would not be seen.He saw her talking to a salesperson and then going into the women's room.Cooper stopped not far from the door, feeling very depressed.This is the only place where he can't continue to follow.

If Cooper could get in, he'd hear Tracy talking to a fat, middle-aged woman. "Tomorrow," Tracy said, applying lipstick in the mirror, "tomorrow morning, at eleven o'clock." The fat woman shook her head. "No, mademoiselle. He won't agree. You picked the worst possible day. The Dauphin of Luxembourg is here tomorrow for a state visit, and the papers say he will visit the Prado. There will be increased security throughout the museum." "The more guards the better. Tomorrow." Tracy opened the door and left.The woman looked at her back and said to herself: "This guy is crazy——"

The crown prince and his party were scheduled to arrive at the Prado at 11:00 am. The streets and alleys near the museum were cordoned off and guarded by the civil defense team.Due to the delay in the welcome ceremony at the presidential palace, the crown prince and his party did not arrive until close to noon.First, I heard the whining of sirens from far and near, and then I saw a group of motorcycles clearing the way, and then six or seven black luxury cars came in a file, and stopped at the steps of the Prado Museum. At the entrance, the curator of the museum, Christian Machada, waited nervously for the presence of His Royal Highness the Crown Prince. Early this morning, Machada had made a round of inspections, instructing the entire building to be orderly and the guards must be extra vigilant.The curator was always proud of his museum, and he hoped to make a good impression on the Crown Prince. It never hurts to have friends at the top, Machada thought.Who knows?Maybe tonight I will be invited to the Presidential Palace to attend the dinner welcoming His Royal Highness the Crown Prince. Christian Machada's only regret was that he couldn't stop the hordes of tourists wandering here and there.However, the crown prince's personal guards and the museum's security guards are more than enough to keep His Royal Highness safe.Everything is arranged. The visit of the crown prince and his party started from the main hall upstairs.After the curator delivered a warm welcome speech to His Highness, he accompanied him, surrounded by armed guards, through the rotunda, and entered the exhibition rooms one by one.On display here are the works of 16th-century Spanish painters: Juan de Juanís, Pedro Marcuca, Fernando Janez. The crown prince walked slowly, and the masterpieces in front of him made him extremely happy.He himself is a patron of artworks, and he has a sincere love for those painters who can vividly reproduce the past and endow them with immortal vitality.He himself had no talent for painting, so when he looked around and saw those amateur painters sitting at their easels copying, hoping to pick up sparks of genius from the old masters, he couldn't help but feel jealous. After the distinguished guests visited the exhibition rooms in the main hall, Christian Machada said excitedly: "If His Highness allows, I will take you downstairs to visit the Goya exhibition." All morning, Tracy was distraught and distracted.The fact that the crown prince did not arrive at the Prado at eleven o'clock as scheduled made her panic.Her whole plan was counted in seconds, and she needed the arrival of the Crown Prince to make it all work. She walked from one exhibition room to another, trying to blend in the crowd without attracting attention.He won't come, Tracy finally disappointed.I had to put it all off.But at that moment, she heard the whine of a police car in the street. Daniel Cooper, who had chosen a vantage point in the adjoining room to spy on Tracy, also heard the police car.His rationality told him that it was impossible for anyone to steal the paintings in this museum, but his intuition told him that Tracy would try to do so. Compared with the two, Cooper trusted his intuition more.He hid behind the crowd and moved closer to her.He can't let her slip away from his eyelids at any time. At this time, Tracy was standing in the room next to the room where "The Port" was hung.She looked through the open door of the exhibition room, just in time to see the hunched Cesar Poleda sitting at his easel, copying Goya's "Girl in Dress", next to which is "Port".A guard stood three feet away.In Tracy’s exhibition room, a female painter is standing in front of the easel, concentrating on copying “The Milkmaid of Bordeaux”, trying her best to capture the brown and green colors in Goya’s painting. A group of Japanese tourists flocked into the exhibition room, chirping like a flock of exotic birds.The time has come!Tracy made up her mind.This is the moment she's been waiting for.Her heart was beating so loudly that she almost worried whether the guards would hear her.She moved away from the route that the Japanese tourists were going to pass, and backed away from the female painter.When a Japanese man walked by in front of her, Tracy fell back on her back, as if being pushed by someone, just knocked down the painter, her easel, canvas fell, and the paint was scattered all over the floor . "Oh, I'm so sorry!" cried Tracy. "Let me help you clean up." When she was helping the panic-stricken painter to clean up, she deliberately stepped on the scattered paint, and the floor of the exhibition room was in a mess.Daniel Cooper saw all this clearly, and as he ran forward, every nerve was tense.It can be concluded that Tracy Whitney has made her first move. The guard rushed forward and kept shouting, "What's going on? What's going on?" This unexpected situation attracted tourists, who gathered around the fallen female painter, the paint in the paint tube was trampled out, leaving puddles of inexplicable figures on the hardwood floor.This is simply treason, and the Crown Prince will come over soon.The guard scrambled and shouted desperately: "Secchio! Come here! Quick!" The guard from the next room sprinted over to help.Only Cesar Poleda was alone in the room where the "Port" was displayed. Tracy is at the center of the chaos.The two guards tried their best to push the crowd away from the paint-stained area, but to no avail. "Call the curator," cried Sercchio, "at once!" Another guard went straight to the stairs.What happened!What a mess! Two minutes later, Christian Machada arrived at the scene of the accident.The curator was first taken aback, and then cried out: "Call the sweeper here quickly—quickly! Mops, rags and floor wax. Quickly!" A young assistant was ordered to go. Macada turned to Sercchio. "Go back to your post!" he roared angrily. "Yes, sir." Tracy watched as the guards rushed out of the crowd and back to the room where Cesar Poleda was copying the paintings. Cooper kept his eyes on Tracy.He had been waiting for her second move.But this second step never happened.She did not come near any of the paintings, nor did she come into contact with any of her accomplices.All she had done was knock over the easel and spill the paint tubes, and he was sure it was on purpose.But to what end?Cooper had a vague sense that what she had planned in advance had already happened.He looked around the walls of the exhibition room.Not a single painting was missing. Cooper ran to the next room.There were only guards and an old man with a ostrich. He sat in front of his easel, copying Goya's "The Dressed Girl", all the paintings hanging neatly.But something must have happened.Cooper understood. Cooper sprinted to the fussy curator, whom they had met earlier. "I have reason to believe," blurted Cooper, "that in the last few minutes a painting has been stolen from here." Christian Machada stared at the staring American. "What are you talking about? If that's the case, the guards would have raised the alarm." "I think a real painting here has been dropped." The curator responded with a tolerant smile. "There is a slight error in what you say, sir. There is an anti-theft device on the back of every picture here, which is generally unknown to anyone. If anyone wants to take the picture off the wall, that is what you say. If the packet is dropped, the siren will go off immediately." Daniel Cooper is still not satisfied. "Will your siren be cut off?" "Impossible. If anyone cuts off the power, the siren will go off. Sir, it is impossible for anyone to steal the paintings in this museum. Our security measures can be called foolproof." Cooper stood there, speechless, trembling.What the curator said is indeed convincing.It really is foolproof.But why did Tracy Whitney knock over the paint on purpose? Cooper still refused to give up. "Just one more request. Would you like to have your men go through the entire museum to see if there is anything missing? I'll wait at my hotel." Cooper can only go so far. At seven o'clock that night, Christian Machada called Cooper. "I checked it myself again, sir. Every picture in the collection is in good condition. There is nothing missing in the museum." It had to be like this.It appears that this was indeed an accident.Yet Daniel Cooper, with his hunter instincts, always felt that his prey had fled. Jeff invites Tracy to dinner in the main dining room of the Ritz Hotel. "You looked extra radiant tonight," Jeff complimented her. "Thank you, I feel great." "It's just a courtesy. Seriously, come with me to Barcelona next week, Tracy. It's a beautiful city. You'll like it..." "I'm sorry, Jeff, I can't go, I have to leave Spain." "Really?" he regretted. "when?" "In three to five days." "Oh, I'm so disappointed." You'll be even more disappointed, Tracy thought, when you learn I've stolen The Port.She doesn't know how he planned to steal the painting.But this is not important anymore.I've taught the smart Jeff Stevens a lot.Yet, somehow, Tracy felt a vague sense of regret. In the morning, Christian Machada sat in his office, sipping a cup of espresso leisurely, thinking about the scene of successfully receiving the visit of the Crown Prince.Except for the unfortunate paint tube accident, everything went exactly to plan.Thanks to temporarily leading the crown prince and his retinue elsewhere, the stain was cleaned up.He thought of the lunatic American who had made him believe that someone had stolen a museum painting, and he couldn't help being amused.Impossible yesterday, impossible today, impossible tomorrow, he thought smugly. His secretary walked into the office. "Excuse me sir, there is a gentleman who wants to see you and he asked me to give you this." She handed the curator a letter.On the letterhead there is the inscription of the Kunsthaus Museum Zurich: The letter of introduction is signed by the curator of the Koons Dawes Museum in Zurich. Machada was thrilled.Sooner or later people will ask me. "Please come in." Henri Handel was a tall, bald, handsome man with a thick Swiss accent.When the two shook hands, Machada noticed that the visitor's right index finger was missing. Henry Handel said: "Thank you very much. This is the first time I have the opportunity to visit Madrid, and I look forward to seeing the art treasures collected by your museum as much as possible." Christian Machada said kindly: "I don't think you will be disappointed, Mr. Handel. Please come with me, and I will accompany you personally." They walked slowly, first looking at the works of the Flemish masters displayed in the rotunda, and then at the paintings of Rubens and his followers, and then came to the central gallery displaying the works of Spanish painting masters .Henry Handel scrutinized each painting carefully.The two were talking among art experts, and gave their own evaluations on various artistic styles, viewing angles, and color senses. "Now it's time to see," the curator announced, "the pride of Spain." He led the guests downstairs to the gallery where Goya's work was displayed. "It's really a feast for the eyes!" Handel exclaimed in surprise. "Wait a minute, please! Let me stand here and take a good look." Christian Machada waited patiently, taking great pride in the reverence shown by his guests. "I have never seen such a masterpiece," Handel said.He walked around the exhibition room again, admiring each masterpiece in turn. "The Witch's Sabbath," said Handel, "beautiful!" They move on. "Goya's "Self-Portrait" - a marvelous imagination!" Christian Machada narrowed his eyes. Handel stopped in front of "Port". "Fantastic forgery." He continued on. The curator grabbed his arm. "What? What did you say, sir?" "I say it's a wonderful fake." "You're dead wrong," he said angrily. "I do not think so." "You must be wrong," said Machada stubbornly. "I guarantee that this painting is real. I have the source of this painting." Henry Handel went to the screen again and examined it carefully. "The attribution of the painting is also false. This painting is from Goya's student Eugenio Lucas Padilla. Of course, as you must know, Lucas painted hundreds of Goya's false paintings." "Of course I know that," Machada snapped, "but it's not a fake." Handel shrugged. "I admire your judgment." He walked on. "I bought this painting with my own hands. Spectral testing, pigment testing, there is no problem..." "I don't doubt it. Lucas was a contemporary of Goya and used the same materials." Henry Handel bent over the signature at the bottom of the painting. "It's easy to verify the authenticity, if you want. Take the painting to your recovery room and check the signature." He giggled. "Lucas always signed his name on the paintings out of self-esteem, but in order to sell them for a better price, he put Goya's name on his own name, which greatly increased the price of his paintings." Handel glanced at his watch. "Excuse me, I'm afraid I'm going to miss another appointment. Thank you so much for allowing me to share your treasure." "You're welcome." The curator said coldly.This is obviously a big fool, he thought. "If you need my help, please come to me. I live in Villa Mana. Thank you again, sir." Handel said goodbye. Christian Machada watched him go.How dare the Swiss idiot call this Goya masterpiece a fake! He turned and looked at the painting again.What a masterpiece.He bent over Goya's signature.completely normal.But even so, is it possible?Suspicion does not go away easily.Goya's contemporary, Eugenio Lucas Padilla, who forged hundreds of Goya's works and became famous for impersonating his teacher, is well known.Machada bought Goya's "Port" for $3.5 million.If he was deceived, it would be a great stain, and he really didn't have the courage to continue thinking about it. Henry Handel was right in saying that it is actually very simple to distinguish authenticity from falsehood.He decided to check the signature, and then called Handel, very tactfully suggested that he find a more suitable job. The curator called his subordinates to him and ordered to send "Port" to the recovery room. The inspection of famous paintings is a very delicate work. If you are not careful, the irreplaceable and priceless treasures will be destroyed.The restoration workers of the Prado Museum are skilled experts.Most of them are painters who have not achieved fame, and a career in restoring famous paintings can keep them close to the art they love.These people all started as apprentices, learned the art under the guidance of the master, and then worked for several years.After becoming an assistant, he was allowed to touch those famous paintings under the supervision of the old craftsman. Juan Delguedo, director of the Art Restoration Room of the Prado Museum, placed "The Port" on a special wooden stand, while Christian Macchiada looked on. "I want you to check the signature," the curator said to him. Del Guedo suppressed his surprise. "Yes, Mr. Curator." He dipped a small cotton ball in isopropyl alcohol and put it on a table next to the painting, and used a cotton ball dipped in light oil as a neutralizer. "I'm ready, sir." "Go ahead. Be careful!" Machada suddenly felt a tightness in his chest and had difficulty breathing.He watched as Delguedo picked up the first cotton ball and dabbed it on Goya's signature G.Immediately afterwards, Delguedo picked up a second cotton ball to neutralize the isopropyl alcohol just applied.Prevent deep soaking.The two looked at the screen carefully. Delgado frowned. "Sorry, I can't tell," he said. "I'll have to use a stronger solvent." "Use it." The curator instructed. Del Guedo opened another glass bottle and poured menthol onto a cotton ball.He picked up a cotton ball and wiped it on the initials of the signature, and then neutralized it with the first cotton ball.The room was filled with the pungent smell of chemical solvents.Christian Machada stared intently at the picture, unable to believe what he saw.The letter G of Goya's signature fades away, revealing an L clearly. Delgado turned to look at him, pale. "I want—do I want to continue?" "Yes," said Machada hoarsely, "go on." After applying the solvent, Goya's signature slowly disappeared letter by letter, and Lucas's signature appeared.Every letter is like a fist, stabbing straight into Machada's belly.He, the head of one of the world's major museums, had been duped.The museum board will hear about it, the King of Spain will hear about it, the whole world will hear about it.He is finished. He staggered back to his office and hung up on Henry Handel. They were sitting in Machada's office. "You're right," said the curator with a heavy heart. "It's Lucas's. I'm going to be a laughingstock when word gets out." "Lucas has deceived many connoisseurs," Handel reassured him. "I just happen to be a little interested in his forgery." "I paid $3.5 million for that painting." Handel shrugged. "Can you get the money back?" The curator shook his head in despair. "I bought it from a widow who said the painting was her husband's ancestor. If I sued her, the matter would be debated endlessly in court and all society would be talking about it. Every painting in this museum will be suspected of being a fake." Henry Handel thought hard. "There's really no need to make it public. Why don't you explain it to your superiors and quietly sell this Lucas painting? You might as well send it to Sotheby's or Christie's and have them auction it off for you Lose." Machada shook his head again and again. "No. This is tantamount to letting the whole world know the truth." Handel's eyes lit up suddenly. "Lucky for you. I have a client who might be willing to buy Lucas's paintings. He collects them. He's a tight-lipped man." "Of course I'm glad to get rid of this painting. I hope I never see it again. A forgery among treasures, I'd even give it away for nothing," he added bitterly. "That's not necessary. My client might be willing to pay you—about fifty thousand dollars. Shall I give him a call?" "You have been a great help to me, Mr. Handel." At a hastily held board meeting, the startled directors unanimously decided that under no circumstances should it be revealed that a treasure in the Prado collection was a fake.It was agreed that it would be best to dispose of the fake as quietly as possible and as quickly as possible.The directors in dark suits walked out of the conference room one after another in silence, and no one paid any attention to Machada. He stood alone, anxious and sweating. A deal was made that afternoon.Henry Handel made a trip to the Bank of Spain and brought back a fifty thousand dollar credit check, and Lucas's painting was handed to him in a roll of humble linen. "The board of directors will be very disturbed if this matter is made public," Machada cautioned, "but I have assured them that your client is a tight-lipped man." "You don't have to worry about this," Handel promised. As soon as Henry Handel came out of the museum, he hailed a taxi and went straight to the residential area at the northern end of Madrid.He took the painting to the third floor of an apartment building and knocked on the door.It was Tracy who opened the door.Behind her stands Cesar Poleda.Tracy looked at Handel with a questioning look, and the other party grinned. "They can't wait to get rid of it as soon as possible!" Henry Handel expressed his joy with lukewarm sarcasm. Tracy gave him a hug. "Come inside." Poleda took the painting and spread it on the table. "Now," said the hunchback, "you will see a miracle—Goya is seen again." He fished out a bottle of menthol alcohol.As soon as the bottle cap was opened, the room was filled with a pungent smell.Tracy and Handel watched as Poleda poured the alcohol solution onto a wad of cotton, gently rubbing away Luska's signature bit by bit.Slowly, Lucas's signature recedes, revealing Goya's signature below. Handel was dumbfounded. "awesome!" "It was Miss Whitney's idea," the hunchback admitted. "She asked me if there was a way to cover the original author's signature with a fake one, and then cover the fake signature with the original author's name." "He figured out exactly what to do," Tracy said with a laugh. Poréda said modestly: "It's as simple as hell. It doesn't take two minutes. The key is the paint I use. First, I cover Goya's signature with a layer of refined French colorless varnish to protect it. Next, I wrote Lucas's name with quick-drying acrylic paint. Then, I applied a light layer of oil varnish and wrote Goya's name in oil paint on top. When the top layer of the signature was wiped off, the Lucas's name was exposed. If they went any further, Goya's real signature would have been found hidden at the bottom. Of course, they didn't find it." Tracy handed them each a thick envelope and said, "I want to thank you both very much." "When do you need an art appraiser?" Henry Handel winked at her. "How do you plan to take this painting out of the country?" asked Poréda. "I'm going to send a messenger here to fetch it. You wait for him." She shook hands with them and said goodbye. On the way back to the Ritz, Tracy was ecstatic.Everything is a matter of psychology, she thought.At first, she always thought it was impossible to steal the painting from the Prado, so she had to lead them into the trap and make them feel that they should get rid of it.Tracy couldn't help laughing out loud at the thought of Jeff's face when he learned he had lost his wits. She waited in the hotel for the arrival of the messenger.When the messenger arrived, Tracy hung up on Poleda. "The messenger is here with me now," Tracy said. "I asked him to fetch the painting. He..." "What, what did you say?" Poleda exclaimed. "Half an hour ago your messenger took the picture away."