David Hosp - Among Thieves

“Yes,” Kozlowski said. “I’m Tom Kozlowski. This is Scott Finn, he’s an attorney.”

Porter remained standing. “May I ask what your interest in the Gardner theft is?”

“We can’t answer that right now,” Kozlowski said.

Porter looked at Hewitt and Hewitt shrugged. “Special Agent Hewitt speaks very highly of you, Detective. That carries some weight in my book. Perhaps we can talk for a little while? There is always the chance that you’ll develop the same trust in me that you have in him.” Porter spoke like a college professor. His diction was perfect, and there was a hint of an upper-class accent. He spoke slowly and chose his words carefully. “So what is it you want to know about the theft?”

“You were in the Boston office when the Gardner was hit?” Kozlowski asked. “You were one of the agents originally assigned to the case?”

“Yes. I have been involved in the investigation from the beginning.”

“At the time, were you also working with the organized crime unit in Boston?”

“Yes.”

“Did you work with John Connolly at all?” It was a pointed question, the implications of which could not be overlooked.

“That’s out of line, Koz!” Hewitt protested.

“No, no, Robert,” Porter said. “It’s a fair question.” He smiled. “I did work on cases involving organized crime in the eighties and nineties, Mr. Kozlowski. But I had no involvement with the tainted informant program. I was involved in the prosecution of the Angiulo offshoot of the Patriarca family that resulted from the information disclosed by Mr. Bulger and others, but I never ran any of my own informants. And I never had any idea where we were getting our information. Agent Connolly kept that information to himself. As a result, I never had the opportunity to become involved in anything untoward. Believe me, it was an issue that was seriously weighed by the Bureau before it approved the funding for the Art Theft Program.”

“I’m sure it was.”

“And, as you can see, they still saw fit to put me in charge of the new division. That should give you some comfort.”

“Should it?”

Porter smiled. “You don’t strike me as the kind of a man who likes to waste time, Detective,” he said. “Assuming that to be the case, you must have a very good reason to come all the way up here to ask questions about the Gardner Museum, yes?”

Kozlowski leaned forward in his chair. “We understand that there was recently an offer made to sell the paintings,” he said, turning back to Porter. “Is that right?”

Porter shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I compliment you on not beating around the bush, Detective. Where did you come by that information?”

“From the director at the museum. Baxter. Is it true?”

Porter looked as though he were sucking on a lemon. Finn guessed he was either angry or constipated. “Under what circumstances did Mr. Baxter tell you this?” he asked.

“No circumstances,” Kozlowski said. “We had some questions about the theft.”

Porter wasn’t done with the lemon yet. He folded his hands together and looked down at them. “In any conversation I had with Mr. Baxter, I indicated that he was to keep any information to himself,” he said. “It is crucial to the case. You understand my surprise at the notion that he would have just blurted this out to you, Mr. Kozlowski.”

“Maybe you should have been clearer with him,” Kozlowski said.

“Perhaps. You didn’t, by any chance, represent yourselves as law-enforcement officers, or give Mr. Baxter reason to think you were officially connected in some way to the investigation, did you?”

“We never represented ourselves as anything we weren’t,” Kozlowski said. “I showed my private investigator’s license to the woman at the desk. You’ll have to ask Baxter what he believed. It’s true, though?” Kozlowski pushed. “There has been an offer to sell the paintings?”

Porter cleared his throat. “These paintings have been missing for nearly twenty years. They are the most valuable pieces of stolen art in the world-worth an estimated five hundred million dollars. I’m going to need more information from you if I’m going to continue this conversation.”

“What do you need?” Kozlowski asked.

“First and foremost, I need a reason to believe you two have something to offer me. I need a reason to believe you aren’t full of bullshit.”

Kozlowski turned to Finn. “Your call.”

Finn thought about it for a moment. “A client of mine who may have information that would be helpful to the investigation,” he said at last. “He’s got a problem you may be helpful in solving. If we could work a trade, would you be interested?”

“I might be,” Porter said. “What can he offer?”

“Under the right circumstances, he might be able to offer a lot.”

“Is he directly connected to the theft?”

“I can’t go there yet. Not without knowing what you can offer in return.”

Porter closed his eyes in thought for a moment. “Let’s handle it this way: I’ll talk to you generally about the theft and the things that are well known. I won’t discuss the specifics of the investigation, though. Not without more information from you.”

“Fair enough,” Kozlowski said.

Porter cleared his throat. “I assume you know the basics about how the thieves tricked the guards to gain access?” Finn and Kozlowski nodded. “Once inside, it was an easy job. The museum had virtually no security systems in place, and the thieves were able to spend close to an hour and a half in the place. In many ways, it was the perfect robbery. In other ways, it was a mess.”

“How was it a mess?” Kozlowski asked.

“Well, first, the mixture of art that was stolen was very odd. Several of the paintings stolen were exceptionally valuable. Vermeer’s The Concert, for example, is one of the most valuable paintings ever stolen. Similarly, Rembrandt’s Storm on the Sea of Galilee is an exceptional work, worth nearly as much as the Vermeer. It was the only seascape known to be painted by the Dutch master. Other paintings by Flinck and Degas were worth less, but still justified the effort. Some of the other works taken were comparatively worthless, though. It doesn’t really make sense. It is as though the thieves had some good information, and some bad information.”

“Are there any theories as to where the paintings are now?” Finn asked.

Porter looked at him. “Hundreds. We have chased over ten thousand tips, to no avail. There are more theories about who did this and why than there are police officers in Boston. No one has gotten it right yet, and the paintings have still not been found.”

“Do you have a favorite theory?” Kozlowski asked.

Porter considered the question. “I do. And I might share it with you if I had reason to believe you had legitimate information to give to me.” No one said anything. “I need more, gentlemen. Otherwise I can’t continue.”

“There were two men involved,” Finn said after a moment. “One had a list of the valuable paintings. The other didn’t know anything about art; he was just the entry man. He took advantage of the opportunity. That’s why some of what was stolen seemed worthless.”

“Your client?” Finn said nothing, and Porter smiled. “Of course. That would explain a lot. And it fits with some of the information we have.”

Finn felt as though he’d been taken. “So? Where do you think the paintings are now?” Finn demanded.

“I think the paintings are still here in Boston,” Porter said.

“Why?”

“You see,” Porter said, “first you have to try to get into the head of the person who planned this. To do that, you have to understand both the nature of the art theft industry and the psychology of the art thief.”