Page 123 of The Collector
Another important clue was revealed in the first week of December, when General Cesare Ferrari, commander of the Carabinieri’s Art Squad, announced the recovery ofSelf-Portrait with Bandaged Earby Vincent van Gogh. The news sent shock waves through the art world, though some were troubled by Ferrari’s distinct lack of candor regarding key details of the case, including his refusal to say where or how the iconic painting had been found. This gave rise to speculation that more missing paintings might soon resurface. General Ferrari declined to take part in it.
But was the painting actually the missing Van Gogh? The Art Squad said it was, as did the Courtauld Gallery’s esteemed director,who flew to Rome for the news conference. He was relieved to find the canvas in remarkably good condition. Nevertheless, a minor touch-up was in order before it could be returned to its place in the gallery. General Ferrari, as it turned out, had someone in mind for the job.
“Is he available?” asked the director.
“He’s hacking away at the altarpiece in Santa Maria degli Angeli in Venice.”
“Not the Pordenone?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“It’s beneath him.”
“I said the same thing,” said General Ferrari with a sigh.
“He’s a bit on the pricey side,” said the director. “I’m not sure I have the money in the budget.”
“Actually, I have a feeling he’d be willing to do it pro bono.”
Which was indeed the case—provided, of course, that he was able to secure the approval of his immediate supervisor at the Tiepolo Restoration Company. Much to his surprise, she agreed without hesitation. The painting departed Rome the following morning in a caravan of Carabinieri vehicles, and by nightfall it was propped upon an easel in his studio. He inserted a CD into his British-made audio system—Schubert’s String Quartet in D Minor—and pressedplay. Then he wound a swatch of cotton wool around the end of a wooden dowel, dipped it into a carefully calibrated mixture of acetone, methyl proxitol, and mineral spirits, and went to work.
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San Polo
Gabriel believed the craft of restoration was a bit like making love. It was best done slowly and with painstaking attention to detail, with occasional breaks for rest and refreshment. But in a pinch, if the craftsman and his subject matter were adequately acquainted, a restoration could be done at extraordinary speed, with more or less the same result.
Gabriel was certainly on a first-name basis with Vincent—he had restored him, forged him, and even stolen him—but he deliberately worked at a snail’s pace. The iconic self-portrait would soon be one of the most viewed paintings in the world. Not theMona Lisa, mind you, but it would certainly draw a crowd. It was inevitable, given the gossipy nature of London’s art world, that the name of the conservator who knocked it into shape would leak to the press. It was essential, reasoned Gabriel, they both put their best foot forward.
The surest way to impede his progress was to limit the amount of time he spent at his easel. He accomplished this by walking the children to school each morning, collecting them again each afternoon, and takingun’ombraor two during his coffee breaks. Even so, hisdaily time on task reached an astounding five hours. He trimmed it further by imposing on Chiara to drop by the apartment each day for lunch. Invariably, it included a discussion of his most recent operation.
“But what if she hadn’t removed the document from Nikolai Petrov’s briefcase?” Chiara asked one cold and rainy afternoon. “What would have happened then?”
“The Russians would have carried out a false-flag nuclear attack in the village of Maksimov, killing a few hundred of their own citizens in the process. Several hours of highly choreographed popular outrage would have followed, leaving poor Vladimir Vladimirovich with no choice but to use his massive arsenal of tactical nuclear weapons against the Ukrainian military.”
“How would the Americans have responded?”
“By destroying the Russian military in eastern Ukraine with an overwhelming conventional strike, leaving poor Vladimir Vladimirovich with no choice but to wipe Kyiv from the map. At which point,” said Gabriel, “things would have become really interesting.”
“A nuclear exchange between the United States and Russia?”
“A distinct possibility.”
“A professional thief saved the world? Is that what you’re saying?”
“The world isn’t out of the woods just yet.”
“Could it happen still?”
“Of course. But the chances have been greatly reduced.”
“Why?”
“Kompromat,” replied Gabriel.
“The Security Council directive?”
“Exactly.”
