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confirming their names, but Lorenzo Gonzáles had the equally annoying habit of doing the reverse.
    â€œI’m here to collect the mask, but I am not a collector.”
    The dealer leaned back, looking concerned. “How is your father? The Centurion affair was a terrible shock.”
    â€œYou heard?”
    â€œI heard.”
    â€œEveryone here heard?”
    â€œEveryone.” He sniffed. “It is a small circle. Collectors, scholars, dealers, curators.”
    Anna hadn’t realized the full extent to which she had been the last to know. “All the people he cares about.”
    Gonzáles shrugged. “But your father has not given up. This is a good thing. He has faith in this new mask.”
    â€œHe has faith because
you
have faith.”
    â€œI never make promises until I hold a piece in my hands, but I wanted him to have the first chance to see it. I try to keep my clients happy.”
    â€œYou trust this looter?”
    â€œTrust . . .” Gonzáles’s smile rose and fell. “Understand. I deal art. I collect art. I read. I write.” He gestured to his bookcases. “I know scholars from universities, museums, foundations. I know billionaires and princes. I also know gang members, looters, smugglers. I am not afraidof either world. Both need me. With a stroke of the pen, I can make a fake legitimate or a legitimate fake.”
    He stopped to consider her. “You have great faith in your father.”
    Her faith—or lack of it—was none of his business. She changed the subject. “I’m planning to take the overnight bus to Mexico City,” she said, hoping he would offer her a ride.
    â€œI would take you, but I must make a stop in Puebla first, so we will meet at the direction, sorry, the address, tomorrow. Take a cab from the bus station. Your father should have come. Tepito is no place for a woman alone.”
    Nothing egged Anna on more than the insinuation she wasn’t up to a task. Gonzáles seemed to sense this. “Four o’clock,” she said. “I’ll be there. I’ll bring half the money and pay the rest later, after I see the mask.”
    The dealer shook his head. “There is no later with people like this. If you do not bring the full amount, he will sell it to someone else. Such people lack patience. You can imagine why.”
    â€œBut it’s not safe to carry—”
    â€œIf you want safe, go to the Zona Rosa and pay a hundred times as much. The mask is affordable because your father is buying it
first
. Naturally, there are risks.” Gonzáles sat back, making room for his stomach. “Bring me the mask after, and I will make a full report for you.”
    â€œHaven’t you already—?”
    â€œThe mask must be professionally authenticated and its value assessed. You can’t do that from a photograph. Without documents, you have nothing but a stolen mask.”
    â€œStolen?”
    â€œUnauthenticated. Without provenance. A lost shell on the beach. It cannot be legitimately bought or sold. The mask needs a history. Iwill give it one.” He tapped his pen on the desk. “You work for a living, Miss Ramsey. Besides the book.”
    â€œI’m a fact-checker.”
    â€œI don’t understand.”
    â€œI check information before it goes to print. Make sure everything is accurate.”
    â€œBut your own book was full—”
    â€œOne’s own mistakes are the hardest to see.”
    â€œHow true . . . A fact-checker.” The dealer practiced the expression. “The truth is seldom popular. So you are always honest—with family, friends, relationships.”
    â€œI used to tell the truth,” Anna said. “Now I just keep quiet.”
    The dealer was quiet himself for a moment, then said, “Your father wants revenge.”
    â€œRedemption.”
    â€œYou travel to Mexico, to Tepito, for him.”
    â€œI have