Read Online The Wild Beasts of Wuhan by Ian Hamilton - Free Book Online Page B

Brian,” he said, without getting up.
    “And I’m Ava.”
    “Your accent — I can’t place it. Certainly not Hong Kong English.”
    “I’m Canadian.”
    “The Wongs reach out to a young Canadian woman? The mystery deepens.”
    “I’m hardly mysterious.”
    “But you are here to talk about the paintings?”
    “Exactly.”
    “Quite a problem.”
    “So it seems.”
    The waiter interrupted them. “I’ve ordered sparkling water, unless you want something stronger,” Torrence said.
    “That’s perfect.”
    “I recommend the antipasto, and they make a damn fine Caesar. And the brick-oven pizza isn’t half bad.”
    “Then why don’t you order for both of us,” she said.
    After the waiter had taken their order, Torrence turned back to Ava and said, “The first thing you have to tell me, Ava, is what do you know about this apparent mess we’ve unearthed?”
    “Virtually nothing.”
    “So you aren’t you in the art business?”
    “No, I’m an accountant.”
    “I don’t mean to sound rude, but why would the Wongs hire an accountant to help out with this problem? Do you have extra qualifications in the art field?”
    “None whatsoever. I barely know anything at all about art.”
    He chewed on a breadstick. “I don’t understand.”
    “The Wongs have been defrauded of many millions of dollars. My company specializes in finding out who did it and where the money is. We then do what we can to recover as much money as possible. It doesn’t make any difference to us if we’re dealing with computer parts, shrimp, textiles, or paintings.”
    “But if you know nothing about the art world, how do you even know where to begin?”
    “That’s why I’m here. You’re my beginning.”
    “Ah, silly me.”
    “Do you have plans for this afternoon?” she asked.
    “If I did, I imagine they’ve just changed.”
    “I like perceptive men,” she said.
    Their food came all at once and the conversation dwindled. Ava waited until the pizza was almost gone before taking out her notebook. “Can we stay here to talk?”
    “I don’t see why not. But if we do, I expect you to buy me something stronger than sparkling water.”
    “Whatever you want.”
    “They have a brilliant Chianti.”
    “Order away.”
    She passed on the wine, which didn’t seem to bother Torrence. He downed one glass quickly and was halfway through a second by the time the table was cleared.
    “I need to understand how it’s possible for the Wongs to end up with all of those fakes. Wong isn’t a stupid man. He isn’t an art expert but he does seem to know a lot about the Fauvists. And then there’s that man Kwong. They seem to think he may have had nothing to do with it, that he was as much a dupe as they were. So explain to me, how does something like this happen?”
    “Something like this, as you say, happens all the time. Art galleries and museums throughout the world are filled with forgeries and fakes of all kinds — pictures, sculptures, antiquities — but not many people want to talk about it. No one wants to look stupid. No one wants to devalue their collection.”
    “Let’s stick to the paintings. Wong Changxing wanted to sell the Monet, so let’s concentrate specifically on that piece. When he bought it, why wouldn’t he have known it was a copy? Surely there has to be a record of it somewhere.”
    “It wasn’t a copy,” Torrence said.
    “What do you mean?”
    “It was an original painting.”
    “I don’t understand.”
    “Someone painted water lilies in the style of Monet. There is absolutely nothing wrong with that unless you try to pass it off as a Monet. Until it’s signed Monet the painting is actually paying homage to the original artist; after it’s signed, it’s a fake and a criminal offence.”
    “In the style of?”
    “Yes, like most of the rest of the Wongs’ pictures.”
    “But when you say ‘in the style of,’ how many water lilies paintings are there?”
    “That’s where it gets a bit