Cold Tuscan Stone Read Free

on the minister you get real cups and silverware, but not here.”
    â€œNo problem, Beppo.” Rick stirred his espresso. “How do you know about the urns showing up on the market?”
    Beppo drank his coffee in one gulp and threw the cup into a wastebasket. “We have our contacts, of course. The office got word that one was on sale in Milano last week, and we sent one of our undercover men there.” He was speaking rapidly now, and gesturing with thick-fingered hands with perfectly manicured fingernails. “Unfortunately the sellers got cold feet at the last minute and disappeared with the urn, but not before our guy had a chance to see it. He swears the piece was genuine.”
    â€œIt could have been fake?”
    â€œThere’s a large market in fakes. That isn’t our priority. Such things are usually handled by the regular police. We’re after the real thing, like that one over there.”
    â€œThat’s stolen?”
    â€œIt was.”
    Rick was curious about how it had turned up in Beppo’s office, but clearly his friend would say no more.
    â€œThese latest urns have all been from Volterra, Rick. Without boring you with details, I’ll say that the type of material, the carving quality, and the iconography all indicate they must have been found in a tomb near that city. So we’ll concentrate our efforts on Volterra. Once pieces leave the country, it is far more difficult to get them back. I received word this morning that one may have surfaced in Bulgaria. That is very disturbing.”
    â€œBut what do I have to do with it?”
    Beppo shifted away from the desk, his jacket opening to show the brightly colored silk tie and tailored shirt. A foulard which matched the tie was casually but carefully tucked into the jacket pocket. His elegant wardrobe indicated that working for the ministry hadn’t cut Beppo off from the profits of the family business.
    â€œThe other day I remembered your connections.”
    Rick was puzzled. Connections? His Italian uncle, the policeman? But how would Beppo have remembered that from high school?
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œWell, your connection with New Mexico.”
    Rick blinked.
    â€œLet me explain.” Beppo opened a drawer and pulled out a small card which he passed across the desk. After reading it, Rick became even more confused.
    â€œA commercial art gallery in Santa Fe? I’ve been there, but now I’m completely lost.” He handed the card back.
    â€œRick, stolen antiquities appear in the Santa Fe art market, mostly from South America, but there is the occasional piece from Italy. We have worked with this dealer in the past, and they have always been very cooperative. I called them yesterday and they agreed to help us again for this case.”
    â€œStill not with you, Beppo.”
    â€œSimply put, Rick, we’d like you go to Volterra and pose as a buyer for the gallery.”
    â€œMe?” Not what Rick had imagined. Not even close. A few documents translated, some interpreting for a visiting English speaker, but not undercover work.
    â€œIt would be like this: You are a friend of the American gallery owner, and since he knows you are now living in Rome, he’s asked you to go up to Tuscany to look into some possible purchases to export back to New Mexico. The gallery’s interested in alabaster pieces, as well as a few fine works of art, especially sculpture in the classical and Etruscan style. All legitimate, of course. You would also carefully leak the news that you might be in the market for some genuine artifacts. Volterra being a relatively small town, the word would get out and you would be approached by the men who have found the tomb with these urns. At least that’s what I think will happen.” Beppo settled back in the chair and watched his friend’s reaction.
    Rick immediately thought of his Uncle Piero. Wouldn’t he love this? As the favorite