“I want you to tell Szász that the codex was a fake. That O’Flaherty tried to cheat him. That the real codex is gone—lost, destroyed, who knows. And I want you to leave my warehouse, my clients, and my ex-husband alone.”
She paid him in used twenties from an envelope. whitney st john cambro
“Of course he will. But the Art Newspaper loves a good Nazi-era restitution story. And I’ve already sent a copy to the FBI’s Art Crime Team, Interpol, and a journalist named Emma Lund, who won a Pulitzer last year for exactly this sort of thing.” “I want you to tell Szász that the codex was a fake
The trouble began not with the codex, but with the Cambro half of her surname. Gerald Cambro, her ex-husband, had built a respectable career in forged Renaissance bronzes before his unfortunate incident with Interpol. Whitney had kept the hyphen because it was good for business; people assumed she was the widow of a minor aristocrat, not the ex-wife of a convicted fraudster. But Gerald, serving his sixth year in HMP Belmarsh, had decided he wanted a reunion. And I want you to leave my warehouse,