Among Thieves

Chapter Thirty

Finn shifted his feet as he and Kozlowski sat alone in the conference room at the heart of the FBI’s offices in Boston. Talking to Kozlowski’s trusted FBI contact made Finn nervous. Talking to an FBI agent neither of them had ever met made him nauseous. He and Kozlowski knew about a kidnapping and they hadn’t reported it to the police or to the FBI. They were already arguably guilty of obstruction of justice. In addition, his client had participated in the robbery at the Gardner Museum -the very crime about which they were asking questions. Just having the conversation with the FBI agents was putting them all at risk, and Finn didn’t like it.

He was still fretting when Hewitt walked back in, another man behind him. It would have been difficult to imagine two more physically different people. Hewitt was huge, with a massive upper body and giant hands. Porter was tiny, with shoulders pinched at the top and a neck that looked too thin to support his head. His hands were wiry and small. Finn guessed his age in the mid-fifties, and he had a disdainful look that made him resemble a British filing clerk.

“Gentlemen,” the second man said. “I’m Special Agent Porter, in charge of the FBI’s Art Theft Program. Special Agent Hewitt tells me you are looking for information about art theft. Specifically the Gardner Museum theft.”

“Yes,” Kozlowski said. “I’m Tom Kozlowski. This is Scott Finn, he’s an attorney.”

Porter remained standing. “May I ask what your interest in the Gardner theft is?”

“We can’t answer that right now,” Kozlowski said.

Porter looked at Hewitt and Hewitt shrugged. “Special Agent Hewitt speaks very highly of you, Detective. That carries some weight in my book. Perhaps we can talk for a little while? There is always the chance that you’ll develop the same trust in me that you have in him.” Porter spoke like a college professor. His diction was perfect, and there was a hint of an upper-class accent. He spoke slowly and chose his words carefully. “So what is it you want to know about the theft?”

“You were in the Boston office when the Gardner was hit?” Kozlowski asked. “You were one of the agents originally assigned to the case?”

“Yes. I have been involved in the investigation from the beginning.”

“At the time, were you also working with the organized crime unit in Boston?”

“Yes.”

“Did you work with John Connolly at all?” It was a pointed question, the implications of which could not be overlooked.

“That’s out of line, Koz!” Hewitt protested.

“No, no, Robert,” Porter said. “It’s a fair question.” He smiled. “I did work on cases involving organized crime in the eighties and nineties, Mr. Kozlowski. But I had no involvement with the tainted informant program. I was involved in the prosecution of the Angiulo offshoot of the Patriarca family that resulted from the information disclosed by Mr. Bulger and others, but I never ran any of my own informants. And I never had any idea where we were getting our information. Agent Connolly kept that information to himself. As a result, I never had the opportunity to become involved in anything untoward. Believe me, it was an issue that was seriously weighed by the Bureau before it approved the funding for the Art Theft Program.”

“I’m sure it was.”

“And, as you can see, they still saw fit to put me in charge of the new division. That should give you some comfort.”

“Should it?”

Porter smiled. “You don’t strike me as the kind of a man who likes to waste time, Detective,” he said. “Assuming that to be the case, you must have a very good reason to come all the way up here to ask questions about the Gardner Museum, yes?”

Kozlowski leaned forward in his chair. “We understand that there was recently an offer made to sell the paintings,” he said, turning back to Porter. “Is that right?”

Porter shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I compliment you on not beating around the bush, Detective. Where did you come by that information?”

“From the director at the museum. Baxter. Is it true?”

Porter looked as though he were sucking on a lemon. Finn guessed he was either angry or constipated. “Under what circumstances did Mr. Baxter tell you this?” he asked.

“No circumstances,” Kozlowski said. “We had some questions about the theft.”

Porter wasn’t done with the lemon yet. He folded his hands together and looked down at them. “In any conversation I had with Mr. Baxter, I indicated that he was to keep any information to himself,” he said. “It is crucial to the case. You understand my surprise at the notion that he would have just blurted this out to you, Mr. Kozlowski.”

“Maybe you should have been clearer with him,” Kozlowski said.

“Perhaps. You didn’t, by any chance, represent yourselves as law-enforcement officers, or give Mr. Baxter reason to think you were officially connected in some way to the investigation, did you?”

“We never represented ourselves as anything we weren’t,” Kozlowski said. “I showed my private investigator’s license to the woman at the desk. You’ll have to ask Baxter what he believed. It’s true, though?” Kozlowski pushed. “There has been an offer to sell the paintings?”

Porter cleared his throat. “These paintings have been missing for nearly twenty years. They are the most valuable pieces of stolen art in the world-worth an estimated five hundred million dollars. I’m going to need more information from you if I’m going to continue this conversation.”

“What do you need?” Kozlowski asked.

“First and foremost, I need a reason to believe you two have something to offer me. I need a reason to believe you aren’t full of bullshit.”

Kozlowski turned to Finn. “Your call.”

Finn thought about it for a moment. “A client of mine who may have information that would be helpful to the investigation,” he said at last. “He’s got a problem you may be helpful in solving. If we could work a trade, would you be interested?”

“I might be,” Porter said. “What can he offer?”

“Under the right circumstances, he might be able to offer a lot.”

“Is he directly connected to the theft?”

“I can’t go there yet. Not without knowing what you can offer in return.”

Porter closed his eyes in thought for a moment. “Let’s handle it this way: I’ll talk to you generally about the theft and the things that are well known. I won’t discuss the specifics of the investigation, though. Not without more information from you.”

“Fair enough,” Kozlowski said.

Porter cleared his throat. “I assume you know the basics about how the thieves tricked the guards to gain access?” Finn and Kozlowski nodded. “Once inside, it was an easy job. The museum had virtually no security systems in place, and the thieves were able to spend close to an hour and a half in the place. In many ways, it was the perfect robbery. In other ways, it was a mess.”

“How was it a mess?” Kozlowski asked.

“Well, first, the mixture of art that was stolen was very odd. Several of the paintings stolen were exceptionally valuable. Vermeer’s The Concert, for example, is one of the most valuable paintings ever stolen. Similarly, Rembrandt’s Storm on the Sea of Galilee is an exceptional work, worth nearly as much as the Vermeer. It was the only seascape known to be painted by the Dutch master. Other paintings by Flinck and Degas were worth less, but still justified the effort. Some of the other works taken were comparatively worthless, though. It doesn’t really make sense. It is as though the thieves had some good information, and some bad information.”

“Are there any theories as to where the paintings are now?” Finn asked.

Porter looked at him. “Hundreds. We have chased over ten thousand tips, to no avail. There are more theories about who did this and why than there are police officers in Boston. No one has gotten it right yet, and the paintings have still not been found.”

“Do you have a favorite theory?” Kozlowski asked.

Porter considered the question. “I do. And I might share it with you if I had reason to believe you had legitimate information to give to me.” No one said anything. “I need more, gentlemen. Otherwise I can’t continue.”

“There were two men involved,” Finn said after a moment. “One had a list of the valuable paintings. The other didn’t know anything about art; he was just the entry man. He took advantage of the opportunity. That’s why some of what was stolen seemed worthless.”

“Your client?” Finn said nothing, and Porter smiled. “Of course. That would explain a lot. And it fits with some of the information we have.”

Finn felt as though he’d been taken. “So? Where do you think the paintings are now?” Finn demanded.

“I think the paintings are still here in Boston,” Porter said.

“Why?”

“You see,” Porter said, “first you have to try to get into the head of the person who planned this. To do that, you have to understand both the nature of the art theft industry and the psychology of the art thief.”

“Industry?” Finn said. “Can it really be called an industry?”

“Depends on what you consider an industry, Mr. Finn. We estimate stolen art to run in the range of six billion dollars a year.” Kozlowski let out an astonished whistle. “That’s according to the United Nations. It’s probably more. In terms of economics and volume, the illicit trade in art and cultural property ranks second only to the drug trade.”

“How do they move it all?”

“That’s the rub,” Porter said. “It’s become very difficult to move paintings and artwork in recent years. Art isn’t like most other commodities. It is, by its very nature, identifiable. Twenty or even ten years ago, that wasn’t much of a problem. A painting could be stolen in one country, held for a number of years and then sold in another country. Often the buyer would have no idea that the work was stolen at all. Many countries have laws that allow such an ‘innocent’ buyer to keep the painting even if it is later discovered to be a stolen work. However, using the Internet, law-enforcement agencies now cooperate with most of the world’s major art galleries and auction houses, and we have developed a catalogue of stolen art that is so comprehensive that it’s become difficult for any buyer to ‘accidentally’ buy a work that’s been stolen. Plus, the laws in most countries either have been or are in the process of being changed such that the purchaser must prove a reasonable provenance-a chain of authenticity and legal custody-in order to retain ownership. There has also been such an onslaught of lawsuits from people to recover stolen works going back even to World War II and the Holocaust, that the cost of buying or selling stolen art has become very often too high.”

“So why would anyone steal art?” Kozlowski asked. “Seems like it’s a lot of work for relatively little gain.”

“One would think so,” Porter said. “But the relative risk for thieves is still often well worth it. First of all, the dangers involved are low compared with other illegal activities. Much of the art in the world is held in private collections-in houses and estates-which have little or no real security. Even many of the museums in the world are minimally protected. The criminal penalties for art theft also tend to be significantly more lenient than those for other lucrative illegal activities-like trading in drugs or weapons. Finally, even if the paintings are difficult to fence, there are other ways to collect. Some are ransomed back to the museums. Even at a fraction of their value, the transaction can net the thieves millions. They hit museums or private residences and then offer to return the paintings for the insurance money.”

“Why didn’t that happen in this case?”

“The Gardner Museum was uninsured. It’s a private institution with one of the largest collections in the United States. At the time, they viewed the cost of insurance premiums as prohibitively expensive.”

“They had no insurance?” Finn was incredulous.

“None,” Porter replied. “That’s probably why no demand was made. Insurance is usually necessary for any institution to pay a ransom. In theory, there are other ways the thieves can profit. The theft could have been commissioned by some wealthy client with a fetish for these particular works. Or the works may have been collateralized in connection with other criminal activities.”

“I don’t understand,” Finn said.

“Stolen artwork has become a second currency among criminals. It’s traded as collateral for purchases of weapons or drugs. Art is often easier to transport than huge sums of cash, and makes transfers easier. In addition, drug and arms dealers are looking for ways to invest their enormous illegal profits. Stolen art is one place where they can plow huge sums of money.”

“But you don’t think that happened with the artwork stolen from the Gardner?”

Porter shook his head. “I don’t think so. It is possible, of course. Perhaps they are hanging right now on the wall of some grand mansion of one of the world’s great crime figures-sort of a real-life version of James Bond’s Dr. No. I think it’s too romantic a notion, though.”

“What makes you believe the paintings are still here, in Boston?”

Porter laughed bitterly. “Perhaps I’m just an optimist. I still have hope.”

“Why?”

“Because this is Boston,” Porter said. “In 1990, most crime in Boston was run by Whitey Bulger. He was at the height of his power. Nothing like this happened in Boston without his involvement. So I start with the assumption that Bulger was tied in. But it’s equally clear to me that Bulger didn’t plan this job himself.”

“Too complicated for him?” Kozlowski asked.

“It’s not the complication factor,” Porter responded. “It’s the subject matter. Bulger was a smart man, smart enough to recognize that this was outside of his area of expertise. Plus, it’s not clear that he would have had a good idea of how to move these effectively unless he already had a buyer.”

“So the question is, who was the buyer,” Kozlowski commented.

“Well, yes and no. In fact, it’s fairly obvious who the buyer would have been.”

“Who?”

“The IRA,” Porter said. “At the time, the Republican movement was the most active group in art theft. They were linked to dozens of high-profile thefts in the late eighties and early nineties throughout the United Kingdom and Europe. It was how the movement supported much of its paramilitary activities.”

“Terrorism,” Kozlowski corrected him.

“Yes,” Porter agreed. “Terrorism. There are those-particularly in Boston -who would take issue with that characterization, but I certainly don’t disagree. They funded a large portion of their operations with money made from the theft of precious art.”

Finn shook his head. “Art buying bullets. Ironic.”

“Ironic, perhaps,” Porter said, “but hardly surprising or unusual. Artwork has often played a significant role in funding terrorist activity-still does today. Consider Iraq. According to intelligence estimates, the artwork looted from the Iraqi museums after the American invasion is still providing a significant percentage of the revenue used by the terrorists there to fund their campaigns. Hitler made the capitalization of plundered art a centerpiece of his plans. Even as far back as the Greeks and Romans stolen art was used to fund insurrections and massive armies on both sides of virtually every dispute in history.”

“And you think the IRA sold the Gardner Museum paintings?”

Porter crossed his arms. “It feels like I’ve been doing most of the talking. That doesn’t seem quite fair. It’s clear that you have a client who claims to have been one of the men who pulled the robbery off.”

“I can’t officially confirm that for the purposes of this meeting,” Finn said.

Porter rolled his eyes. “How quaint. We’re going to go through the absurd charade of using hypotheticals? Fine. Hypothetically, why would your client come forward at this point? What’s happened now? Is he afraid that someone is selling the paintings out from under him?”

Finn shook his head. “I don’t think he even knew that someone was trying to sell the paintings. But the other man involved in the robbery must have found out, and he’s come back.”

“Come back? Come back from where?” Porter asked. Then he smiled again and answered his own question. “ Ireland.”

Finn just stared at him.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Finn, I’m not looking for an admission to use in court. It makes sense, though. The IRA was successful in the art theft business, but they got too greedy in this case. This was the greatest art theft in history. There was no insurance to provide a ransom, and within hours, it was international news. It would have been virtually impossible for them to sell the paintings on the open market. They would have had to sit on them for a long time. Like twenty years. Even if those in the IRA had wanted to get the paintings, it would have been problematic with their organization crumbling and Bulger on the run. It would also have been difficult to move the paintings, so they most likely remained here in Boston.”

“But now someone is trying to sell them,” Kozlowski said. “That would probably get those who were once in the IRA pretty pissed off.”

“So it appears,” Porter said. “I assume you gentlemen have heard about the untimely demise of Vincent Murphy and Eddie Ballick? Of course you have. And if your hypothetical client is tied in with all this, he can’t be feeling too comfortable right now, can he?”

Finn and Kozlowski looked at each other, and Kozlowski raised his eyebrows.

Porter reached into a file he had brought with him into the room and pulled out a picture. It was the face of a man Finn had never seen before, but it fit the description Lissa had given them of the man who’d attacked her and kidnapped Sally. He had dark hair and black eyes that stared into the camera with an evil, lifeless gaze. “Have you seen this man before?”

Finn shook his head. No,” he said honestly. “Who is he?”

“His name is Liam Kilbranish,” Porter said. “He is a former IRA operative. Our terrorism task force picked up information from their British counterparts recently that he fled Ireland, headed to the US.”

“I thought the IRA was dead,” Finn said.

“It is,” Porter said. “The ceasefire was reached under the Good Friday Agreement in 1998. There were years of negotiations that followed, with the major sticking point being the process of disarming all paramilitary organizations in Northern Ireland, including the IRA. In 2005, the IRA finally capitulated, and international weapons inspectors verified the decommissioning of the IRA’s arsenal. By late 2006 the independent monitoring commission ruled that the IRA was no longer a threat.”

“But that’s not the whole story?” Finn asked.

“It never is, is it?” Porter said. “This is a struggle that went on for more than three quarters of a century. Most of those involved in the fight have been willing to put down their arms and work to maintain the peace. That’s a significant achievement.”

“But not all?” Finn said. He pointed to the picture. “Not him?”

“As with any cause, there will always be those few who refuse to accept anything but total victory. There is a small cadre of former IRA operatives who are still looking to ruin the peace and begin the fighting all over again. Kilbranish is one of them. His family was killed when he was a boy.”

“Why was he headed to the United States?” Finn asked.

“I think you can figure that out,” Porter said. “Kilbranish is known for two things: his brutality, and his skill as an art thief. If he thought there was a way to recover the Gardner paintings, he wouldn’t hesitate. The IRA has no weapons and no money. If the troubles are to start fresh, they would need an enormous influx of cash. Our informants tell us that once the offer to sell the paintings was made, this group of IRA leftovers paid a hundred thousand dollars for confirmation that the offer was genuine. They received that confirmation.”

“How?”

“Paint chips and dated photographs. The photographs could be doctored, but the paint chips can be tested to provide a reasonable degree of certainty. It looks as though the offer was genuine.”

“So these people are going to buy the art back?” Finn asked.

Porter laughed. “Hardly. They have no more to pay. Besides, if our theories are right, Kilbranish was involved in the original theft. He would view the paintings as rightfully his. He’s here to bring the paintings back his own way.”

There was silence for a moment. Finn wished there were windows in the conference room; he felt as though the walls were closing in on him.

“Let me be very clear, Mr. Finn: if your client helped Kilbranish rob the Gardner, and Kilbranish doesn’t have the paintings now, your client is a dead man. You know what he did to Murphy and Ballick. He’ll do the same to your client. Of course, you already know that, don’t you? Otherwise you wouldn’t be here. He needs to come in. We can help him.”

Finn thought about Sally in the hands of the man Porter was describing. It made him feel sick. “He can’t come in.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” Finn said.

“If he’s worried about being prosecuted for the robbery, I’m sure we can work something out on that. Particularly if the paintings are recovered.” Porter was practically drooling, and Finn saw Hewitt shoot a questioning look toward him.

“It’s not that,” Finn said. “Although some sort of an agreement that he wouldn’t be prosecuted would be needed. There are other considerations, though.”

“Like what?” Porter demanded. “If he doesn’t come in, he’ll be dead in a matter of days. It’s that simple.”

“I wish it was that simple.” Finn took out a card and handed it to him. “Let me think about it and we may be back in touch.”

Porter reached into his jacket and pulled out two cards of his own. He handed Finn and Kozlowski each one. “I hope you will be.” He walked over to the door and opened it for them. Just as they got to the door, though, he closed it slightly, blocking their path. “There is one thing you should explain to your hypothetical client, Mr. Finn,” he said. “If he does not come forward, and we find him… all bets are off. I have no doubt in those circumstances that the Justice Department will bring its full weight to bear on him and anyone else involved.”

Finn looked at Porter. When they stood next to each other the size difference was striking, and yet the FBI agent no longer seemed small. There was an intensity to him that was intimidating. “I understand, Agent Porter. I’ll keep that in mind.”