“Late fifteenth or early sixteenth century.”
“Support?”
“Wood panel.”
“What type of wood, please?”
“Does it matter?”
“It might, yes.”
“Walnut.”
“The painting is Northern European in origin?”
“Milan.”
“I see. And the artist?”
Van de Velde exchanged a look with Franco Tedeschi before answering. “Leonardo da Vinci.”
Ménard gave a skeptical smile. “I’m no expert, but I’m quite certain there are no pictures by Leonardo currently on the market.”
“This is a newly discovered work.”
“Is that so? And where was it discovered, please?”
“In Amsterdam.”
“That’s a long way from Milan.”
“So is Paris, monsieur. But that’s where theMona Lisaended up.”
“Touché.” Ménard looked down at the transport case. “Open it, please.”
Van de Velde, after a moment’s hesitation, flipped the latches and lifted the cover. Ménard contemplated the painting without expression. At length he said, “It’s extraordinary. But I rather doubt it’s genuine. After all, there are only nineteen known works by Leonardo in existence.”
“There are now twenty,” said the Dutch art dealer.
“You are no doubt aware, Monsieur Van de Velde, that we had a rather serious forgery scandal here in France a few years ago involving Old Master paintings. They were of such high quality that they fooled even the experts at the Louvre. To be honest, we’re still cleaning up the mess.”
“Rest assured, monsieur, this painting is no forgery.”
“Are you the owner?”
It was Franco Tedeschi who answered. “The painting is owned by my bank.”
“SBL PrivatBank of Lugano?”
“That’s correct.”
“And the potential buyer?”
“He wishes to remain anonymous.”
“Is he French?”
“Yes.”
