Crime: To Catch a Thief

Wittman mirrors Flores, an undercover trick he knows will put the man at ease. When Flores sits on the cushiony sofa, ­Wittman sits; when Flores laughs, ­Wittman laughs; when Flores leans in, Wittman follows. It starts to work. After several minutes of small talk — in broken English — Wittman sees Flores visibly relax. He gets down to business. From a manila envelope, he hands Flores a color printout of the stolen artwork that he’s downloaded from the Internet and asks the thief to tell him which paintings are still available. Flores glances at the page.

“Ah, FBI website!” he says.

Wittman freezes, catches his breath. He knows he cut any references to the FBI off the printout — but apparently that wasn’t enough. “Uh, well,” he says. “It’s the only place I could think to find pictures.”

“Yes, yes, good idea.” Flores shrugs, and Wittman realizes with relief that he doesn’t suspect a thing. He silently curses himself for the slip-up, but is also impressed: Flores may be a thug, but he’s done his homework; he knows who’s after him.

After looking through the pictures, Flores agrees to bring Wittman the Brueghel so the Profesor can assure his client it’s real. Worth $4 million, the surrealist work is neither the most valuable in the lot nor the least, and it’s a steal at $1 million, which the “mobster” agrees to pay. If all goes well with that deal, Wittman tells Flores, his client will pay another $9 million for the remaining nine paintings. He sees Flores smile widely, while across from him, his associate leaps up.

“Okay, let’s go,” he says. “We’ll take you to the painting.”

Wittman thinks fast. He knows they can’t leave the hotel, where officers are poised to jump in if anything happens. But he also can’t let them walk away without some sort of arrangement. “No, no, no,” he stammers. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Flores smiles. “Ah, that’s right,” he says. “You are not a professional [criminal]. You’re scared.”

“Yes!” Wittman says. “I’m … too scared to go anywhere.”

Flores nods, then agrees to meet back at the hotel in a couple of days. Wittman can tell the thief is pleased, as though he’s proud to associate with a sophisticate, not a criminal. As he gets up to go, Flores takes Wittman’s hand and whispers to him about another job he hopes they can do together in Amsterdam the following spring, where he plans to steal several van Goghs. “We can make lots of money together,” he says.

He walks away, and Wittman sits back, smiling to himself. He’s done it again.