![]() ![]() Stefano, one of the museum’s curators, was not above accepting such a bribe his wife’s escalating medical bills threatened to evict them from their small apartment. He had come with a sizable payment, bonded cashier notes. The Egyptian, financed by his government, wished it returned to his homeland. ![]() The Egyptian had come to the Museo Archeologico searching for a specific bit of antiquity. The first time the man had approached Stefano he had claimed to be an archaeology student out of Budapest, representing an old friend and colleague from the University of Athens. The man was now dressed in a dark suit that flowed like oil from his wide, sharp shoulders. ![]() He had spotted the young Egyptian with the black eyes and trimmed beard as he’d entered the far side of the square. The piazza’s pigeons scattered from his path as he stumbled through them, heedless of their flapping flight. His steps became more rushed as he passed by the basilica. Not even such a blessed sanctuary could offer him protection. But this most lofty of all of Venice’s landmarks, with its towering Byzantine facade, massive bronze horses, and domed cupolas, was not his goal. The morning sun already baked the stones of the piazza, and the usual throng of tourists sought shady spots or crowded the gelato shop that lay within the shadow of St. Stefano Gallo hurried across the open plaza square. EXPOSURE 1 Dark Madonna JULY 1, 10:34 A.M. ![]()
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