Dancing with the Tiger by Lili Wright

Author:Lili Wright
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2016-06-08T16:25:40+00:00

ten ANNA

Inside the cloistered home of Lorenzo Gonzáles, Anna felt miles away from the bustling streets of Oaxaca, the ATMs and tour buses, the commerce of jicama and mangoes. She had hoped the dealer would pronounce his verdict right away, but instead he delivered a windy lecture about the repatriation of antiquities, how “source countries,” like Italy, Greece, and Turkey, were increasingly willing to challenge the predatory practices of “collecting countries,” those with the money and desire to expand museum collections. With all the lawsuits, the major museums were exporting more art than they acquired. Gonzáles made his disdain clear, characterizing the efforts of source countries to recoup lost art as thinly disguised nationalism.

“Maybe Greek museums should only show Greek art?” He gave a large shrug. “Maybe the Metropolitan Museum should give away its whole collection and limit itself to Native American art? Does the international art market encourage looting? Maybe, but there has been looting ever since man invented the shovel. Mexico has eleven thousand archaeological sites. Guard them all? Good luck.”

The telecom tycoon Carlos Slim was his hero. “Richest man in the world. Worth seventy-four billion. Builds his own museum, the Soumaya, named after his wife. Sure, he’s got Orozco, Tamayo, but he buys van Gogh, Matisse, the biggest collection of Rodin sculptures outside France. Why European art? Because most Mexicans cannot afford to go to Europe. So he brings the art to them.” Gonzáles shook his head, impressed. “And what does he get for his efforts? The press rides him like a donkey. Call his collection second-rate. They hate the building. Too shiny. Naco. They are so envious they can only spit.”

Anna kept her eye on the death mask. She didn’t like seeing it on his desk.

Gonzáles picked up a newspaper, batted it with his middle finger. “Another museum was robbed. San Luis Potosí. No alarms. Three Diego Riveras removed. One oil. Two watercolors. The night guard disappeared as well.”

“That’s terrible—

“And now this mask shows up, out of the blue. That’s the expression, right?” Anna nodded. “It has long been rumored a funerary mask was made for Montezuma the Second the day he took power.” His voice dropped. “If authentic, this mask would represent a stunning archaeological discovery. . . . You could sell it to Carlos Slim for the entranceway of the Soumaya. He could put it next to The Thinker.”

Adrenaline washed through Anna’s insides, dangerous, sickening. It was time for something to go right.

Gonzáles beamed. “But unfortunately, I’m afraid, your mask is not that treasure.”

His words slapped Anna’s face.

“It is not a bad little reproduction.” He chuckled. “Actually quite clever.” His pencil pointed. “See the flatness of the nose, the earplugs. This line of red stones represents bloodletting—all signs of royalty. These bumps are cabochons. Nice touch. But with a legitimate pre-Columbian relic, the stones and glue would be older, the cedar wood more decayed. Look at the holes. Too small and even. This mask could fool amateurs, maybe a few collectors. I’ll buy it to show my archaeology students.

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