"Victor Harlow," Neal read. "He collects art. Badly. He bought a 'lost' Caravaggio last year for twelve million. It was a fake—my fake, actually. He never noticed."
"Your Caravaggio is a copy," Neal whispered to Harlow over champagne. "I can prove it. And I can sell you a map that makes that painting look like a napkin sketch. Ten million. Cash."
Harlow raised a silenced pistol. "Because I'm not a collector. I'm a cleaner. And you just led the FBI to a vault full of evidence against my competitors. Thank you for your service." CRIMES.DO.COLARINHO.BRANCO.1--TEMPORADA.DUBLADO
Harlow's eyes glittered. "Why me?"
"Which is?"
"Agent Reyes," Neal said, tilting his head. "I was expecting the usual—a dim room, a single lightbulb. This coffee is excellent. A new tactic?"
Neal's heart stopped. "Then why let me in?" "Victor Harlow," Neal read
On the third night, as Neal presented the forged map in Harlow's vault, the financier smiled.