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didn't budge from the doorstep.
    "I understand how busy you must be, but I assure you I can make it worth your while." He gestured toward the interior of the condo. "Might I come inside to discuss the project with you?"
    Natalie shifted to block his view of the living room, where she'd left her sofa bed unmade that morning.
    "I'm afraid it's a bit of a mess right now... Amis chuckled. "Understood. And I didn't mean to put you on the spot. I only wanted the chance to clarify the ful scope of my offer." He took a piece of paper from the inside pocket of his blazer and unfolded it. "You see, The Scream is only one of many paintings we'd like you to do."
    The typed sheet he handed her listed the titles and artists of more than two dozen masterpieces. The
    Concert by Vermeer, Storm on the Sea of Galilee by Rembrandt, Madonna of the Yarnwinder by da Vinci, Chez Tortoni by Manet...
    Natalie scowled and passed the page back to Amis.
    "These are al the Maven paintings."
    His smile broadened. "Precisely. I'm a producer for Persephone Productions, and we want to make a movie about the artworks' theft and mysterious reappearance."
    "Ahh! I get it." Natalie could easily see Hol ywood exploiting the art world's latest sensation. Stolen over a period of fifteen years, the paintings had, without warning, resurfaced a month ago at the museums from which they'd been taken. Police around the globe stil had no clues as to the identity of the thief, who had puckishly named himself "Arthur Maven," or his motive for returning the priceless works without
    claiming any reward or ransom.
    "We were very impressed with the work you did for The Thomas Crown Affair remake," Amis said, referring to a few Impressionist canvases she'd done for the film's museum-set dressing. "We'd be wil ing to pay handsomely for that kind of authenticity." Natalie shook her head. "That's very kind of you, but I'm afraid--"
    "Half a mil ion."
    The dol ar amount stopped her like a pair of oncoming headlights. Natalie had pursued the underground Violet art trade as a way to remain independent of the Corps while avoiding the il egal and often dangerous freelance conduit gigs that had once sustained her. Although she was glad to make a living using her skil s as a painter, the business had been a constant hustle and hardly lucrative. A thousand here, two thousand there. She hadn't heard a figure with more than four zeroes
    since...
    Since that nutcase Nathan Azure suckered you into going to the godforsaken Andes, she reminded herself. The English tycoon had promised her four hundred
    grand for her help on a Peruvian archaeological dig, only to threaten and starve her in order to force her to find a fortune in Incan gold.
    "That's a very generous offer," Natalie told Carleton Amis, "but I can't oblige you."
    The severity of Amis's gaze belied the warmth of his smile. "Ms. Lindstrom, without these paintings as props, we have no movie."
    "I understand that, but I think you'd be better off using an ordinary reproduction artist--"
    "Absolutely not. We're going to be doing close-ups of al these canvases. If they can't withstand the most minute scrutiny, the whole film fal s apart. That kind of accuracy requires the touch that only the original artists can provide."
    "Of course. That would be ideal." Natalie drew a long breath, sagging against the door frame. Apparently, she'd have to give him the long explanation, after al .
    "What you don't understand is that the original artists don't want to paint works they've already done." Natalie had learned this fact the hard way when one of her first art customers had requested an exact copy of van Gogh's The Starry Night. Vincent became so
    enraged at the crass demand that Natalie was afraid he would cut her ear off, and she had to evict him with her protective mantra until his temper cooled.
    For the first time, her refusal seemed to disconcert Amis. "But your Thomas Crown works--"
    "Were al originals. The director didn't need copies of