Marko smiled, despite the danger. "You always were impatient, Viktor. But the map isn't on the canvas. It's in the pigment." The mystery had only just begun.
But as the woman stepped forward to claim her prize, the lights flickered and died. A muffled struggle echoed through the hall. When the emergency generators kicked in moments later, the lady in red lay unconscious, and the painting was gone.
He realized the "anonymous tip" was a test. The Ghost wasn't after the map; he was after the man who could decode it. As Marko turned to leave, he felt the cold press of a barrel against the back of his neck.