Page 73 of Kings of Sherwood

“Basically. Not likeyouguys are ever much help.” He turns to the kid. “You turn anything up?”

Nick nods, cheeks flushed. “I found this,” he says, flipping the screen around to show Tuck a spreadsheet I can’t make out. “See—work, artist, appraised value.”

“An art auction,” Tuck says. “Maybe some people bring checks, sure, but...”

“Figures,” LJ mutters. “What’s the point of being rich if you can’t show it off on your walls?”

“Or use it for tax loopholes,” Tuck says, scrolling.

I shift in my seat. “How does that work, exactly? Is it just like...they buy expensive art pieces as a way to hide assets, or something?”

“Not quite,” Tuck says, looking up. “It’s more like—”

“I can tell her,” Nick says softly, gripping his laptop. He looks like he’s waiting for permission, to be called on by the teacher. Which Tuck does.

“Sure.”

Nick nods rapidly. “So, like, if you donate stuff to charity, you can deduct it from your taxable income, right?”

I nod. Me, personally? I’ve never had the money to spare. But I know what he means. “Sure.”

“Yeah. So. It’s supposed to be like, one in, one out. You donate ten dollars, your income goes down by ten dollars. But art and stuff works different. Because like, who’s to say what a statue is worth?”

I open my mouth, but Nick answers for me.

“Well, I’ll tell you. An art appraiser. And those guys”—he gestures so hard the laptop nearly falls off his legs, color rising in his cheeks—“will just say a piece is worth however much you want, basically.”

“For their cut of it,” Tuck puts in. “Or as a...personal favor.”

“Yeah. Yeah. So you get to tell the government,oh, I donated this ten million dollar paintingor whatever—”

“Probably notthatmuch,” Tuck amends.

“—and get to claim that much. Even if you only paid like, a hundred bucks for it.” Nick blinks. “Wild shit, right?”

I try not to laugh. “It is...very wild shit,” I agree.

“A legal little pump and dump,” Will says. “But with Modiglianis instead of penny stocks.”

“Nice work,” Tuck whispers to Nick. Nick nods, and hands over the laptop.

“There’s gonna be alotof stuff there,” he says. “Like, a few dozen pieces at least for the live auction, and—”

“We’ll hit it.” Rob spins around, suddenly animated—although serious. He stands. “I’ll get Jack to help with the cover. Show up, maybe the service entrance, and—”

“No,” Will says, waving his hands. “Rob,no. What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about a job?” Rob says, incredulous. “The kind of shit we always do? Our bread and butter?”

Will blinks at him. “Are you insane? The Club,now?That’s the dumbest fucking thing I’ve ever heard. You’re joking.” He looks at Tuck, LJ, me. “He’s joking, right?”

“Yeah, Rob, I dunno,” Tuck puts in. “I pulled all the stuff for a little practice due diligence, but—”

“Dumb idea,” LJ agrees, arms folded.

“Oh, okay.” Rob narrows his eyes. “My mistake. I thought I was talking to some of the most accomplished criminals on the Eastern fuckin’ Seaboard.”

“Yeah,” Will says, “andwe’retalking to the most wanted man in Sherwood—”

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