Her advisor wasn't kidding when he told her to hurry with preparations for the unforeseen trip. Reine barely had time to say an apologetic farewell to Gabe, rush home to throw a few clothes into a travel bag, and hop back into her car to drive to the airport. Even then, she narrowly made it to the international check-in before it closed.

Iverson often travelled to far off destinations, providing private patrons and public institutions with his expertise regarding artwork; however, this was the first time he'd taken her along. On this occasion, it was to analyze a possibly unknown Old Master, and her inclusion both puzzled and excited Reine.

The overnight flight from Washington to Rome was comfortable enough because the professor managed to get them on Business class. Their short connection into Venice's Marco Polo International Airport, on the other hand, was plagued with turbulence, and Reine couldn't wait to touch solid ground again. Unfortunately, she wasn't able to enjoy the feeling for too long.

Traveling on the canals was the only way to get around the many islands making up the waterlogged city. Although Reine suggested taking the slow and steady water bus, the professor insisted on finding the fastest mode of transportation available.

Plopping his bag on the floor of a sleek motorboat, he yelled to be heard over the loud roar of the water taxi's engine. "Piazza San Marco, per favore!"

The driver leaned on the throttle and maneuvered away from the dock. The salty spray of the Venetian Lagoon dampened Reine's face before she retreated into the safety of the enclosed cabin. "We're not stopping by the hotel first?" she asked.

Following her inside, the tall, African American academic continued to shout while confirming the few details she already knew. "There's no time to lose. It's already mid-afternoon, and if we hope to make any determination as to the origins of that painting by tomorrow's auction, we must start immediately," he said.

Reine sighed, knowing he was right. As the mainland gradually disappeared outside the window, a chill ran through her. They were on familiar ground now. Just southwest of the airport was where her body had most likely washed ashore after she drowned five hundred years earlier.

It still would have been nice to at least have a refreshing shower before determining whether a piece of art was worth just thousands or perhaps millions of dollars. However, dissuading Professor Iverson was impossible. There was no use in even trying because - just like her - if he got something in his mind, he was unstoppable. Therefore, she did her best to ignore her swelling anxiety regarding the bumpy ride and instead focused on the intricate patterns of the cabin's wood interior.

The boat wound through the Grand Canal toward the old city center and Saint Mark's Square. Nearing their destination, their speed decreased while rounding the final corner of the canal before the open waters of the Adriatic Sea.

Peeking through the window, Reine caught sight of the Campanile. The watch tower's roof was adorned with a weathervane of the Archangel Gabriel, making her smile.

The driver cut the engine, and the boat hit the side of the Piazza's dock with a thud. Iverson couldn't contain his excitement, and he was practically out of the vessel before it had come to a stop. For a man in his late fifties who often used the excuse of a bad back to get out of personally returning his stacks of borrowed books to the university's library, he showed remarkable energy out in the field.

Reine was still contemplating on how best to climb up from the boat to the dock when he called back down to her. "Miss Baldwin, could you be a dear and pay the man? I'm afraid I haven't exchanged any money yet."

That's what I'm here for, she thought while fumbling through her bag looking for the envelope of Euros she had the foresight of getting at the airport.

A few minutes later, she was still quietly cursing both the professor for finding a twenty minute ride that cost one-hundred Euros, as well as the taxi driver who claimed he wasn't able to provide her with a receipt. Luckily, Iverson hadn't run off without her, and he reached down to grab Reine's elbow, pulling her up beside him.

The familiar, yet almost unreal scene in front of her was mesmerizing.

They had docked right between two monumental columns, which welcomed seafaring visitors to Venice. Reine had expected the square to be at least partially under water because Venice had a notorious problem with winter flooding for centuries. However, the city's new mobile flood barrier system seemed to be working against the dreaded aqua alta. Thanks to this, people - including those dressed in elaborate, matching period costumes - could now safely stroll the square.

Apparently, this year's Carnevale was already underway.

Iverson cut across the Piazzetta and headed toward the Palazzo Ducale. Still hoping he would relent and agree to first stop at their hotel, Reine dallied for as long as she could. When he disappeared through a massive portico, she had to follow.

The sun cast a golden glow on the marble arches crowning the loggias around the palace's enclosed quadrangle, and a few tourists eagerly snapped photographs to capture the moment. Passing them, Reine and the professor headed toward a door on the eastern façade, which led to the museum located within the sprawling building.

Once inside, they climbed a grand staircase carpeted in luxurious red velvet and carved out of the same grey marble as the exterior of the building. Even in this secondary entrance, the upper wall and ceiling were richly decorated with magnificent scenes of saints and cherubs floating among ethereal clouds.

Her professional expertise was focused on such examples of fine art, so Reine knew how much skill and effort went into their creation. She appreciated such grandeur even more than the average person, and this stairway was no exception.

Suddenly, a heavily accented voice echoed from the top of the stairs. "My friends! I am so happy you have made it."

It was a bit strange being addressed so warmly by a man she'd never met, but her apprehension dissipated as she took the last few steps to the second floor lobby.

"Welcome Dr. Iverson. I am Vincenzo Alberti, Director of the Palazzo Museum." The burly man with coal black hair who had invited them to Venice vigorously shook hands with the professor and grinned from ear to ear.

Turning to Reine, he kissed her hand. "Buona sera, Miss Baldwin. It is a pleasure to meet you."

"Signore, the portrait please," the professor pleaded, not even trying to hide his anxiety at finally getting to see the reason for his trip.

A brief shadow of annoyance appeared on Alberti's face, signaling his disappointment in skipping through the expected formalities. However, it faded quickly, and he dutifully turned to lead Professor Iverson through the door behind him.

"This way, it's-," Alberti was saying before Reine stepped to his side.

"Signore Alberti, if I could just have a moment."

Widening his eyes, Alberti gently pushed the professor toward the farthest corner of the large gallery they were standing in. "It's the last frame on the left."

As Iverson rushed past the dozens of masterpieces lining the incredibly high walls, Reine - still lingering in the doorway - turned toward Alberti. "May I ask you a quick question?"

He smiled. "But of course, Signorina."

"Why is it so urgent to authenticate this portrait tonight?" she asked.

The director frowned. "Well, you see, the painting's owner is having, how do you say, sudden financial difficulties? I do not know the details, of course, but he insists we sell it at tomorrow's auction for whatever we can get for it."

She frowned. "Oh, so it doesn't belong to the museum?"

"Unfortunately, no." He scratched his chin. "But we are very interested in buying it. We do not have anything in our permanent collection that would rival it, but there is something that does come close. I believe you're a fan of Bosch, are you not?"

"How do you know that?" His reference to the artist she coincidentally mentioned just the day before caught her attention.

"Well, who isn't? But I'm quite familiar with your publications, Miss Baldwin. I am sure I read it in one of your fascinating articles. Although he wasn't one of our own Masters, he certainly had influence on the Italian Renaissance. So if I am right, then you will want to take a look at this." He led her to multiple panels hanging side by side on an adjacent wall. "One of our most treasured holdings: Visions of the Hereafter."

Reine stopped in front of a series of four large paintings. For some reason, the second one was always her favorite; it depicted angels carrying the worthy souls of the dead up towards Heaven.

"It's also known as Cardinal Grimani's Altarpiece, correct? Yes, I know it well."

She was about to lean in to more fully examine the work when Professor Iverson yelled out with excitement.

"Miss Baldwiiiiin!"

Reine and Vincenzo Alberti hurried to his side. "What is it Professore?"

After seeing the small painting hanging in front of him, Reine didn't have to wait for the professor's answer to know what had caused his trepidation. Barely larger than a standard sheet of copy paper, it was a half-portrait showing the left side of a young woman in typical Renaissance garb. Her strawberry blonde hair was pulled back with golden ribbon, forming a long ponytail that originated at the nape of her neck. Her large eyes stared into the unseen distance ahead of her, while her nose and mouth looked almost too small for her face.

"I'm sorry for the outburst, but I just wasn't expecting to see this. I mean to see you." His face was still a bit shocked as Professor Iverson addressed Reine.

"What do you mean?" She tried her best to sound like she had no idea what he was referring to, all the while suppressing her own astonishment at seeing the work on the wall before her.

"Well, if I didn't know better, I'd say this was a portrait of you. She has a similar jaw line and even your lovely green eyes. Of course, the hair is all wrong, and obviously I'm not suggesting you're five centuries old." He smiled, realizing the absurdity of his initial reaction.

Alberti had also been quietly comparing the portrait to Reine as she stood next to him. "I must agree with the professor that the resemblance is quite uncanny. She could be a distant relative, for sure."

"Maybe. My family can trace its roots back to Tuscany." Knowing this was the easiest way to avoid the subject, Reine reluctantly agreed before changing the topic. "What does it matter to the museum if we can't authenticate this painting, and you could buy it tomorrow for less than the actual value? You said the owner is willing to sell for any price."

The director momentarily forgot about the likeness. "Ah, yes, that is indeed true. But if we place the winning bid and a later examination proves the portrait is worth far more than what we had paid, it will be the museum's reputation on the line. We will be known as unethical, and no collectors would sell or even loan to us in the future. We cannot have that."

It was possible she would have to reveal some of what she knew, but only if there was no other choice. "And if you are not the highest bidder?"

"In that case, Signorina, the seller could still be shortchanged, as it were. The lucky buyer could end up putting the portrait in a private collection or a bank vault. A potential Old Master would never again be seen by the public. Again, that is not a result we would like to see."

Iverson leaned in to examine the details of the work in question. "I'm fairly certain we will not have either of those problems, Mr. Alberti. I agree the style - as you had suspected - is very much that of DaVinci, but it simply can't be. This appears to be French chalk on vellum, and we have no records of Leonardo ever using either medium. This portrait has just recently surfaced on the art scene and was purchased for - what - only $20,000? If it was authentic, other scholars would have known about it. Or at least they would have recognized it once it was made public."

"Certamente. That is indeed true, Professore." Alberti nodded. "However, we cannot be so dismissive. Our preliminary analyses have already shown some very DaVinci-like traits. You cannot just ignore the obvious left-handedness of the artist, as well as the perfection of the proportions. Although we don't have much time, I've already secured for you access to some very sophisticated equipment. Plus there are the two of you, so by morning I am sure we will be much closer to the truth."

The men moved away to a nearby table to start planning the methodology for the scientific examination, but Reine inadvertently smiled. It was unimaginable how these worldly scholars would react to hearing even a fraction of the truth.