GIOVANNI Saltieri said, “asking me all these silly questions about a robbery when we have had no robbery occur.”“You’ve been in this job how long now?” Clare Johnson asked. “About six, maybe seven years. That right?”Saltieri nodded, tempted to reach for a fresh cigarette from the open pack of Lords resting on his desk next to an ornate letter opener. “It will be seven years this fall,” he said.“Your job includes responsibility for the Vasari Corridor, correct?” Clare asked.“I am responsible for the entire Uffizi,” Saltieri said, “and that would include the corridor.”“Can I ask a stupid question?”“Ha,” Saltieri said. “The ones you’ve asked so far have been plenty stupid.”Clare sat back and crossed her legs, her black skirt revealing plenty. “Why is part of the corridor sealed?” she asked.Saltieri paused before answering. “It is being repaired,” he said. “Once that work is completed, we will determine whether or not it should be reopened.”“Besides you, who has access to the sealed-off portion?”“I can’t answer that and I won’t until you tell me where this line of questioning is headed,”
