Stone Barrington gets entangled in the rarefied art business in this heart-stopping thriller by #1 New York Times  bestselling author Stuart Woods. When a slam-bang of a crime brings a beautiful new client into Stone Barrington’s office, little does he know his association with her will pull him into a far more serpentine mystery in the exclusive world of art. It’s a business where a rare find could make a career—and a collection—and mistakes in judgment are costly. And under its genteel and high-minded veneer lurks an assortment of grifters and malfeasants eager to cash in on the game. In the upscale world of New York City’s luxury penthouses and grand Hamptons estates, it will take a man of Stone Barrington’s careful discernment and well-honed instincts to get to the truth without ruffling the wrong feathers...because when it comes to priceless and irreplaceable works of art, the money and reputations at stake are worth killing for. Praise for Quick & Dirty   “Suspenseful...the excitement builds.”— Publishers Weekly More Praise for Stuart Woods “Stuart Woods is a no-nonsense, slam-bang storyteller.”— Chicago Tribune “A world-class mystery writer...I try to put Woods’s books down and I can’t.”— Houston Chronicle  “Mr. Woods, like his characters, has an appealing way of making things nice and clear.”— The New York Times “Woods certainly knows how to keep the pages turning.”— Booklist “Since 1981, readers have not been able to get their fill of Stuart Woods’  New York Times  bestselling novels of suspense.”— Orlando Sentinel “Woods’s Stone Barrington is a guilty pleasure...he’s also an addiction that’s harder to kick than heroin.”— Contra Costa Times  (California) Stuart Woods was the author of more than ninety novels, including the #1 New York Times bestselling Stone Barrington series. A native of Georgia and an avid sailor and pilot, he began his writing career in the advertising industry. Chiefs , his debut in 1981, won the Edgar Award. Woods passed away in 2022.                                                          1         Stone Barrington departed the Carlyle Hotel, on Madison Avenue at 76th Street and slipped from under the 76th Street awning into his waiting car.  He had had a business lunch  after departing the United Nations, where his close friend, Secetary of State Holly Barker, had given a well-received speech. A heavy rain was falling, and he could hardly see across the street. “Can you see to drive, Fred?” he asked his factotum, Fred Flicker.  “Only just, sir,” Fred replied.  “I’ll go slowly.” “As you wish.”  Stone found his unfinished New York Times crossword on the seat next to him; it was quite dark outside, and he switched on the reading light and started to work. Traffic was slow.  He saw a figure in black jogging toward Park Avenue with something in his hand; Stone couldn’t tell what, and he went back to his puzzle. They had reached Park Avenue, but just as they did the light turned red, and since there is no right turn on red in New York City, Fred waited for it to change. A dark blur appeared to his right in Stone’s periperal vision, but before he could turn to look at it, something struck the side window of the car with a heavy blow, and the vehicle shook slightly.  As he turned he saw the figure in black seeming to bounce off his car and fall into the street.  He peered out the window at the figure, who was scrambling to his feet and noted that he carried a sledge hammer. Then, from behind him, came another blow to the car, then one to the left rear window.  Finally, the figure on Stone’s side had another go, with similar results.  This time a star  appeared in the window glass. Fred was turning to look at him.  “What’s happening?” he asked. “Never mind the light, Fred, take a right quickly.” Fred did so, just as the light changed, and he was able to drive the length of the block before encountering another red light on Park.  Stone looked over his shoulder and saw three dark figures, bearing sledge hammers, trotting toward the car.  “Never mind the light, Fred, GO!” Stone shouted for emphasis. Fred went and got lucky, sailing through the empty intersection.  All the lights on Park turned green, and he made it to 57th Street before they turned red again. “What the hell?” Fred asked. “Beats me,” Stone said.  “Drop me at the house, then take this over to the Strategic Services garage on 12th Avenue and ask them to replace my window.  The other two seem to have survived intact.”  Stone had bought the car, already armored, from Strategic Services, the second-largest security company in the United States. Fred pulled into the garage in Turtle Bay, so Stone wouldn’t get wet. “Shall I wait for the car, sir, while they repair it?” “Yes, if they have the window in stock and can do it immediately; if not, just wait until the rain stops, then leave the car and take a cab back.” “Yes, sir.”  Fred pulled out of the garage and turned west a