Authors: Dayna Rubin
“You will be taken to your home, where you will be retained until matters involving the Museum have been rectified. Until that time, you are not to contact anyone other than myself, or the team I have assigned to you. I won’t ask if you understand your current position, as I believe you are a smart man and will realize what is best for you. If not now, you will…in time.” The Chief Justice extended his hand, which Warren shook, while contemplating his next move.
Warren had been escorted out of the Museum and was now placed in the back of a black SUV which thrust itself into the mainstream of fast-moving vehicles, melting away to become indistinguishable.
Chapter Fifteen
Multi-Colored and Asymmetrical
A foot nudged Natanya in the ribs where she had been curled up comfortably on the floor of the living room.
“I bought breakfast. It’s not much, but it’s all I can afford right now since I’ve been out of work.” Pascal put the bag containing several coffees and assortment of bagels and cream cheese on the table.
“What time is it?” Natanya sat up from under the twist of blankets, rubbing her eyes.
“A little after nine o’clock.”
“Where is Philippe?”
“He’s out getting the overhead projector you wanted from the office.” Pascal selected one of the bagels, and then made a production of opening each of the cream cheese containers. Once open and lined up perfectly, he opened his bagel and selected a different one for half of each half, using four different cream cheeses for the entire bagel.
Natanya watched the production, not knowing if Pascal either hadn’t eaten for a while or was just enamored with cream cheese.
“He’s due back at any time, so I would get up and take a shower before he gets here, if I were you. There’s a towel for you on the shelf over the toilet. The shower curtain needs to be pulled all the way over against the wall or water will flood the floor. Use the guest shampoo and soap on the right side of the handle.”
“Sure.” Natanya stood up, stretched and proceeded to the bathroom.
“Hang up your towel when you’re done.”
Natanya stopped in the middle of the hallway. “Anything else?”
“No, I think that covers it.” Pascal picked up a broom and dustpan, and then busied himself by sweeping the miniscule crumbs under his chair.
Natanya walked swiftly down the short hall to the bathroom, shut the door and leaned against it. “Seriously?” She made a face at her reflection in the mirror, then reached around the shower curtain to start the shower. She observed the towels in their present position, on the shelf above the toilet, and where hers would soon be, hung next to the other two on the towel bar on the adjacent wall.
After entering the shower and letting the steaming hot water pour over her to ease the tension, she stood facing the showerhead. She looked to her right to see the recently unwrapped bar of soap and bottle of shampoo, then proceeded to use each.
Finished with her shower, she reached for the towel in the tiny out dated bathroom, wrapped it around her and let her hair drip onto the floor.
Apparently, I can only have one towel…like that’s going to happen…
Leaning over the bathtub portion of the shower, Natanya scooped up her long hair, twisted it, letting it drip into the shower, wrapped it with a towel, then padded the short distance over to the mirror.
Wiping the mirror with her hand, she looked at her reflection. Steam curled around the circle she had created. She could see her hazel eyes, more green now because she was tired. She bent down to the sink to wash her face, and then used her finger for a toothbrush. She finished off the curtailed morning routine by brushing out her long dark hair and shifting it all to one side, where she let it curl up at the ends.
Slipping back on the clothes she had on when she arrived. Natanya left the bathroom feeling somewhat refreshed, if only her thoughts could be cleansed as easily.
Natanya flipped on the television, but then thought better of it, not wanting to hear the latest development, she turned it back off.
“I have to go pick up Philippe. I’ll be back in a few.” Pascal called out before leaving, “Don’t use your cell phone. It’s too dangerous, and don’t use my land line phone to call anyone either.”
“Got it.”
“All right. I’ll be back soon with Philippe.” Pascal locked the door behind him, leaving Natanya standing in the kitchen looking at the array of bagels and cream cheese spreads.
Shrugging, Natanya sat down, chose a bagel, then, as if to prove a point, just one cream cheese spread. Crunching her bagel, Natanya thought she could find out just a little about what was going on.
She raised up from her chair, a little sore from sleeping on the floor, found the television remote, then eased herself back down on the chair in the kitchen of the one bedroom apartment.
A few successive commercials let her finish her bagel and coffee, and then the news began with their lead story, the copied Vermeer. The Conservatory denied any knowledge and declined further comment. A statement from a museum employee followed, detailing the lipstick staining the picture, and how it needed to be cleaned, then the possible switch at Signature Art Conservatory. Her name was then brought up and bandied about as a possible art forger and art thief. Philippe was considered as an accomplice, and was also wanted for questioning. The newscaster went on to say a technician from NASA named Dauphine Delacroix, was called in to utilize the Atomic Oxygenated cleaning process on the painting.
“Nice.”
Natanya found the button on the remote control, and pushed it, which stopped the voices from broadcasting their accusations, then threw it across the room. The back of the remote dislodged upon making contact with the wall, releasing its load of batteries that fell separately on to the floor. Satisfied with the resulting damage, Natanya calmly resumed sipping her coffee. Thoughts of calling the Conservatory plagued her as she sought to distract herself with Pascal’s eclectic mix of CDs, the newspaper crossword and word search puzzles, along with the various cream cheese mixtures.
After several hours of waiting, she finally gave in, ultimately consuming each type of cream cheese blend. Then, she placed a call to her old place of work.
“Geoffrey? It’s me…what’s going on?” Natanya whispered even though she didn’t need to.
“Nat?” Geoffrey said loudly, cupping the phone and closing the folding door to the security booth. He whispered, “Nat, is that you?”
“Yes, Geoffrey, it’s me. Tell me quickly, what’s going on there?”
“Mrs. Gleason is barking orders to everyone… and Daryl, you should see him…his clothes are rumpled and he even has stubbly growth on his face…”
“Geoffrey…the painting…what about the painting?”
“Oh, right, well that’s really interesting because the Conservatory is denying that you had anything to do with it, and they’re saying the original is at the museum! They’re saying you are on vacation or something now…I don’t know, the whole thing is being covered up like it never happened.”
“Hmmm, that is unusual.”
“You’re still wanted for questioning though. They’re getting ready to go to the press with the ‘new’ Director of The National Gallery while announcing there was a mistake… they’re going to declare the actual Vermeer as having been given to NASA to be cleaned and will be away from the museum for an undisclosed amount of time for restoration.”
“The new director? What happened to the current director?”
“I don’t know…that’s what I’ve heard. Someone’s coming, I’ve gotta go…oh wait, someone called here named Dauphine and wanted to get a message to you that there was something else in the painting. They wanted you to call them back about it…Amy took the call.”
“Who wants me to call them?”
“The NASA lady…Dauphine something…”
“Okay, thanks Geoff.” Natanya disconnected, then activated a search for Dauphine Delacroix of NASA and placed the call.
Chapter Sixteen
Mainstream of Influences
Dauphine had been speaking to someone at Signature Art Conservatory, when she was disconnected, “Wait…I can’t hear you…hello, hello?” Dauphine removed the cell phone from her ear to see how many bars were showing, and then glanced up to find the Chief Justice in the doorway.
“You don’t need to be making any calls; you have a plane to catch Ms. Delacroix.”
“You did that…you disconnected me?”
“I hope the next time we meet; it will be under different circumstances. You made a good choice when you endorsed the new Director during the impromptu press conference. I’m sure NASA will be happy to have you back. Have a pleasant flight Ms. Delacroix.” The Chief Justice left as silently as he entered.
Without thinking it through, Dauphine unsnapped the first strap to release the cover of the equipment, and then hurriedly moved around each of the units shutting down fields, lights, and fans covering the equipment. Calibration of the units would have to be completed upon return to NASA anyway, she thought, so she could approach her task in less than her usual careful manner.
Military personnel first escorted her, then Gage out to the hallway, where, as she watched, they efficiently moved the units out of the lab and into the hall where they proceeded together until they reached the airport where the Government Cargo plane waited for them.
Dauphine solemnly waved to the pilot as she boarded, then took her seat, in what appeared to be nothing more than a modified jump seat pulled down from the side of the plane and locked into position.
The entire entourage that had escorted her from the Museum accompanied her into the plane, pulled down a seat and belted themselves in.
Dauphine attempted to make small talk but it came off as stilted and awkward, so she listened to the hum of the engines as the plane readied itself for take off.
Once they were well on there way, a few of the crew began conversations with the military personnel, which lifted the mood considerably, prompting Dauphine to drift off to sleep, as they had stayed up all night processing the pictures in the Museum.
“Dauphine Delacroix?” Someone was shaking her shoulder in an effort to wake her. She was awakened abruptly, Dauphine seemed confused as she listened to her name called out, but then realized she must have arrived at the airport in Cleveland.
“Yes, I’m awake. We’re back in Cleveland?”
“Everyone has disembarked, we had the equipment loaded and a vehicle is ready to take you to either your place of residence or to your office. No one knew of your preference.” The female who spoke to her had the uniform of the airport personnel, and her nametag read Tessa Kane.
“I will need to go to the office and personally make sure the equipment is returned to the Space Environment and Experiments Branch.”
“Understood. I’ll instruct the driver to take you to 21000 Brookpark Road.” Tessa moved aside for Dauphine to proceed down the metal staircase hanging from the open door of the aircraft.
“Where is Gage? Where are the Atomic Oxygen Units?” Dauphine asked as she looked around, finding a town car ready to take her back to NASA.
“They were sent on ahead, and will arrive shortly before you. They left a few minutes ago.” Tessa said uneasily…we didn’t want to wake you.”
Dauphine pushed past her, hurrying down the stairs, practically leaped to the ground as she ran to the car. Arriving at the car before the surprised Tessa could inform the driver of her destination; Dauphine instructed the driver where to take her, and to drive as fast as possible, as this was NASA government business.
The town car peeled out of the parking lot of the airport, leaving Tessa standing midway down the metal staircase next to the cargo plane.
Once out on the freeway, she pressed the driver to continue at a faster pace. The car weaved through slower moving traffic, her anxiety of not knowing whether they would be able to arrive at the same time, sooner, or much later than the vehicle holding the Atomic Oxygen System was wearing on her.
Dauphine called ahead to the office, “This is Dauphine. I’m on my way in and need to know whether the Atomic Oxygen Units have arrived.”
“No? Okay I’ll be there soon. Thanks, oh, and call me at this number if they arrive before I do. Okay, thanks.”
Rolling down her window, Dauphine flashed her identification to the security guard at the gate, who admitted the town car and its occupants into the carefully guarded NASA compound.
Dauphine directed the driver where to go, and then jumped out as soon as he stopped, running to the entrance where she flashed her identification to the startled staff at the entrance, then quickly proceeded, waiving her bar coded badge to open a series of doors until she reached the area where the portable units were stored.
Just as she reached the designated area, she saw personnel bringing the units in. They waved as soon as they saw her. “Long night, huh?”
“Whew, you could say that again.” Dauphine was so relieved to see the units still covered the way she had left them, she nearly ran over and hugged them.
“You must be tired; we can reset the equipment from the flight for you and position it for storage.”
“Max,” Dauphine lengthened his name as she spoke it. “You know these are like my babies…I’ve got it, okay?”
“So dedicated to your job…impressive. That’s gotta score a few points with the brass.”
“We can only hope,” Dauphine said with a slight grimace. Anxious to have him leave her alone with the equipment, but not wanting to draw attention to her either, Dauphine waited for him to set the equipment into its usual place. Another employee assisted him, an employee she knew, but usually kept her distance from due to the mystery surrounding him.
Max and his counterpart left Dauphine, who made sure all of the entrances to the room were closed and locked. Taking great care, she uncovered each of the units and all of the individual screens, and then flipped on the power. Pushing the button, she watched as the metal frame slid out with the painting held firmly in place during the journey on the plane. She took the partially revealed Van Gogh with the remnants of the Vermeer covering it from its enclosure, where it had laid within the depths of the X-ray instrument, and placed it back into the Atomic Oxygenated Restorative unit.
Once back at the screen, she pulled out the keyboard and plugged in her instructions, then allowed it to calculate the level of paint she needed to remove to reveal the entire Van Gogh.
The process started, she sat back on her stool and let her mind drift to Warren, concerned for his well being, she wondered if she should try to contact him to let him know she had kept the painting and would have the necessary proof for him, if he needed it.
She didn’t know why she felt she had needed to withhold this information from The Secretary of State, the Museum Personnel, and of course, the Chief Justice, but something inside her knew that if she didn’t, it would disappear as if it never happened.
Her phone beeped, letting her know she had a message. She read the text; it was from Signature Art Conservatory.
They had relayed the message, and I should expect a call soon
.
A knock at the door sounded. Dauphine slid off her stool and went to the door where she opened it just wide enough to show her face.
“I saw you were back, Phin. Do you want to have lunch?”
“Um, well … I’m kinda busy, and I’m really tired.”
“Yeah I heard you took the portables and one of the cargo planes without a sign-off. The whole place was in a big uproar, but then Bob from the second floor came through to say it was approved after all.”
“Oh, right, Bob from the second floor…admin office.”
“You know you’re hungry, and you’ve got to eat. Come on. Are you re-calibrating the units? No one’s going to care if you leave while that’s going on. Come on…” Teri pleaded.
“Okay, just a sec.” The door closed, while Dauphine covered the screen showing the progress of the painting deep inside the unit, then looked around to make sure there wasn’t anything else she was forgetting, then left the room and locked the door behind her.
“It’s certainly going to be nice to get something to eat. I’m starving. Thanks for the invite.”
“Me too. Let me catch you up on what happened. You look terrible, by the way. Like you haven’t slept or something. Oh my gosh, you should have seen everyone around here. You would have thought we had been invaded.”
“I can imagine…”
Reaching the cafeteria, they both grabbed a tray and chatted while they made their selections, and then found a table while the other employees in the crowded cafeteria conversed with their own tablemates.
Dauphine’s phone chirped, letting her know she had a call. Picking it up, she saw the caller didn’t want to be identified.
“Hi, I just want to tell you that it’s not what you think it is.”
Dauphine hesitated, confused as to who she was speaking to, but then realized it was Natanya. “I know, that’s the most remarkable thing about it, it’s not.” Dauphine cupped the phone and excused herself from Teri for a moment while walking outside to the atrium.
“Wait, what are you talking about? You know why we did what we did?” Natanya asked incredulously.
“Well sure, and it’s genius really because then how else would anyone find out about it?” Dauphine moved past a small group of smokers.
“Right, so how do you know about it? I thought I was the only one, well me and my Great Aunt…”
“So you received the canvas from your Great Aunt?”
“Well, Yes…” Natanya answered in amazement.
“And you knew what was underneath it, so you had to hide it to protect it. The answer was in the picture itself.
“Yes, and well, no…wait a minute. What are
you
talking about?” Natanya asked.
“I’m sorry, I interrupted you, why don’t you tell me what you wanted me to know.” Dauphine found a chair outside and sat down.
“I was just calling because you left a message saying there was an important discovery about the painting. I had called to see, um, what was going on, and I would really like you to know I’m not a bad person…I have to tell you that the construction of the painting had a purpose.”
“I know, and it’s okay. The historical significance of what you’re doing is far greater than the initial forgery itself,” Dauphine said.
“I have to go…I probably shouldn’t have risked calling.”
“Where are you and what are you going to do now? Look, I have someone who can help you, if you could trust me, I want to help.”
“I don’t know…”
“This person has so much knowledge about these things and believe me, at this point, he’s in the same boat you’re in, so he could be trusted to help.”
“Who is this person you’re talking about?”
“Warren Panetiere.”
“The Director of the National Gallery?”
“Yes, he lost his job over this and he…”
“I heard he had lost his job, and I’m really sorry about that. Look, I can meet him in an hour at the fountain in D.C., but what is it that you say you discovered in the painting?”
“We found the picture of the Van Gogh you helped to keep secret all these years under the Vermeer. You must know where the other pictures are if you knew where this one was. You need to let Warren know…if you could reveal anything at all, it would help considerably.” Dauphine pleaded.
The phone went silent, and unable to call Natanya back; she quickly located Warren’s number within her list of callers and went back inside to obtain the use of a secure phone line that prevented anyone from listening in.
Once inside, Dauphine apologized to Teri then proceeded further inside toward her office where she could request a secure line.
She dialed Warren’s number. “How are you doing?”
“As good as can be expected. Considering…”
“Can you be at the fountain downtown within the hour?”
“Why?” Warren sounded wary.
“Just go, you won’t be disappointed.”
Dauphine hung up, looked at the amount of time of the call, and hoped it hadn’t been traced.
Dauphine closed her eyes, tilted her head up to the sun, and breathed in the cigarette smoke from the few brave enough to continue the habit. A habit she kicked long ago, but still enjoyed from time to time.
“I found you. There’s an alarm going off. It’s definitely coming from the Atomic Oxygen Unit. You need to turn it off!” The mysterious employee who would suddenly appear and then just as suddenly leave, was jumping around in front of her, his long shaggy hair obscured his eyes, his reversed ball cap sat precariously on his head as he continued to excitedly jump around.
“Okay, I’m coming. No one’s tried to enter the room to turn it off, have they?” Dauphine asked.
“No, you don’t want that. So I came to you first.” He walked along beside her, skipping on occasion. It was subtle, but she could tell.
They reached the locked steel door of the room containing the Atomic Oxygen Units.
“Okay, I’ll push the second button from the left on the third screen while you check the painting,” he said.