Icy Control (6 page)

They remained close enough that they touched.

Sally smiled, she could feel herself glow happily.

“I sense there’s no correct response to this.” James shot Rob an amused look.

Rob chuckled. “We’re both doomed. It’ll likely be easier to accept it now than drag it out,” he agreed.

“Eleanor, Robert, I hear you’ve done us proud.” Gary Waldron came toward them.

“Actually, sir—” Rob started, but El sent him a quick glare and he cut himself off sharply.

Sally remained silent but felt her eyes widen. Was Rob meant to have been with El and James but stuck with her instead? She filed the information away to review later.

“This is James Waters and Sally Langtry. They’ve also been helping Rob and me with the investigation,” El spoke over Rob, effectively shutting him up.

Handshakes were exchanged and El continued. “We were actually just on our way to the laboratory. Ben’s had the piece almost twenty minutes now and we feel Sally might be able to offer some insight.”

“Fantastic. I just wanted to congratulate you all. I’m sorry I can’t stay, but I’m already late for a teleconference with the mayor and a few others who have been breathing fire throughout the day. At least the recovery of the Cezanne will put out a lot of complaints and angst. I’ll expect your reports soon.”

When Waldron was out of ear shot, Rob shot a firm glance to El. “El, I can’t write a report for something I wasn’t a party to,” he insisted.

“Of course not, I know better than to fudge something like that,” she replied sharply in a low tone. “But neither do you have to admit to his face you weren’t there. I could see you about to fall on your sword. You’ve been working just as hard as I have and we’re a team. Besides, we have the painting, that’s all that matters.”

“Ben Demmens and his team have the painting,” Rob corrected his partner.

Sally could see the tension around his eyes and mouth, tiny muscles that tightened only when he wasn’t happy. She guessed he felt upset, or perhaps guilty, but he seemed willing to let it go for now.

“Come on, let’s all go have a look before the Gallery or a bunch of dignitaries from the mayor try to beat down our door and take it back,” El said.

Sally jumped very slightly when Rob rested his hand on her shoulder. She tilted her head up to look at him. He gave her a small smile, barely a shadow of the one she’d awoken with just a short time ago. Trying to reassure him with her gaze, she smiled at him. A faint tingle of happiness and sexual chemistry shivered through her as Bobby gently guided her down a corridor. El and James walked ahead of them, having left as soon as Rob finished his sentence.

The simmering, electric attraction seemed to only grow between herself and Rob, even while they moved down the hallway. She wondered if subconsciously the tension of knowing how important this work would be, of how many lives might potentially be affected, was only adding to the weight of the moment and intensifying her feelings. Sally knew without a doubt she loved Rob, and had done so for a very long time. But never had the light press of his hand on her clothed body, and a casual walk hit her so strongly, either.

She cleared her throat, forced her mind to remain on what was happening and not the emotional rollercoaster she appeared to have climbed upon.

“Do you really have laboratory facilities here?” Sally questioned. She tried to focus on their surroundings, her mind and attention soon distracted by the sedate, very professional and particularly soulless offices they seemed to be striding past. Looking around, she drank in the sights of Bobby’s work. Inspiration often struck her from the oddest things.

Exposed beams painted mission brown and a drab shade of taupe covered the walls. Everything seemed to be ‘old skool’ and practically dripping in many decades-old interior design. At first she hadn’t liked it much at all, but she realized there was a calm feel to it, a solidarity in the knowledge that the people within this place were here, protecting her country, for decades. It led to the belief that even decades in the future they would still be here—or somewhere similar to here—performing their duty.

Rob indicated the frosted glass double doors at the end of the hall.

“Ah,” Sally murmured to herself.

Internal security cameras were mounted above the doors, three that she could see. Sally tried to gauge whether there’d be any blind spots, but it was difficult for her to judge. To her, they seemed to cover every inch of the hallway. The keypad on the wall appeared state of the art. Clearly when it came to their security everything was very top line. Modern technology was now well in evidence.

Understated, traditional wealth filled the offices she’d been in, opulent, unashamed expense and technology clearly reigned, at least in this corner of the Agency.

“It was easier to create a small lab on site, rather than have us commute back and forth to somewhere outside the city,” Rob explained. “Especially since all too frequently, time is a critical factor in any job we’re doing. We’re not equipped for some of the more specialist testing that sometimes occurs, but our technicians can jerry-rig almost anything pretty quickly. And have other experts or equipment couriered in at a moment’s notice. To date we’ve never had something we couldn’t handle—and I hope we never do.”

El and James remained a pace back from the door. El and Rob looked silently at each other for a moment. El waved her hand to the door with a small smile. Sally watched as Rob stepped up to the keypad and after a moment’s pause typed in a complicated sequence of numbers.

Sally blinked, stunned. Although she hadn’t counted, it had seemed like the pass code had been twenty or even more numbers long. She knew full well she was not some mathematical genius, or even particularly savvy when it came to that sort of thing. But between her work and personal email accounts, her three bank accounts and her parents’ security code alarms and her two PINs, she often had to resort to little rhymes and memory tricks to recall a given security number. And that didn’t even include phone numbers and the like.

For the first time ever, she wondered if her oldest and dearest friend was even more of a superhero than she’d already believed him to be.

Rob seemed to catch her impressed glance.

A small beep signaled his password had been accepted and presumably recorded. He held the door open for them and Sally stepped forward, caught somewhere between surprise and wonder. She lifted her eyebrows and gave him a cheeky grin as they entered.

“I was muttering a rhyme,” Rob whispered.

Sally chuckled, still charmed by his skills.

She entered the large area and, after a few steps to make room for the others, stopped suddenly. The room was enormous and had clearly been renovated in the not-too-distant past. It appeared as if a number of offices had been demolished, the interior ripped back to the structural bones and a large, airy, thoroughly modern lab built in its place.

Work benches were laid out in an orderly manner, some scrupulously clean, others cluttered with numerous cool-looking—but mystifying—pieces of equipment. Sally couldn’t even name most of them, but she could tell this was a place of learning. It had that light, positive feel to it. Answers were found here. Puzzles solved.

Three men in lab coats were gathered around an island bench. A large lamp shined brightly onto the canvas spread out on the table.

“We couldn’t possibly flake off some paint samples.”

“Oh, come on, like they’d ever know.”

“Maybe we should. I’ve read that latent irradiation in many of the older lead-based paints—”

“We are
not
taking samples, Thompson. End of discussion. Now, perhaps if we—”

El cleared her throat. One of the men lifted his head, then the others followed suit. They all had varying degrees of guilt written across their faces.

“Ben, let me introduce James Waters and Sally Langtry. They’re both consulting with us and have come to help with the Cezanne.”

“A pleasure,” Ben said as they exchanged handshakes. “This is George and Tim.”

“I’ve brought some tools I thought might be helpful,” Sally said. For a moment she felt the smallest bit shy. She was an artist, and a damn fine one too, but for the first time in forever she wondered if she was out of her league.

Not wanting to step on toes, or offend the technicians, she nevertheless did feel she could contribute. Sally smiled, only a little uncertain of herself. Ben seemed to stare at her for a moment, but then the small amount of resistance in his stance softened.

A minute later James, Sally, Ben, George and Tim all hovered over the painting, discussing various techniques animatedly. Rob and El leaned back against a different bench next to each other, watching.

“A polarizing light, if we refract if correctly, might uncover differences in the pigments and then we could—”

“But infra-red light would surely be better. That spectrum is far broader and—”

In one small portion of her brain, Sally noticed El and Rob leaning in and talking softly to each other. She’d never been so aware of another person before. Even so, she had no real interest in trying to overhear what they spoke about—this puzzle consumed her and she wanted a hand in solving it.

“I don’t know about you, mate, but I don’t want to be the one to try and get approval to take a sample from this. The sheer value of this artwork would mean we’d have to wait for insurance paperwork, and likely many levels of managers and who knows what else just to take a gram or more. It might be something to consider if we come up empty on other thoughts though,” James added with a shake of his head. “But I do like the idea of running the canvas under different light sources. What if the reason so many people have interest in it is because it’s been altered in some way?”

“Oh, I like that idea.” Sally brightened, her mind taking James’ suggestion in a few different directions. She’d read a number of very interesting tomes on the best forgers throughout the ages, and her mind scrambled to keep pace with the vivid discussion.

“May I?” She raised a hand-held magnifier and looked around the assembled men.

They nodded and shuffled to give her room. Sally bent low over the table, the glass scant inches from the painting. Starting at the nearest corner and working her way up and down the length of the painting, Sally examined the piece in minute detail. The men continued to discuss tests amongst themselves, though she could feel the weight of their attention still on her as she made her painstakingly slow progress.

“Hmm,” Sally murmured, caught at a particular point. She ran her gaze in a grid pattern over the tiny section, first up and down, then side to side. It was a frequently taught method of systematically searching an art piece, seeing each section both horizontally and vertically and also covering the area twice. It was tedious, but a very thorough way to search.

Sally even moved her body, trying to catch the various refractions of light. Studying the painting this intently, she tried to discover if her eyes were playing tricks or if she’d really found something.

Her mind racing with the possibilities, she glanced up. To give herself a break, Sally allowed her eyes to become unfocused as she turned inward, making a judgment call.

“Mmm, James,” she said after a moment, then held out the magnifier. “What do you think of this area in the background, the grassy hill?”

“The brushstrokes definitely appear different,” he said immediately.

He didn’t bend to peer closer, but Sally could tell from the avid, intense way he stared that the small section of canvas had his entire concentration.

“Oh, definitely, I could see that. But are you familiar with Vi—the restorer’s work? I want a second opinion before I put forward any hypothesis.”

“Wait,” El snapped as she pushed away from the bench. “The painting has been tampered with? But there hasn’t been time.”

“Hang on,” James said calmly, not even glancing back at El.

Rob snickered and didn’t seem the least fazed when El shot him a glare.

The room was silent while James studied the painting for a minute, then two, going over the same small area. Sally was happy to be still and wait. This would be important, and just as she’d refused to rush, she couldn’t imaging James taking anything less than all the time he needed to make his decision too.

She looked to her lover, and unusually Rob seemed to fidget, appearing impatient. For a moment she thought maybe he was uncomfortable. Rob was always the soul of patience and even-tempered. It wasn’t until she glanced at the clock that she realized James had been studying the painting for almost five minutes now. Amused, despite the seriousness of the situation, Sally beamed at Rob, trying to convey she thought this was good news and something positive.

James stood up and stretched his back.

“I definitely recognize the work of this woman,” James finally agreed. He passed the glass back to Sally. “She only works for a select group of clients, though, and has been semi-retired these last few years. Careful, delicate work like this doesn’t happen in a few hours, or even a few days. There’s no way this occurred since the heist. It has to have been before that.”

“It’s been in the possession of the National Gallery for a number of years,” Ben insisted. “Though it’s only been on show for a month or so. But that’s not unusual, museums and galleries frequently have thousands of pieces, the vast majority of which usually are in storage.”

“Let’s try it under infra-red,” Tim said.

Ben grasped what appeared to be a hand-held electrical wand, brandishing it about like a mini sword. George moved next to the doors and switched off a bank of lights. Three quarters of the laboratory fell into darkness. Tim fiddled with the light and ran it over the painting. Hard as she looked, Sally couldn’t see the markings she’d hoped to find.

Rapidly blinking, she tried to ignore the small ache of eye strain and redoubled her efforts. No one else spoke, and when Ben reached the spot where they’d begun, he didn’t even pause but continued straight on into a second round.

Sally’s stomach sank. The fact no one had stopped to point something out meant it possibly wasn’t just her. No one else had seen anything either.