Masterpiece (28 page)

M
arvin shrank back from the chill and scrambled farther underneath the jacket cuff, poking out just enough of his head to see. He was so exhausted from his prolonged bout of sign language that he could hardly think what to do next.

Fortunately, James seemed filled with purpose. He yanked his hood over his head and told Marvin, “We have to call my dad. Maybe his cell phone is working now. It’d better be.”

He trotted down the slippery sidewalk to a restaurant on the street corner. Inside, a hostess stood at the front desk with a sheaf of menus in her hand.

“Um, excuse me,” James said shyly. “Could I . . . do you think I could . . .”

The woman bent down, smiling. “What is it, honey? Where’s your mother? Are you meeting someone here?”

James shook his head, blushing. “Could I use your phone? Please?”

“Oh! Are you lost? Of course you can. Come back here.” She beckoned him behind the desk and lifted the receiver, pressing a button. “There, that’s the outside line. Do you know your phone number?”

James nodded, biting his lip. Quickly, he dialed.

Marvin heard his joyful exhalation, and felt a rush of relief.

“Dad! Dad, it’s you.” There was a long pause on James’s end while Karl’s anxious exclamations cascaded through the phone line. “No, I’m okay, Dad. Everything’s okay. Sorry. Sorry, I—No, I’m not in the museum—Dad, listen—” Marvin heard James groan in frustration. “Dad, wait in Christina’s office. I’m coming right now, okay? Just wait there.” James plunked the phone back into its cradle and turned to the door.

“Where are you going, honey?” the hostess asked. “Don’t you want to wait here?”

“No, it’s okay,” James mumbled. “Thanks for letting me use the phone.” He awkwardly swung the briefcase aside as he reached for the door handle.

“But—” she started to protest. Before she could stop him, James slipped out into the street.

He ran the whole way to the museum, sneakers thudding against the wet pavement, Marvin clinging to his wrist. He stopped only for the walk signals at the end of each block. It was evening now, and the cottony gray sky had darkened, yielding to the deep blue of another winter night. The snow fell steadily, at first melting when it struck the ground, then gradually dusting
and coating everything it touched. From his snug hiding place, Marvin watched this transformation with wide eyes. By the time they reached the museum, a veil of white shrouded the city, softening its edges, quieting its sounds, as welcome as a benediction.

As soon as James walked through the front entrance of the museum, he was stopped by one of the security guards.

“Wait right there, son,” the man said, clapping a beefy hand on his shoulder. “What’s your name?”

“James Terik,” James answered nervously.

“I thought it was you!” the guard boomed. “Your father is going to be mighty glad to see you. Security’s been combing the place. Good thing they told us what color jacket you were wearing.” He unhooked a radio transmitter from his belt and spoke into it. “Ed? I’ve got the Terik kid. Yeah, right here at the main entrance. They are? Okay, I’ll take him up.”

He turned to James. “Your dad is upstairs in Ms. Balcony’s office. Let’s go. What have you got there?” He pointed to the briefcase.

“Oh . . . just something for my dad,” James said quickly.

When James walked through the door of Christina’s office, he was immediately engulfed in Karl’s tight embrace, and Christina rushed over to them.

“James! James, where were you? You scared me, buddy! I thought something had happened to you.” Karl crouched down, gripping James’s shoulders. “You can’t go off like that. We’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

Marvin, peeking out from under the jacket cuff, could see that Christina’s pretty face was pinched with worry. “Oh, James, I’m so glad you’re all right! We’ve lost too much today already.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” James said, burrowing into his father’s chest. “But it was something important. I—” He took a deep breath and stepped back, looking at both of them. “I found
Fortitude
.”

“WHAT?” Christina and Karl spoke in unison, staring at him.

“Here,” James said simply, holding up the briefcase. It dangled in the air, scuffed and innocuous. Nobody made a move to take it.

“Look inside,” James said.

Karl frowned, lifting the briefcase and setting it on the table. He unlatched and opened it, looking at the layers of protective paper.

“What’s this?” he asked James. “Whose is it?”

Christina’s brow furrowed. “It’s Denny’s . . . isn’t it? Where did you get this, James?”

“Look,” James said again.

It was Christina who moved forward now, lifting the protective wrapping. Suddenly, she stopped, her hand gripping the edge of the table.

Marvin scrambled up James’s sleeve to his collar for a better view.

“Karl,” Christina said.

“What is it?”

“You do it.”

Karl removed the last sheet.

“Oh, my God,” he said.

Keep going
, Marvin wanted to say. You’re about to see the four
Virtues
together for the first time in decades. Centuries maybe.

But Karl needed no encouragement. Gently, with held breath, he removed the tiny drawing. He turned to Christina. “It’s the real one, isn’t it?”

She couldn’t take her eyes off it. When she nodded, he removed the remaining packaging.

“Oh, my God,” he said again. “Christina . . . Christina, it’s all of them.”

Marvin saw Christina’s knees buckle, and Karl caught her elbow to keep her from falling.

“How can that be?” she asked, her voice barely audible.

“I don’t know,” Karl said, turning to James, who pressed against him, his face a blur of confusion. “But it is. Look.” He set the four drawings in a row on the table. “
Fortitude. Temperance. Prudence. Justice
.”

“Oh!” Christina gasped.

Karl kept his arm around her, holding her up. He looked at James for an answer.

James, red-faced and wide-eyed, stared at the
drawings. Marvin huddled under the jacket collar, afraid to move.

Christina bent over the table, her eyes following each graceful line.

“I can’t believe—” The words caught in her throat. “They’re all here!”

T
hey gazed at Dürer’s four
Virtues
. Marvin felt again the thrill that had coursed through him when he first saw them in Denny’s study.

Karl squinted at the miniature images. “Are you sure they’re the real ones?” he asked Christina. “The ones that were stolen?”

Christina nodded, unable to speak. Her eyes moved from one figure to the next, stopping at the picture of
Justice
.

“Look at it,” she said. “I thought I’d never see it again.”

She walked along the edge of the table, holding her breath. “And
Prudence
! And
Temperance
! They’ve been missing for more than two years.”

Together at last, the drawings had a pulsing energy that filled the room like music rising. Of course they were real, Marvin thought. There was no mistaking them.

Christina turned to James. “How on earth . . . I don’t understand. How did you find them?”

James bit his lip.

“Where did you get this briefcase, James?” Karl asked quietly.

James shifted from one foot to the other, his gray eyes anxious. “It was in an apartment,” he said finally. He took the crinkled label out of his jeans pocket and set it on the table.

Christina picked it up, her brow furrowing. “This is Gordon Perry’s place.”

James hesitated. “I think he’s the one who took the drawings.”

“Now hold on—who’s Gordon Perry?” Karl asked.

“One of our curators,” Christina said. “But what do you mean, James? Gordon’s in Florence, helping with restoration work at the Uffizi. He’s been there for a month. Denny’s staying at his place.”

James chewed his bottom lip, watching her.

“Where
is
Denny?” Karl asked impatiently. “We have to tell him what’s happened.”

“Yes, of course, I’ll call him now.” Christina lifted the phone on her desk.

“He already knows,” James said.

Both Christina and Karl turned to James, staring at him so intently now that Marvin felt obliged to duck back under James’s collar lest he be seen.