The Raven (9 page)

“I
’m telling you, the time is now!” Maximilian raised his voice, his imposing figure moving forward in the predawn darkness.

He and his companion stood high atop the Palazzo Vecchio, arguing. His interlocutor lifted a hand to stay him.

“Patience.”

“We’ve been patient enough. I say we kill him tonight.”

His companion sighed dramatically. “Have you learned nothing from the Venetians? It will take more than us to fell him, particularly if one of the others is with him.”

Maximilian drew his sword. “We aren’t exactly young. Who’s to say the others will defend him? They’re probably just as eager as we to seize control.”

“Precisely why we must be confident in our alliances. Now is not the time for haste, particularly when you’re in danger of losing your temper. It makes you reckless, Max, and that is something you cannot be when dealing with the Prince. He’s more powerful than you can imagine.”

Max cursed, swinging his broadsword through the air. “I disagree.”

“Then you’re a fool. Even I don’t know the full extent of his power. I’m not about to find out only to lose my head.”

“Must we wait until his thousand years have expired?”

“Don’t be pessimistic. I made a mistake colluding with the Venetians. Now I’m cultivating other, stronger partners. And there’s always the ferals and the hunters.”

Max sheathed his sword. “Now you’re talking nonsense. Ferals can’t be controlled. And why would you want to work with the hunters?”

His companion smiled slowly.

“The Prince is old. The hunters would be only too glad to have his blood. They’d probably sign a treaty to leave the city alone if we were to deliver him up to them.

“Our borders have been somewhat porous recently. If a pack of ferals were to appear, they would wreak havoc. The Consilium will hold the Prince responsible. Not to mention that our noble prince has made a few
errors
recently—errors that threaten to expose him.”

Max rested his large paw on the hilt of his sword. “The Consilium is riddled with his allies.”

“And his rivals. They know his reign won’t last forever. All they lack is a leader who is willing to depose him, and a little motivation.

“Be patient, Max. The city will be ours soon enough.”

R
aven sighed as she sat at a computer terminal in the archives of the Uffizi Gallery. She’d been demoted.

Professor Urbano had welcomed her back after her weeklong absence, but he hadn’t allowed her to continue her work conserving the
Birth of Venus
. Perhaps this was his way of exercising his skepticism about her appearance, despite the fact that her fingerprints had been verified.

Yesterday, she’d been relegated to errand runner, while on this day, she’d been sent to the head archivist and told to follow her instructions. Someone else was sitting in her chair in the restoration lab, holding her brushes and carefully covering part of the surface of Botticelli’s masterpiece with protective varnish.

Professor Urbano assured her she would be the one to apply the second and third coatings after Anja Pahlsmeier, a postdoc from Berlin, had completed the first. He was unwilling to interrupt the work she’d begun in Raven’s absence. Or so he said.

Raven tried very hard not to be resentful, and failed.

The head archivist tasked her with organizing the printed and digital scientific reports the restoration team had done on the
Birth of Venus
. Then she was supposed to scan the printed reports and send all the digital files to Patrick, so he could input them into the archives’ database.

The archivist had instructed Raven to familiarize herself with the files on the restoration of
Primavera
and to organize the new files in the same way. Raven was scrolling through the radiographs of
Primavera
, when she noticed something.

Radiographs are photographs taken by an X-ray machine, and they reveal details about a painting that aren’t visible to the naked eye. In this case, Raven’s attention was drawn to the radiographs that revealed the pentimenti, or outlines of the various figures Botticelli had drawn before he began to paint.

When she enlarged the radiograph of the figure of Mercury, she noticed something surprising. Originally, Botticelli had sketched him with shorter hair.

Raven had spent a lot of her own time studying
Primavera
and its restoration before she began working on the
Birth of Venus
. No one had ever commented on this particular change in Mercury’s appearance or why Botticelli had lengthened his hair.

Puzzled, Raven clicked on another file, which featured an infrared reflectograph of the same image. In the reflectograph, the layers of paint were visible. It was clear that Botticelli had not only adjusted the length of Mercury’s hair, he’d changed the color as well, darkening the strands.

Mercury was blond
.

She sat back in her chair, staring at the computer screen.

On one level, her discovery was unremarkable. Artists in general, and Botticelli in particular, made changes to their paintings as they worked. Other changes to the original design of
Primavera
had been noted by the restoration team in their reports. But Raven couldn’t recall anyone mentioning the changes made to Mercury’s hair.

Curious, she scrolled through some of the written documents the restoration team had prepared. It took her some time to do so, but her investigation corroborated her suspicion. No one seemed to have noticed the change in Mercury’s hair and this was very, very surprising given the fact that the change was obvious on a close inspection of the radiographs.

Lost in thought, Raven opened a digital copy of the finished painting and enlarged it, focusing on Mercury’s head and shoulders. Then she switched to the radiograph.

She tried to imagine what Mercury would have looked like withshorter blond hair.

Discoveries such as this one could help an art historian make her career. But before she wrote a paper announcing her discovery to the world, she had to study the reports more carefully. And she had to be sure no one had written on this subject before.

Peering over her shoulder to be sure she wasn’t being watched, Raven surreptitiously removed a flash drive from her backpack and quickly copied the relevant images. She could barely contain her excitement, her leg jiggling back and forth.

She’d just transferred the flash drive to the zippered pocket of her backpack when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

“Are you okay?” A voice addressed her in English.

She jumped in her chair and let out a loud expletive.

“Shhh!” the archivist hissed from her desk, which was across the room. She glared at Raven over the rims of her glasses.

Raven nodded meekly before looking up into the guilty eyes of her friend Patrick.

He mouthed a quick “Sorry.”

“What are you doing?” she whispered, quickly closing the files that she’d opened on the computer.

“I came to ask you the same question.” He nodded at the computer screen.

Raven glanced at the archivist, then at her friend.

“It may be nothing.”

Patrick’s gaze moved to the archivist as well before he spoke. “Gina wants you to come over to have dinner with us tonight.”

Raven looked over at their mutual friend, Gina, who was working on the other side of the room. She waved.

“So it’s official? You’re an ‘us’?”

Patrick grinned. “Yeah.”

“I’m happy for you. I’d love to have dinner with you both, but I have to pick up a few things after work.”

“That’s all right. Do you have your Vespa?”

“It’s waiting for me at the shop.”

“I’ll take you to pick it up after work and we can meet at Gina’s later. Okay?”

“Thanks.” Raven smiled.

Patrick picked up a piece of paper and scribbled a few words. He left the paper next to her computer before returning to his desk.

Raven glanced at his writing.

You forgot about the cameras.

“Shit!” she muttered.

She crumpled the paper and shoved it into her backpack.

She looked around the room, trying not to appear obvious as she located the security cameras in the four corners.

She’d been so excited about her potential discovery, she’d forgotten about them. Now the gallery had footage of her downloading files to a personal storage device without permission. It was a serious offense. And, given her recent circumstances, she doubted Dottor Vitali would be lenient.

She looked over at Patrick, who shook his head. He seemed just as worried as she.

He picked up his cell phone and began typing.

A few seconds later her phone chimed with a text.

What r u doing?

Raven quickly answered him.

Forgot about the cameras.

She could hear Patrick’s huff of disapproval from across the room.

Raven turned to look at the archivist, but she seemed preoccupied by her own work.

Raven’s phone chimed again.

You need to be more careful.

She couldn’t disagree. She was about to type a suitably contrite response when the telephone on the archivist’s desk rang.

As if in slow motion, she turned around.

The archivist was nodding and agreeing to something. When she finished her short conversation, she waved Raven over.

Raven walked to her desk, slowly.

“Dottor Vitali wishes to see you in his office. Now.” The archivist’s tone was brisk. “Make note of where you left off in your project and log out of your computer.”

I am in so much trouble.

Raven ground her teeth as she returned to her desk. With a few short mouse clicks, she logged out of her computer. She took a clean piece of paper and listed what she’d accomplished that morning.

She picked up her knapsack and handed the paper to the archivist.

“Raven, wait,” Patrick called to her.

He walked her to the door.

“Hand me the flash drive,” he whispered, holding his hand out.

“What?”

“So they can see us.” His eyes flickered to the side, where one of the cameras was positioned in full view of the door.

She shook her head. “You’ll get in trouble.”

“You’re already in trouble.” He lifted his hand higher.

Raven looked over at the archivist, who was watching them intently.

“This is your job, Patrick.”

“A job I have because you covered my ass when I forgot to file the radiographs. Now we’re even.” He moved his hand in front of her nose. “Give me the flash drive.”

Raven muttered a curse and unzipped the pocket of her knapsack. She retrieved the flash drive and handed it to him.

“Thanks. I really appreciate it.” His voice was loud, too loud, and the archivist hushed them once again.

He leaned forward to whisper in her ear. “Tell Vitali I asked you to copy the files. If they confiscate the drive, I’ll help you get the files another way.”

“I hope you know what you’re doing.” Raven gave him a worried look before exiting the archives.

“So do I.” He grimaced.

As Raven climbed the stairs to the second floor, she contemplated an alternative explanation, one that would exonerate Patrick. Nothing came readily to mind. She couldn’t even mention William York and his connection with Palazzo Riccardi.

Raven would never allow someone she cared about to be hurt. This was the core of her being. She’d made a mistake; she would take responsibility for it, even if it meant losing her position at the gallery.

She gave herself a short pep talk and approached Vitali’s office just as a loud female voice, speaking English, echoed down the corridor.

“Codswallop! I’ve been wandering the streets of Florence since before you were born. Clare and I will be fine for a couple of hours.”

Raven stood outside the open door, her palms sweating. She wiped them on her yoga pants.

“Katherine, the city isn’t safe.” Professor Emerson sounded exasperated.

“I don’t believe that for one moment,” the woman replied.

Taking a deep breath, Raven knocked on the door.

“Come in,” Vitali called, in Italian.

She entered the room and found the Emersons talking with an older woman who had short white hair and snapping blue-gray eyes. She was pushing a stroller in which Clare was seated, playing with a toy bunny and oblivious to the tension around her.

“Julianne can take her tour, you can discuss your situation with Vitali, and I’ll take the baby for a walk. It’s a beautiful day. She needs fresh air.” The woman wheeled the stroller around and headed for the door.

“No.” Professor Emerson’s voice boomed.

Everyone stared—at his sapphire eyes that blazed behind blackframed glasses, at his hands that were clenched into fists at his sides, and at his expression, which was frightening.

But Professor Emerson wasn’t angry, although he’d adopted an angry posture.

Raven scanned his expression and was surprised to see fear behind his eyes.

“Katherine, it isn’t safe. I can barely stand to have you, Clare, and Julianne out of my sight.”

His eyes moved to his wife and he addressed her. “You can take your tour. But Katherine and Clare must stay inside the gallery.”

His wife grasped his elbow and he unclenched his fists, his body relaxing.

Marginally.

“It’s all right, Gabriel. We’re safe now.” She gave him a smile, which he did not return.

“And you will remain so.”

Raven wiped her hands on her pants again and studied her feet.

She’d intruded on something she didn’t understand, a private conversation between a protective husband and father and his family. She found herself strangely moved by his intensity. It had been a long time since someone had been protective of her. It had been a long time since she’d had a father.

“We can walk indoors.” The woman referred to as Katherine turned toward Vitali. “Perhaps you’ll assign us a guide. Would that be acceptable, Gabriel?”

It seemed clear from her tone that she was annoyed, but she seemed determined not to argue with him.

Raven lifted her eyes and saw Gabriel nodding in a restrained manner.

“Then it’s settled. Now, if you’ll be so kind as to find us a guide, I’ll take Clare for a walk.” Katherine gave Vitali an expectant look, almost as if he were a concierge rather than the director of the Uffizi Gallery.

Raven half expected Katherine to begin tapping her conservatively shod foot.

Vitali motioned Raven forward.

“Mrs. Emerson would like a tour of the restoration lab. Please escort her downstairs and introduce her to Professor Urbano. He’s expecting her.”

Raven blinked.

Vitali’s eyes narrowed. “Miss Wood?”

Raven’s anxieties at being summoned to the director’s office because she’d copied files without permission began to lessen.

She cleared her throat. “A tour? Yes, of course. Of course. Thank you.”

She paused, wondering if he was going to bring up the flash drive or mention anything about the robbery. She wondered if news of her mid-night visit to Palazzo Riccardi had somehow come to his attention.

Vitali sat back in his chair and lifted the telephone, requesting that his assistant send one of the security guards to his office, that an important guest needed an escort.