by Bob Blanton
“Yes we have! Are we going home now?”
“No, not yet. We’re just picking Matt up so he can go to Yale with us.”
“Can I come?”
“Yes, there are lots of museums at Yale,” Emily said. She gave Matthew a smile and lifted her finger to indicate he should relax.
“Museums, yuk. I’m going to stay here and play with Jessie.”
“We’ll see you on Saturday at the jet,” Emily said. “Then we’ll go home.”
“Okay,” Sonja said, as she squirmed her way out of Emily’s arms. “I’m going to play with Jessie.”
“How has it been, Margaret?” Mrs. Stevenson asked.
“She and Jessie entertain themselves, and Yvette does most of the work,” Mrs. Brandt said. “So Mom and I have been able to spend time talking and reading. Actually it’s been surprisingly relaxing.”
“Do you think you can handle four more days? Or should we take Sonja with us?”
“Oh no. It’s so much easier with two. You know how hard it is to entertain a six-year old.”
“Okay, we’ll see you Saturday morning,” Mrs. Stevenson said. “Are you ready, Matt?”
“Yes,” Matthew said with emphasis. “I, for one, love museums.”
◆ ◆ ◆
“Ah, adult activities,” Matthew sighed, as they arrived at Yale.
“Did you get tired of being a slave to two six-year olds?” Mrs. Stevenson asked.
“Yes, they had me building sand castles on the beach for them. And when we weren’t at the beach I had to construct doll fortresses in their bedroom, and of course reading them stories.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear that they were entertained.”
“Poor baby,” Emily said. “Aren’t you used to it with Jessie?”
“Mostly, but I could distract her with something else, like TV. But with two of them, they gang up on you. It’s like tag team wrestling, and they actually kept each other focused, so distracting them didn’t work.”
“So we rescued you?” Emily said.
“Yes. What are we going to see first?” Matthew asked.
“Let’s go see the Center for British Art first,” Mrs. Stevenson said. “I want to see the James Ward and Turner pieces they have.”
“Then we can go check where you would be living if you go here,” Emily said.
“We can in general, but they randomly assign you to the residential colleges. Although since my mom went to Yale, I could request her old college,” Matthew said.
“Which college was she assigned to?” Emily asked.
“It was Calhoun, but now it’s the Grace Hopper.”
“I heard they’d renamed it,” Emily said.
“Yes, Calhoun was pro-slavery,” Matthew said. “So it was a bit uncomfortable to have a college honoring him. I prefer Grace Hopper anyway; she was a computer scientist in the forties, and became an admiral in the Navy.”
“Impressive,” Emily said, “especially for a woman at that time. Hey, if your mother went to Yale, why didn’t she come?”
“She wants me to go to college on the west coast, so she’s been quietly trying to discourage me from going here. If she came, she’d feel like a traitor to her Alma Mater. Or she thought the old memories would come back and she’d find herself encouraging me to come here,” Matthew said.
“I can see going to college here,” Emily said. “It’s a gorgeous campus, intimate.”
“Yes, only about five thousand undergrads, and the residential college is about four hundred, so you get know everyone in it.”
“And it’s only one and a half hours from New York City,” Emily said. Jason should definitely check it out, he’d only be a couple of hours from his grandparents.”
“I know he’s planning to apply,” Matthew said. “And of course Alex will apply.”
“Hmm, we could all wind up here,” Emily mused. “Maybe I should add it to my list.”
“Kids, let’s walk over to Broadway so we can check out downtown New Haven,” Mrs. Stevenson said.
◆ ◆ ◆
Matthew was sitting in the living room of their New York hotel suite reading a book when Emily walked in.
“Matt, while Mom’s in the bathroom, what’s up with Sayid?”
“He just took a bunch of money out of that offshore numbered account,” Matthew said. “He clearly thinks everything is still on track.”
“Even after they nailed those guys with the car bomb at Dulles?”
“Yes. He must be really confident.”
“Why do you think so?”
“He took fifty million out of that account,” Matthew said, “and I don’t think it’s his money.”
“Why?”
“Why would he sell all those assets if he had access to over two hundred million dollars? I think he’s betting his life that this comes off the way he wants it to.”
“Well, I’ve researched all the diplomatic events in D.C. and even in New York,” Emily said. “Nothing comes up.”
“There’s only another week,” Matthew said.
“What are you two so serious about?” Mrs. Stevenson asked.
“We’re just talking about what exhibits we want to check out at the Met,” Emily said.
This is it
“We’ve got a little over two hours before we’re meeting Mom for lunch,” Emily said, as she and Matthew exited the cab in front of the Metropolitan Museum of Art.
“It’s this way,” Emily said, as they entered the museum. Emily had to pull Matthew to the right as he was walking straight instead of following her. “You’re not paying attention,” Emily scolded.
“I was just checking in on Sayid. He’s very relaxed; whatever he’s up to, it’s going to happen soon. I just can’t figure out what it is.”
“I know it must be stressful, but you’ve done everything you can. The FBI caught the guy you pointed them to, so maybe they’ve thwarted him.”
“No, Sayid’s too happy. He’s all in on the futures and put options. If oil drops by a few dollars a barrel, he’ll be ruined.”
“We’ll go over all the options again tonight,” Emily scolded. “But for now, we’re at the Met.”
“Okay, let’s see it.”
Matthew and Emily went directly to the Egyptian exhibit. “Oh, here’s William the Hippo,” Emily said.
“William the Hippo?”
“Yes, they got him in 1917,” Emily said. “He’s so cute; everyone loved him and started to call him William. He’s the museum mascot.”
“He is a nice blue, odd color for a hippo,” Matthew said. “Look at this horse. What amazing detail. It says here that it’s a whip handle.”
“Check out this cat,” Emily said. “It’s beautiful.”
“It says here it was intended to hold a mummified cat.”
“Ugh.”
“And here’s a friend for William,” Matthew said. “They’re the same color and she is very pregnant.”
“A Statuette of the Goddess Taweret,” Emily read from the placard. “A pregnant hippo.”
“Oh yeah, the goddess of childbirth,” Matthew said. “I remember from world history.”
“You would,” Emily said. “Now isn’t he handsome,” Emily pointed to a portrait of a young man. “The Boy Eutyches.”
“Now this is nice,” Matthew said. “Horus in Gold. I know Horus, but what’s with gold?”
“It’s part of the royal title,” Emily read. “They’re not sure, but it seemed to show the king was committed to peace and stability,” Emily read from the brochure.
“This is a cool looking Sphinx. Blue,” Matthew said. “The Sphinx of Amenhotep III,” he read. “They sure like that blue.”
“It is beautiful and it is in perfect shape,” Emily said. “Come look at this, it’s a statuette of Isis and Horus. Horus is just a baby in his mother’s arms.”
“He doesn’t look like a hawk here,” Matthew said.
“No, but he does here,” Emily said. “God Horus Protecting King Nec
tanebo II.”
“He looks really fierce.”
Emily and Matthew spent almost two hours going through the museum’s extensive Egyptian exhibit.
“Now we get to see The Temple of Dendur and the Islamic art galleries, ” Emily said. “Right this way.”
“I’m sorry, the temple and the Islamic Art galleries are closed today,” said the security guard stationed at its entrance.
“What, why is it closed?” asked Emily.
“It’s just for the week. There is a special event tomorrow night. It will be open again on Saturday.”
“Oh pooh! What event?”
“There is a brochure explaining everything over there,” the security guard pointed at the display with the brochures.
Matthew grabbed one and started to read. “The Crown Prince of Saudi Arabia is giving the Met an ancient Koran in exchange for one that traces back to Mohammad. Apparently the museum was gifted the Koran last year, but Saudi Arabia claims it was removed from the country illegally back in 1902. They’ve demanded it back, but have come up with this exchange as a nice gesture so everyone is happy.”
“Interesting, so why are the temple and the Islamic Art galleries closed?”
“There is a gala being held in the temple in his honor as he presents the Koran to the museum. The Islamic Art galleries are right next door, so they’re letting the guests view them during the party. Ah, he’s going to be here,” Matthew said.
“Yes, you said that.”
“The Crown Prince of Saudi Arabia,” Matthew repeated.
“Oh,” Emily said. “You think…”
“Exactly, this has to be the target,” Matthew said, as they moved out of earshot of the security guard.
“Yeah, what better way to upset the oil market than to assassinate the Crown Prince of Saudi Arabia on American soil.”
“Let’s go to the restaurant to meet your mother,” Matthew said. “We’ll be a few minutes early so we can talk there.”
“The restaurant is just a block up on 84th street; we can walk.”
◆ ◆ ◆
“Reservations for Stevenson. We’re early,” Emily said as they met the maître d’. “Can you take us now?”
“Of course, Ms. Stevenson. Where is the rest of your party?”
“My mom will be arriving later.”
“Right this way.”
The maître d’ took them to a corner table and seated them. They each asked for a glass of water and said they would wait for their other party before ordering anything else.
“We’re in luck, the table next to us is empty,” Emily said. “So what do you think?”
“I don’t know how the sarin gas plays in. They could try to gas the whole party, but how could they be sure to get the prince? He’s bound to have crazy security, and they even might have atropine available, given his risk profile.”
“It makes sense that the prince would be the target. Maybe the sarin is not related to this part of his plan,” Emily suggested.
“I don’t know, it seems to come up whenever he talks about the end game, but maybe they’re using the sarin as a way to eliminate his security so they can get to him another way.”
“Are you going to notify Caruthers?”
“Sure, she must know, but it hasn’t come up at any of the briefings I’ve listened in on.”
“It’s kind of an art world thing. Maybe they missed it,” Emily said.
“Let me text her.”
“How are you going to do that? Your special cellphone is back at the hotel, and if you work it from here you’ll give away your position.”
“Oh, I’ll just use Sayid’s burner, the one I stored in the warehouse,” Matthew said. “She’ll assume Ranger Zero kept it when he intercepted it.”
Matthew opened his portal, and while Emily provided cover conversation, he turned on the burner phone he’d put in the warehouse attic. He quickly texted the info to Agent Caruthers. “There.”
“Now what?”
“I’ll try to check the place out tonight. See if I can figure out how they might plan something. I just wish we could go to the party, then I could be right there in case something happens.”
“Like them releasing the sarin gas.”
“The goal is to stop that,” Matthew said. “I don’t see how they’re going to get anything into the temple. They’ve had the place closed for the last week to prepare. Security is going to be out of sight with all the big wigs there.”
“I can see if Mom can come up with an invitation; she and Daddy are big donors to the Met,” Emily said. Then she snapped her fingers, “But you know someone who might be able to score an invitation.”
“Who?”
“Remember the guy from the State Department who was at Vail?”
“Oh yeah, Mr. Joelson, he was escorting the Austrian Ambassador.”
“Yes, and after you saved their son, he told you to give him a call if you ever needed anything.”
“Yes, I remember. Do you really think he can get us in?”
“He or someone who owes him a favor. Call him. Do you have his card still?”
“Not with me, but I remember the number.”
“You remember the number. It must be nice,” Emily scoffed.
“Can I help it if I have an eidetic memory,” Matthew said.
“Well, call him.”
Matthew got out his cell phone and dialed the number. “Mr. Joelson, please. Matthew Brandt calling.” Matthew drummed his fingers as he listened.
“He told me to call him if I ever needed anything… Back in November… Yes that Matthew Brandt… I understand… I know this doesn’t sound important, but it is. I’m hoping he can get me an invitation to the event at the Met tomorrow night. The presentation of the Koran… You know about it… You have my number, okay.”
“Well.”
“His assistant will call me back.”
“What are you kids doing?” Mrs. Stevenson asked, as she took a seat at the table. “They said you’ve been here for twenty minutes.”
“Oh, they closed the Temple of Dendur and the Islamic Art galleries because of a big party tomorrow.”
“That’s too bad, the Temple is an amazing sight,” Mrs. Stevenson said. “And the Islamic art is really nice. The Damascus Room is simple amazing. We’ll have to come back so you can see them.”
“We’re trying to see if we can get an invitation to go to the party. Do you think you could get us one?”
“I can try, let me call Rebecca,” Mrs. Stevenson said. She dialed her phone, “Rebecca… Elizabeth. Yes I’m in New York with my daughter. We wondered if you could get us into the event in the Sackler Wing at the Met tomorrow night… Yes, call me back.”
Matthew gave Emily a puzzled look.
“Oh, Rebecca’s Dad’s admin. She mostly works from home. He’s kept her on since he retired to take care of things. Comes in handy,” Emily explained.
“It certainly does,” Mrs. Stevenson added. “Although I think she spends more time getting your father tee times than anything else.”
“That’s not fair,” Emily protested.
“No, it’s not,” Mrs. Stevenson agreed. “She manages the charters for the jet, coordinates all the charity work, as well as doing market research for Walter. Now have you two looked at the menu?”
◆ ◆ ◆
Matthew’s phone rang just as they were discussing whether to have dessert.
“I can’t afford the calories,” Mrs. Stevenson said, “but you two go ahead.”
Matthew answered his phone. “Matthew Brandt. Yes… Just a second.”
