by A A Bavar
FBI Special Agent Eric McKeown, one of the veterans on the team and a specialist in solving unusual crimes, rubbed the back of his neck. “But how?” he asked, his booming tone betraying his frustration. The burly African American cleared his throat and looked at Schnurr. “There is nothing that indicates a robbery. We know these alarm systems are very sensitive. Even a slight change in the internal pressure of the display case can set them off.”
“You’re forgetting the guard’s report, Eric,” said Schnurr.
“No, I’ve read it and reread it over and over again. It was a split-second thing, and he himself acknowledges that he might have imagined it. With all the stress of the moment, who knows? But what we do know as fact is that the diamond was in its case when the vault closed and later when the system was reset.”
“Could have been an inside job,” interjected Special Agent Joseph Avila.
Schnurr turned to look at him. Avila was in his late twenties, looked like he’d been cut out of an FBI poster catalog, and was a promising new addition to the team. “Explain,” said Schnurr.
“It’s possible that the diamond was stolen earlier, and a fake was planted before the security incident of this morning,” said Avila.
“That doesn’t make any sense. Assuming that someone did manage to somehow get around security, why would the alarm only go off later during the day?” asked McKeown. “And if that is true, then the diamond could have been stolen days or even weeks ago.”
“Exactly. I think that today’s incident was planned to divert our attention from when the diamond was actually stolen,” added Avila. “We need to look through older footage, possibly when the museum was closed, and also have the diamond appraised for authenticity to make sure that—”
Schnurr held up her hand and the room immediately fell silent. “Gentlemen, gentlemen, all good points, but none based on fact.” Schnurr took a quick glance at the video freeze-framed on the screen. “I do believe that Mr. Walter is correct in his assertion that the Hope Diamond was indeed, for a fraction of a second, missing from its display.”
“How? I don’t understand. We’ve pored over every second of the security video. The diamond was there the whole time,” said McKeown. “We even looked at the footage frame by frame!”
“Yes, it may seem so, but the facts may prove us wrong,” answered Schnurr as she turned to look at Chief Technology Officer Peter Gonçalves. “Peter, please explain.”
Peter stepped out from behind the computerized video console and walked to the table. “The museum’s high definition cameras run at 30 frames per second, which is very high-end, considering that most systems out there run at around 7.5 to 15 frames. That means images are captured every 33 milliseconds, so technically, if the diamond was swapped within a 33 millisecond window the video would not capture it.”
“That’s crazy,” mumbled McKeown. “How could someone even do that? And how did the security guard…?”
“See it disappear?” completed Peter. “Our eyes can see up to 100 frames per second or more, so although the diamond did not disappear on the video, Mr. Walter could be right.”
“And he is,” said Schnurr. “Peter, can you please juxtapose the video from the gallery’s wide angle camera with this one?”
“Sure.” Peter walked back to the video console and brought up the second video. The captured footage covered the whole gallery.
Schnurr glanced at the pad in her hand and said, “Please position the video focused on the Hope Diamond to time code 09:48:33:24 and the wide angle video to ten seconds before that, so 09:38:33:24. Thank you.” Schnurr took out her laser pointer from the pocket of her jacket and looked up at the video screen.
Avila looked from Peter to Schnurr and then turned his intent gaze to the video screen, eager to hear what Schnurr had to say. McKeown simply leaned against the table and grinned. As usual, Schnurr had listened to them, tested them, and now was about to drop the bomb.
“Gentlemen, I want to direct your attention to this pillar,” said Schnurr. She pointed her laser to the right side of the video. “Peter, please play the wide angle footage and stop when it reaches the same time code as the Hope Diamond.”
The video showed nothing exceptional, just a crowd of people looking at the Hope Diamond display while others leisurely strolled about the gallery. Avila shrugged and said, “Looks normal to me. People doing what people do in a museum.”
McKeown maintained his silence. He wasn’t going to fall for Schnurr’s trap. Obviously, there was something she wanted them to notice. “Hey, Peter, replay that will you?”
Before the footage stopped playing, McKeown smirked and pointed at a figure on the screen. “That woman with the shawl over her head and dark glasses, where’d she come from?”
“She was standing behind the pillar,” said Avila.
“Yes, but where did she come from?” repeated McKeown. “She appeared from behind the pillar, but she wasn’t there moments before and I didn’t see her enter the gallery.”
Schnurr nodded in agreement.
“There’s also something odd going on with her right hand. She’s holding something, but the last frame and the previous one don’t quite match.”
“Very good, Mr. McKeown,” said Schnurr. “Those are the two points that I would like to focus on. First, our mysterious woman’s hand. If you will notice, both videos are stopped on the exact frame that the alarm goes off. Now, pay close attention to the video focused on the Hope Diamond.” Schnurr turned to Peter and said, “Peter, please flip back and forth between the last two frames.”
Everyone quietly stared at the video as it kept repeating the same frames, but everything looked normal. After a few seconds, Schnurr pointed her laser to the top right corner of the shadow cast by the Hope Diamond inside the display. “Does anyone see the subtle change in the intensity of the refraction?” she asked.
Avila craned his head forward. “Yes! It looks like it got lighter. But why?”
Schnurr didn’t answer. Instead, she pointed her laser at the shawled woman’s hand and said, “Peter, please do the same with the wide angle video.”
This time, Avila knew what to look for and as soon as the footage started to repeat he exclaimed, “The same thing happened to what she’s holding in her hand. That’s why the frames don’t match.”
McKeown let out a deep groan.
Schnurr turned to McKeown with a somewhat amused look. “Anything you would like to add, Eric?”
McKeown rubbed the back of his neck and grimaced as if talking would cause him great pain. “She’s the perp. Don’t ask me how, but she somehow swapped what she had in her hand, a replica obviously, with the Hope Diamond.” McKeown glanced at Schnurr and there was recognition in his look. She nodded slightly. “We have several unsolved cases like this. Crazy, unexplainable shit…”
“I don’t get it. So, you’re saying she stole the diamond like… how?” Avila looked from McKeown to Schnurr.
“That’s the problem, we don’t know,” said Schnurr.
“So how can you be so sure that the diamond was actually stolen? There’s nothing that indicates that,” insisted Avila.
“You are correct. However, considering what we know from other cases, the facts pertaining to this incident, and what we see on the video footage, I have no doubt that the diamond currently on display is a fake.” Schnurr paused and looked at Avila. “As Eric mentioned, we do have some unexplainable situations concerning other open cases, and it seems like this one is falling into that category.”
Peter half raised his hand and said, “There is also one other piece of information—”
“Yes,” interrupted Schnurr, “but before we move on, here are the facts up to now. One, Mr. Walter’s report states that the diamond disappeared momentarily, and we have technical information to support that theory. Two, at the exact moment that the alarm went off there was a change in the refraction caused by the Hope Diamond. Three, at the exact moment that the alarm went off there was a sim
ilar change in lighting in what our suspect was holding in her right hand. And finally, four, our mysterious suspect. Any questions at this point?” Schnurr paused momentarily before nodding for Peter to go on.
Peter started the playback on the wide angle video footage, cleared his throat, and stood. “This is where things get even stranger. As you can see, Mr. Walter was completely unaware of the mysterious woman wearing the shawl and ran past her to the Hope Diamond display. In the meantime, the woman walked back behind the pillar, here,” Peter traced the woman’s path on the screen as the video continued playing,” and when she re-emerged she looked like this.” Peter paused the video. On the screen was the still image of the young, queenly woman in the extravagant dress and fashionable hat who Walter had mentioned in his report. She was smiling and not at all worried about concealing her identity. Around her neck, she wore a jewel filled necklace with the Hope Diamond as the center piece.
“What? You’re saying the woman in the shawl changed clothes behind the pillar and came out looking like that? And all within a few seconds?” asked Avila, pointing at the screen.
“Forget that. I know her,” remarked Eric. “I’ve seen that face before… and the clothes…”
Schnurr nodded in consent. “We all have, Eric. Peter, please open a window on the screen and search for Marie Antoinette.”
Peter looked confused for a moment but did what Schnurr had asked. Images of Marie Antoinette filled the search window on the screen.
“There! The third one from the right, it’s the same woman,” exclaimed Avila. “And the same clothes. What the hell?”
McKeown rubbed the back of his neck and said in disgust, “Can you believe it? She’s wearing the Hope Diamond right there in front of everyone and no one stopped her. She just walked out.”
“Yes, she is and she did, Eric,” said Schnurr. “Marie Antoinette was one of the original owners of the Hope Diamond, and someone has created the perfect illusion to make a statement.”
“Saying what, exactly?” challenged McKeown.
“That remains to be discovered,” said Schnurr. “For the time being, we need to contact the museum and request an analysis of the Hope Diamond to confirm our theory. At the same time, we have to reach out to our contacts and find out how our mystery woman pulled off such a heist.”
Patricia lay on her bed in the darkness and stared at the ceiling of her bedroom condo. When the Esplanades complex was still under construction three years ago, she made the decision to invest and bought a unit. The developer, Minto Enterprises, was renowned for delivering properties that were well constructed and uniquely designed, quite different from anything mass produced from cookie-cutter templates. The investment was a bit more substantial than that of other condos in the area, but it was well worth the money, and after a couple of weeks Patricia finally chose unit 813. She loved it. It was perfect with its open concept design, and the view of the Sierra Nevada Mountains from the large windows in her dining room was absolutely stunning. On some days, she even rose early and watched the sunrise over the mountains.
Patricia rolled to her side and gazed out the bedroom window to the foothills beyond. The crescent moon shone above the horizon, and the fog that hung over the scenery seemed to glow due to the lights emanating from the neighboring cities. She blinked, almost in a daze, and let her mind drift. Paul Blast was interested in her? In what world did that make any sense? For one, he didn’t know her. They had never really met, and he having watched her do her laps for a few weeks was nothing short of creepy. And two, they worked in the same company. As a director he should know better.
But it was Paul Blast, after all. Handsome, accomplished, rich, and definitely attractive. Patricia allowed herself a half smile as she mentally replayed their earlier encounter. A wealthy executive with a body to die for wanted to go out with her. How bad could that be? But then there was also the offer to move up to his department and be in charge of a new project in development. Could she have both the man and the job?
“No, you can’t,” she mumbled to herself. “Just accept the job and ignore the man.”
Patricia let out a deep sigh and sat up. Life always made her choose between love and career, and this time her career was more important than a possible, or more likely, an impossible relationship. Of course she wanted to find Mr. Right, but she couldn’t imagine Paul fitting that role. It would be way too perfect. Life simply didn’t work that way, at least not for her where men were concerned. The whole thing would probably end up being just a fling and would do nothing but damage her hard earned reputation at Clearwell. What she definitely did not want was her co-workers whispering about how she advanced her career by sleeping with Paul Blast. No way in hell was she going to be labelled as an opportunistic career-ladder-climbing bitch.
Patricia got up, walked to the window, and leaned against the frame. The moon was higher in the sky, and the stars were peeking down at her. Her eyes scanned the night sky in search of a sign, anything that would help her decide what to do, or better yet, a shooting star for a wish. At twenty-seven, time was quickly running out on her plan to start a family by the time she was thirty. If that were to happen, she needed to quickly commit to more serious relationships.
Patricia thought back to her first – what she believed at the time was serious – boyfriend, Alex. They met during her second year in college, and he seemed like an ambitious guy with a strong desire for success. He was naturally smart, outgoing, and had rugged good looks, and despite his tendency to leave studying to the last minute, he always nailed his tests with exceptional grades. Patricia, however, was the exact opposite. Although very smart and intuitive, she had to work things through slowly to be able to absorb their contents. She was actually jealous of Alex’s cluttered yet dynamic mind, but his energy and brilliance was infectious, and Patricia found herself completely fascinated by this man who was in such contrast to herself. Everyone liked Alex, and to Patricia’s surprise, Alex liked her.
They had been dating for only a month when Alex asked her to move in with him, and although spontaneous decisions went against every grain of her being, she was so infected by him that she agreed. In her heart, she really believed that Alex was “the one”, and not long after moving in she discovered that he indeed was “the one”. The one who left dirty dishes everywhere; the one who didn’t pick up his dirty clothes; the one who never bought groceries, but was always hungry; the one who didn’t replace the toilet paper on the roll or put the seat down, no matter how many times she pleaded with him; and worst of all, the one who didn’t contribute his share of the rent.
Despite these problems, Patricia was not a quitter and was determined to make their relationship work. For six months, she patiently reminded Alex about sharing the responsibility of living together, being partners, building a solid future. Gradually, however, it became painfully obvious that their goals and personalities were just too different, and although she hated to admit it, she had made a mistake in thinking that Alex was anything but a little boy in big boy pants. While she was planning for a future that included marriage and a family, he was busy planning his next special ops in Call of Duty or looking forward to pizza night with his friends. In the end, Patricia ended the relationship but mourned her loss grievously. Even though her brain reassured her that she had done the right thing, she moped for weeks recalling Alex’s boyish grin every time she came home, and how his strong arms made her heart melt whenever he wrapped them around her. But she also remembered how he used that same charm to get out of doing his share and was never serious enough to commit to her or their relationship.
A few weeks after she moved out, Patricia returned to the apartment to pick up a vase she had left behind. She didn’t really need it, but wanted to show Alex what he had let get away. She had this unrealistic, romantic vision of Alex pining away waiting for her return with all kinds of promises to do better.
Patricia put on a new sundress that nicely fit her gentle curves and showed off her tan
ned, toned body, and even applied a layer of lip gloss before climbing the stairs to the second-floor apartment. She stopped in front of the door, took a deep breath, and knocked. There was a brief shuffle of footsteps before the door opened, and Alex appeared rumpled and unshaven, wearing a gray t-shirt inside out, and blue plaid boxers. Patricia almost smiled, he was pining away!
“Hey, Tricia, ‘sup?” Alex yawned, ran a hand through his mess of sandy hair, and scratched his stomach. Then, as if a light bulb had turned on in his head, added hastily, “What are you doing here?”
“I just came by to get my blue vase. I think it’s in the kitchen,” she said, waiting for him to step aside and let her pass through the doorway.
“Oh, uh, okay. I can get it. Wait here.”
“Oh, please, Alex. You’ll never find it. I’ll just get it myself and get out of your way.”
Patricia pushed past Alex, who looked like he wanted to object but couldn’t find the right words, and headed down the hall towards the kitchen, making sure to add a little extra wiggle to her walk. As she turned the corner, she ran smack into a blonde woman wearing nothing but one of Alex’s t-shirts and a pair of extremely skimpy, hot-pink panties. Patricia bounced back, crashed sideways into the kitchen table, and careened forward again. With her arms flailing, she grabbed at the only thing within her reach to stop her fall; the woman’s oversized breasts. The woman screeched in surprise and instinctively bear hugged Patricia to stop her from falling. They stood there motionless for a couple of seconds, regaining their balance, before Patricia stepped back out of the embrace.
