by Dayna Rubin
“Yes, I know.” Tsun Jai withdrew from the lab, which was becoming crowded with the smaller canvases lined up along the lab counter, and the larger canvases positioned along the wall.
“That girl needs some confidence…” Dauphine said, laughing at the exchange she just witnessed.
“What? Yes, yes…” Warren turned to go, but then changed his mind.
Warren looked around for Dauphine, found her holding one of the larger canvases as she prepared to place it within the moveable arms of the instruments to be evaluated.
Warren said, “I’m going to see if I can head them off before they see the extent of our…”
“Too late Mr. Panetiere, we’ve seen it.”
Warren swiveled around, momentarily caught off guard. “Madam Secretary and Chief Justice.” Warren extended his hand politely to each of them.
“The unprecedented actions are completely beyond the scope of your capabilities, and I will have you know that you will not be allowed to continue to conduct yourself in this manner.”
The Chief Justice placed a gentle but firm hand on the Secretary of State’s arm to quiet her as he attempted to calm the situation.
Warren looked from the Secretary to the Chief Justice, tolerant of their reaction as he had earth shattering news, which would serve to temper their behavior quickly.
“Well sir, you look like the cat that just swallowed the canary. Would you mind sharing the reasons behind the closure of the Museum and the parade of canvases removed from the wall? A forged painting is by no means reason to go to such extreme lengths.”
“What we have here, is a lost work of art painted by Vincent Van Gogh. It was thought to have been destroyed during the bonfires to purge degenerate art during World War II, but we have found it! Here, at the National Gallery! And I believe,” Warren paused for emphasis, walked to the massive units brought in from NASA, then continued, “these portable Atomic Oxygenated Units from NASA have the capability to determine the originals from the fakes, not to mention any hidden gems of information lying beneath the surface. This can be achieved through extensive preliminary X-ray evaluation and through the safe removal of oil, dust, stains, and other undesirable additions over the years.”
“Good job…yes, good job. The painting with the lipstick, what was that, a Vermeer? Woman Holding a Balance I believe…what happened with that particular debacle?”
Warren sighed, and without having to ask, he noticed Dauphine had placed the canvas of the damaged Vermeer, now with the over paint partially removed, back into the clamps. Dauphine entered instructions into the system while they looked on, and the image materialized on the opposite wall.
“What you are seeing is not a trick, and I know how that sounds.” Warren laughed, “Here, before you is the lost work of Van Gogh hidden under several layers of paint, upon which a copy of a Vermeer, the one you saw at the party kissed by the illustrious wife of our Congressman from Texas, was painted over. Possibly to further the deception…we don’t know; but the point is, our museum will be credited for making the first discovery of a monumental effort to deceive Hitler.”
“Well, now, that sounds all well and good, but what about the amount of money spent on the Vermeer? Where is the original? Have you forgotten that?”
“No sir, I haven’t forgotten about that, but it could be that this discovery supersedes the loss incurred by the museum for…”
Warren was cut off midstream by the Secretary of State, “Our contacts have informed us that the Vermeer had been switched by the Restorer of record; therefore the original Vermeer has in effect, been stolen.”
“And if that hadn’t happened, we wouldn’t have had the Van Gogh practically fall into our lap, along with the knowledge that a painting had survived the degenerate purging,” Warren replied.
“What we need to ask ourselves,” interjected the Chief Justice, “is how the public will perceive the findings, and at this point, it is my belief it will instill unrest and create confusion. Therefore, by my decree, I seal the information learned within this room, never to have it divulged to another soul.” The Chief Justice and the Secretary of State exchanged a look of solidarity.
Dauphine glanced over at Warren, who had become enraged at their inability to see that the world needed to learn of this recent development. “You can’t do this! We need to explore this further. We need to test each and every one of these canvases. With the technology we have today, it would be sacrilegious to keep the paintings hanging on the wall, not knowing whether they were containing mysteries beyond their surface. If you could just imagine the magnitude of this discovery and how it could change the perceptions of what happened during World War II…” Warren looked incredulous as he stared in open confusion upon the Chief Justice and then the Secretary of State, not understanding why they couldn’t see the potential impact of their discovery.
“Please reconsider. The world has a right to know.” Dauphine stated. Making her presence known, she came forward to stand by Warren’s side, sensing his frustration.
“We know all about you Ms. Delacroix, and your clandestine efforts to use the equipment belonging to the United States without the approval or consent of your superiors.”
“That’s not how this came about! I can explain this…there wasn’t time when I received the call…” Dauphine finished lamely, her face flushing with the memory of how she had told the team at NASA that she would be responsible for obtaining the Cargo Plane and would process the necessary paperwork later.
“If we so choose, we could charge you with hijacking a government plane, using government owned equipment for your own personal use, and interference with a Federal investigation.” The Chief Justice finished in his solid baritone.
“Are you prepared to face a court martial to answer to these charges Ms. Delacroix?” The Chief Justice inquired.
“No, sir.” Dauphine held her chin high although tears of anger stung her eyes.
“I believe you have achieved more than most in the short amount of time you have been appointed here as the Director. Your efforts will not go unrewarded, but let’s just say, you may be a little tired…and you have had to take a sabbatical. How brief or long, will of course, depend on you. Do you understand what I am saying to you Mr. Panetiere?”
Warren stated through gritted teeth, “I understand you perfectly Mr. Chief Justice.”
“Good, now that we have ourselves an understanding,” The Chief Justice inclined his head to the Secretary of State, “we would like to have you escorted to your home as you evaluate your choices for your next position.”
“Where would that be?” Warren asked none too sweetly.
“That would be up to you, after all; this is your choice now isn’t it,” The Chief Justice said in a condescending manner.
The Chief Justice clapped Warren on the back, “This will give you time to reflect on your achievements and how your career will proceed in the years to come. Do I make myself clear Mr. Panetiere?”
“Yes, sir. If I may have a brief word with Ms. Delacroix before I go?”
“No, I don’t believe that will be necessary. We have the situation under control without having to complicate things. Now, let’s get you started with that sabbatical…”
Dauphine caught Warren’s eye and held up her cell phone for a split second, just long enough for him to catch her meaning.
“Fine, I agree with you, perhaps testing all the paintings was reaching too far.” Although he was moving forward, Warren attempted to backtrack as he was led out of the room.
Tsun Jai could be heard protesting as members of the staff were instructed to reassemble the paintings and reposition them under military supervision.
Her boisterous complaints attracted attention, which indicated she was aligned with Warren. She was forcibly removed from the hall and brought to another part of the museum for further questioning.
As Warren was led toward the side of the museum to a waiting convoy of government vehicles, he could see
a bevy of news reporters gathered around a polished looking man.
“Who’s the man being questioned by the reporters?” Warren asked the military officer beside him.
“That…would be the new Director of the National Gallery.”
Warren swallowed hard, a knot formed in the pit of his stomach, and his jaw clenched in a hard line, as he attempted to understand the meaning behind their actions.
“Sir, I have to ask you to stand still for a moment so that we can search you for any items belonging to the Museum.” The military officer patted him down, removed his keys and identification badge, and then stood facing him.
“Those keys are also to my car!” Warren snarled. The pat down complete, he stated the obvious, “Which you will be taking because it is Museum Property.”
“Your place of residence will have been searched as well,” he was told unceremoniously by the Chief Justice who had suddenly joined them.
“You will be taken to your home, where you will be retained until matters involving the Museum have been rectified. Until that time, you are not to contact anyone other than myself, or the team I have assigned to you. I won’t ask if you understand your current position, as I believe you are a smart man and will realize what is best for you. If not now, you will…in time.” The Chief Justice extended his hand, which Warren shook, while contemplating his next move.
Warren had been escorted out of the Museum and was now placed in the back of a black SUV which thrust itself into the mainstream of fast-moving vehicles, melting away to become indistinguishable.
Chapter Fifteen
Multi-Colored and Asymmetrical
A foot nudged Natanya in the ribs where she had been curled up comfortably on the floor of the living room.
“I bought breakfast. It’s not much, but it’s all I can afford right now since I’ve been out of work.” Pascal put the bag containing several coffees and assortment of bagels and cream cheese on the table.
“What time is it?” Natanya sat up from under the twist of blankets, rubbing her eyes.
“A little after nine o’clock.”
“Where is Philippe?”
“He’s out getting the overhead projector you wanted from the office.” Pascal selected one of the bagels, and then made a production of opening each of the cream cheese containers. Once open and lined up perfectly, he opened his bagel and selected a different one for half of each half, using four different cream cheeses for the entire bagel.
Natanya watched the production, not knowing if Pascal either hadn’t eaten for a while or was just enamored with cream cheese.
“He’s due back at any time, so I would get up and take a shower before he gets here, if I were you. There’s a towel for you on the shelf over the toilet. The shower curtain needs to be pulled all the way over against the wall or water will flood the floor. Use the guest shampoo and soap on the right side of the handle.”
“Sure.” Natanya stood up, stretched and proceeded to the bathroom.
“Hang up your towel when you’re done.”
Natanya stopped in the middle of the hallway. “Anything else?”
“No, I think that covers it.” Pascal picked up a broom and dustpan, and then busied himself by sweeping the miniscule crumbs under his chair.
Natanya walked swiftly down the short hall to the bathroom, shut the door and leaned against it. “Seriously?” She made a face at her reflection in the mirror, then reached around the shower curtain to start the shower. She observed the towels in their present position, on the shelf above the toilet, and where hers would soon be, hung next to the other two on the towel bar on the adjacent wall.
After entering the shower and letting the steaming hot water pour over her to ease the tension, she stood facing the showerhead. She looked to her right to see the recently unwrapped bar of soap and bottle of shampoo, then proceeded to use each.
Finished with her shower, she reached for the towel in the tiny out dated bathroom, wrapped it around her and let her hair drip onto the floor. Apparently, I can only have one towel…like that’s going to happen…
Leaning over the bathtub portion of the shower, Natanya scooped up her long hair, twisted it, letting it drip into the shower, wrapped it with a towel, then padded the short distance over to the mirror.
Wiping the mirror with her hand, she looked at her reflection. Steam curled around the circle she had created. She could see her hazel eyes, more green now because she was tired. She bent down to the sink to wash her face, and then used her finger for a toothbrush. She finished off the curtailed morning routine by brushing out her long dark hair and shifting it all to one side, where she let it curl up at the ends.
Slipping back on the clothes she had on when she arrived. Natanya left the bathroom feeling somewhat refreshed, if only her thoughts could be cleansed as easily.
Natanya flipped on the television, but then thought better of it, not wanting to hear the latest development, she turned it back off.
“I have to go pick up Philippe. I’ll be back in a few.” Pascal called out before leaving, “Don’t use your cell phone. It’s too dangerous, and don’t use my land line phone to call anyone either.”
“Got it.”
“All right. I’ll be back soon with Philippe.” Pascal locked the door behind him, leaving Natanya standing in the kitchen looking at the array of bagels and cream cheese spreads.
Shrugging, Natanya sat down, chose a bagel, then, as if to prove a point, just one cream cheese spread. Crunching her bagel, Natanya thought she could find out just a little about what was going on.
She raised up from her chair, a little sore from sleeping on the floor, found the television remote, then eased herself back down on the chair in the kitchen of the one bedroom apartment.
A few successive commercials let her finish her bagel and coffee, and then the news began with their lead story, the copied Vermeer. The Conservatory denied any knowledge and declined further comment. A statement from a museum employee followed, detailing the lipstick staining the picture, and how it needed to be cleaned, then the possible switch at Signature Art Conservatory. Her name was then brought up and bandied about as a possible art forger and art thief. Philippe was considered as an accomplice, and was also wanted for questioning. The newscaster went on to say a technician from NASA named Dauphine Delacroix, was called in to utilize the Atomic Oxygenated cleaning process on the painting.
“Nice.”
Natanya found the button on the remote control, and pushed it, which stopped the voices from broadcasting their accusations, then threw it across the room. The back of the remote dislodged upon making contact with the wall, releasing its load of batteries that fell separately on to the floor. Satisfied with the resulting damage, Natanya calmly resumed sipping her coffee. Thoughts of calling the Conservatory plagued her as she sought to distract herself with Pascal’s eclectic mix of CDs, the newspaper crossword and word search puzzles, along with the various cream cheese mixtures.
After several hours of waiting, she finally gave in, ultimately consuming each type of cream cheese blend. Then, she placed a call to her old place of work.
“Geoffrey? It’s me…what’s going on?” Natanya whispered even though she didn’t need to.
“Nat?” Geoffrey said loudly, cupping the phone and closing the folding door to the security booth. He whispered, “Nat, is that you?”
“Yes, Geoffrey, it’s me. Tell me quickly, what’s going on there?”
“Mrs. Gleason is barking orders to everyone… and Daryl, you should see him…his clothes are rumpled and he even has stubbly growth on his face…”
“Geoffrey…the painting…what about the painting?”
“Oh, right, well that’s really interesting because the Conservatory is denying that you had anything to do with it, and they’re saying the original is at the museum! They’re saying you are on vacation or something now…I don’t know, the whole thing is being covered up like it never happened.”
“Hmmm, that
is unusual.”
“You’re still wanted for questioning though. They’re getting ready to go to the press with the ‘new’ Director of The National Gallery while announcing there was a mistake… they’re going to declare the actual Vermeer as having been given to NASA to be cleaned and will be away from the museum for an undisclosed amount of time for restoration.”
“The new director? What happened to the current director?”
“I don’t know…that’s what I’ve heard. Someone’s coming, I’ve gotta go…oh wait, someone called here named Dauphine and wanted to get a message to you that there was something else in the painting. They wanted you to call them back about it…Amy took the call.”
“Who wants me to call them?”
“The NASA lady…Dauphine something…”
“Okay, thanks Geoff.” Natanya disconnected, then activated a search for Dauphine Delacroix of NASA and placed the call.
Chapter Sixteen
Mainstream of Influences
Dauphine had been speaking to someone at Signature Art Conservatory, when she was disconnected, “Wait…I can’t hear you…hello, hello?” Dauphine removed the cell phone from her ear to see how many bars were showing, and then glanced up to find the Chief Justice in the doorway.
“You don’t need to be making any calls; you have a plane to catch Ms. Delacroix.”
“You did that…you disconnected me?”
“I hope the next time we meet; it will be under different circumstances. You made a good choice when you endorsed the new Director during the impromptu press conference. I’m sure NASA will be happy to have you back. Have a pleasant flight Ms. Delacroix.” The Chief Justice left as silently as he entered.
Without thinking it through, Dauphine unsnapped the first strap to release the cover of the equipment, and then hurriedly moved around each of the units shutting down fields, lights, and fans covering the equipment. Calibration of the units would have to be completed upon return to NASA anyway, she thought, so she could approach her task in less than her usual careful manner.
