Code of Siman

by Dayna Rubin

  “There’s no dust in here, not on a single box or crate…” Gage frowned as he looked to find Tsun Jae.

  Tsun Jae was practically inside a large crate, an inventory gun in her hand. She aimed it at each item, the beep of the gun ringing out with each item checked.

  These items continually revolving in and out. Very good inventory control. I agree, they would not be hidden here,” Tsun Jae placed the top back on the crate and descended the stepladder.

  “Your grandfather designed the addition to this place, didn’t he?”

  “Yes, he did.”

  “And you are also studying architecture…following in your grandfather’s footsteps so to speak…”

  “No. He make these stuffy old buildings. I make green design with water from sky and energy from sun to heat home. All recyclable and safe for air. Not like Grandfather. He show me some techniques I use. Good techniques. Every house, even Earth friendly house need a little magic.” Tsun Jae tilted her head down and smiled deviously, gone as quickly as it had flitted across her face.

  “We go to other part of museum, part where we are not allowed. We tidy up here first,” Tsun Jae said as she bent to pick up loose pieces of packing material.

  From the door, they could hear the keypad being activated, voices, and then quiet again.

  “Grandfather work with National Defense Research Committee for Scientific research of weapons during war. He work on bombs for a couple years, then went back to Harvard when war over.”

  “Did he ever talk about what he was working on with the committee?”

  “I told you, he work on weapons, that’s all I know.” Tsun Jae replaced the laser inventory gun within its charger.

  “Could he have been part of the resistance effort in the United States?” Gage asked Tsun Jae.

  “The Resistance of World War II? Against Hitler?” Tsun Jae crossed her arms and tapped her lip while she thought.

  Gage and Dauphine looked on expectantly.

  “Not information given to me.” Tsun Jae picked up the step stool and moved it back to its position with several others in a cabinet.

  “What kind of magic are you talking about? The magic you reference in architecture?” Gage asked.

  “Ah, yes magic in buildings, that is the art of it, in architecture.” A smile illuminated Tsun Jae’s face as she spoke of her true love.

  “Could there be magic in this building? The National Gallery?” Dauphine asked.

  “I want to know what she means by magic inside a building,” Gage interrupted.

  “Yes, you want to know magic…? Everyone want to know about magic.”

  “In a building…magic in a building, is what you are talking about?” Gage prompted.

  “Yes, magic is illusion, and illusion is having something you believe to be real but isn’t. Maybe a wall that is a door, maybe a shape make noise louder, or make noise quieter, maybe it hides, or maybe it reveals. That is magic in a building.”

  “And your grandfather knows this…this magic concept?”

  “Yes, he know very well. He teach me. Little bit at a time. Important to use wisely, with every lesson, must learn more patience and discipline. Not easy. Sometimes Tsun Jae not want to know more, but become curious and ask for more teaching.”

  “Then, we need to look for the place of magic. Here, at the National Gallery,” Dauphine’s confusion started to clear.

  “Yes, but maybe we not like what we find.”

  “What could happen if we find some hidden magical aspect of the building?”

  If not intended for you to find, it bring something bad…very bad.”

  “Your grandfather had said ‘it is time’,” Gage again prompted Tsun Jae.

  “Yes, maybe he okay if we find magic here. We will be warned if not okay. Then we stop.”

  Gage and Dauphine looked at one another quizzically, appearing not to buy in to what Tsun Jae was saying.

  “What bad things could happen, Tsun Jae?”

  “Bad, very bad things, maybe even death!”

  Okay, okay…that’s just not in my understanding of architecture. We’re only looking for hidden paintings somewhere in the gallery…”

  “You’ll see, NASA lady, we find what we supposed to find, when we supposed to find it. It’s very early in day, not a lot of people here yet.”

  “Let’s go.” Gage gave Dauphine a disapproving look, then followed Tsun Jae out of the storage room.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Proper Proportion and Dramatic Demonstration

  “Philippe, you recall how you wanted to be delivered to the doorstep instead of taking the long trek on a gravel road?”

  “Yesss…”

  “Your wish has been granted, the pilot and our other helpers supplied by Mr. Abramovich have said there is a helicopter pad available to us right on the grounds,” Warren said as he walked back to his seat, buckling himself back in for the landing.

  “The Chillon Castle in Switzerland is much larger than the Mespelbrunn Castle in Bavaria. It is partially surrounded by a lake, having once had a drawbridge, but now has a permanent wooden bridge.” Warren described the castle as they circled it overhead, the late afternoon sun giving it an ethereal glow.

  “The princely castle has a circular tower on each corner, it housed prisoners at one time, and has had a poem written about it by Lord Byron. Conservation efforts to restore the castle have been underway since 2002, whereupon the castle has been made public, bringing in thousands of visitors each year.”

  “The hidden paintings could have already been found,” Philippe proclaimed after hearing that a recent conservation had already taken place, not to mention so many tourists having occupied the grounds.

  “Yes, we’ll have to take a look around, they could still be here,” Warren said solemnly.

  Warren, Pascal, and Philippe entered the castle, leaving the pilot and the assistants waiting near the helicopter, to be called if needed.

  Warren began interpreting the heated conversation going on near them between a thin man who was sputtering and shaking his head emphatically while listening to an equally thin woman berate him, “The treasure hunt for the children is not fun…not interesting, not enough for the kids to find…nothing interactive, he’s being told. Chateau Chillon management is unhappy…the man appears to be a representative of a marketing company, and seems to be trying to defend his previously submitted activity package. It seems they want something else. Something more interesting and interactive…they want some kind of secret doors leading to other rooms…codes to decipher…he says he can do it, but it will take a while… I can’t understand the rest of what they’re saying, as they’ve moved farther away,” Warren began looking around the castle for a clue to where the next group of paintings would be hidden.

  “I’ve got it…just follow my lead,” Philippe said as he pushed past Warren.

  “Hi, my French is not good enough to converse in…you speak English?” Philippe asked.

  “Yes…” The Director of Activities hesitated before she continued. “I’m sorry, who are you?”

  She had a pixie haircut; the brown wisps swirled about her head like the frosting on a cupcake. Her eyes were a soft brown that matched the chestnut color of her hair.

  “I am Philippe Rousseau, and I would like to take a moment to explain how the use of our newest technology can bring you an entirely new element to your younger Patrons,” Philippe presented his idea, but didn’t wait for her to say no.

  “I don’t know if I have the time to give you…you didn’t have an appointment…” She looked annoyed as she watched the other man frantically calling someone to relate his difficulties. Her words were sharp, delivered without space between them, all in one breath.

  Turning back to Philippe she said, “Mr. Rousseau, quickly, tell me your ideas, tell me what you have in mind.” She led him over to another area of the lobby, stopped, folded her arms and nodded, “Go ahead.”

  “We integrate the use of an inte
ractive tablet for the older children, since they are so technologically adept, in this way, we can take a painting or a statue and magically transform them; showing wondrous elements hidden within its depths, make it come to life for them. These can also be changed so that return visits won’t be repetitive and become boring.” Philippe completed his delivery just as he saw that he was losing the Activity Director’s attention.

  “I like it. What would you do for the younger children?”

  “Well, Francis,” Philippe began after reading her name tag, “I will have areas within the castle for the children to find objects they exchange for the next clue, until they receive their ultimate treasure; it can begin and end at any point, since it will be redeemable by the number of stations they visit. That way, if a parent only visits a portion of the castle one day, and another portion at a later time, the child is entertained, no one is slighted, and they can leave whenever they want.”

  “Where would you put these stations? I would think they would be a type of kiosk, yes?” Francis asked.

  “I would like to take a look around, if you wouldn’t mind. Our company has many more ideas to utilize if you would like to work with us,” Philippe drew in his breath as he waited.

  “Yes, I like your gumption and your ideas. Please let any of the associates know you have my approval. Please change your tag to vendor at the front desk, and have a look around,” Francis snapped off the words quickly.

  “My associates and I may take some time to prepare by looking at the Chateau Chillon for all of its history, as well as its available space.”

  “Of course.”

  “Thank you for allowing us this visit without an appointment. We flew in by helicopter hoping only to view the castle, but this is more than we could have anticipated.” Philippe followed her to the front desk where he received a bar-coded lanyard for himself and his colleagues.

  “Wonderful. Check back with me when you have finished. At least you see how obtaining our account is valuable. I appreciate the dedication to your trade, something our former client should have thought about.” Francis huffed; her slender shoulders rose, causing the sweater she had draped across them to slip slightly as she looked across the room at the unfortunate Vendor Representative still trying to convey his circumstance to someone at his company.

  Francis waved him away as he approached, giving Philippe his opportunity to get started.

  Warren walked toward him, eager to hear how the plan had been received. “How did she receive your pitch?”

  “We’re in. She loved the idea, and I have to admit, I’m pretty fond of the idea myself. I may have to start looking into castles as a client; there is a lot of marketing potential just waiting to be developed.”

  “That’s certainly looking forward to a positive end to our mission.”

  “Could it work out any other way? You and I are at the helm of this ship, Warren, and we’re astute enough not to let it sink.”

  Warren felt he had reached a higher level of understanding with Philippe. “We all have a stake in this now, as well as a responsibility.”

  The two men joined up with Pascal, handing him his I.D. as they began their hunt for clues as to the whereabouts of the hidden paintings.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Color Field Painting

  Natanya reflected for a moment on Tsun Jae as she had pulled the vest out of the cabinet, along with a magnetic name badge, a button-down shirt, skirt and a pair of shoes, pushing them into Natanya’s hands saying, “Shower…you smell…ahh kinda weird…you put on these…talk to me on the transmitter. Channel set to me only.”

  Natanya had accepted the clothes, and watched quietly as Tsun Jae started to leave the employee locker room.

  “Tsun Jae?” Natanya had called out to her.

  Tsun Jae had then held the door open, looked back at Natanya and waited. She didn’t say anything, she didn’t have to, her expression said it for her. Natanya realized now that she was more or less occupying her so that Tsun Jae, Gage and Dauphine could efficiently determine the whereabouts of the paintings.

  “Nothing…Tsun Jae…I’ll catch up,” Natanya had said to Tsun Jae thus allowing Tsun Jae to leave, the solid steel door closed slowly behind her.

  Natanya looked around, sighed, then deposited the clothes on the long counter near the displayed instructions for safely removing any chemicals from toxic substances encountered on the job.

  She quickly showered, washing the coffee out of her hair. Natanya wasn’t sure how quickly she’d be running out to pick up the next Carmel Macchiato; the once loved aroma had worn out its welcome.

  Toweling herself off, she then blew dry her hair, not cognizant of anything except finishing quickly and catching up to the rest of them.

  The uniform on now, she adjusted the sweater, a bit small to suit her figure, which was a little fuller than Tsun Jae’s waif like form. She was also taller, so the skirt was a little shorter than it should be, but not indecently so.

  Satisfied with her appearance, she positioned the volume on the two-way radio to be sure she could hear it, if someone tried to reach her.

  Lastly, she tried on the shoes, which were a ballet type of flat. Finding that it stretched enough to accommodate her longer foot, she was finally dressed and ready to go.

  Making sure she was presentable, she checked herself one last time in the mirror, secured the magnetic nametag, and left the employee locker room. She was happy not to run into anyone, as she would have loathed having to explain herself, not being very adept at lying.

  The gallery was practically empty. There were a few patrons studying various pieces of art, the occasional older couple studying their maps in a haze of directional confusion, along with other employees busily embarking on their task.

  Natanya was unhurried in her demeanor as she moved from the central lobby area into the exhibit hall, looking around her to see what they may have put in place of the Vermeer. She knew where Woman Holding a Balance had been, and plotted a steady course in that direction.

  Natanya reached the area where the painting had previously been displayed. She walked toward it, halted by a patron who suddenly rushed to her side. His eyes darted back and forth, and he seemed to be in a state beyond agitation.

  “What do you know about these paintings? He indicated the Vermeer hanging on the wall near them.

  “Well, that’s easy enough to answer. The painting was created by Johannes Vermeer; the exquisitely blended contours of this painting have…”

  “No, that’s not my question.” The Patron shifted uneasily on his feet, licking his lips, never ceasing his continual perusal of the room.

  “Um, that’s okay…just let me know what you need to know. I would be happy to answer any question you have about the painting.” Natanya smiled brightly, quite pleased with herself, as she believed her representation of a National Gallery employee was believable.

  “This Vermeer, is this really the original painting?” The man asked suddenly, small beads of perspiration sprung up on his forehead, and the smell of him was like that of an animal in fear, as it drifted up into her nostrils.

  Startled, she didn’t know how to reply, but he pressed her. “The paintings…if there’s two of ‘em, how do you know which one is the real one? Let’s say the gallery is standing by this one, so what about the other one?”

  After he finished speaking, she had the overwhelming impulse to wipe her face as small bits of spittle had splattered her when he spoke. Instead, she plastered a small tight smile upon her face. “What do you mean by another painting? There must be some confusion.” Natanya tried diffusing the situation by laughing lightly. “Oh you must mean the other Vermeer…A Woman Holding a Balance…well…that was a misunderstanding, you see the Gallery had thought that the painting had been switched with another, but in reality, it um, it didn’t actually happen…” Natanya finished lamely.

  “There’s another painting…it was all over the news about this other painting…”
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  “Oh, I wasn’t aware of that…” Natanya started distancing herself from the patron and the picture.

  “You need to tell me if it is a fake, and if the Gallery is playing it off as the real one…you need to take me to it…the news said The National Gallery still has the real painting…the Woman Holding a Balance.” The man became more insistent, creeping closer to her as she edged away.

  “No…I can see the Gallery says this is the real one…maybe the one you were given…um, I mean the other one you heard about is…just…um…you know, why don’t I get someone to help us out with this,” Natanya had begun to panic and had tried to correct her error.

  Her arm was caught in his vice-like grip, his upper lip raised as he snarled, “What do you mean the picture I was given? What do you know about it?”

  Natanya could see the hood of his sweatshirt hanging limply on his back as he drew her closer, his breath hot against her cheek.

  “I don’t know why I said that…I don’t know what I’m talking about…maybe you could ask someone else…” His grip loosened slightly as he weighed her words.

  Natanya began to breathe again, not realizing she had been holding her breath. She began to think he might not realize they had met before, suddenly thankful for the change in her appearance.

  His grip relaxed further, “Yeah, it’s been on my mind…the news had said there was a second picture out there…and…”

  “Everything okay here?” A staff member from the gallery came in, older knowing eyes peered at her from his smooth caramel skin, the lines around his eyes visible while the smile was absent as he glanced between Natanya and the patron.

  “Yeah, sure. This gentleman had some questions about…”

  The patron cut her off, “Just general questions…”

  “Then why do you have a hold on her arm?”

  “Sorry. I guess I didn’t realize…I’ll be leaving now.” He released his grip on her arm and turned to walk away.

  The gallery employee came to her, asked her again if she was okay.

  “Yeah, I’m fine, but I need to, ahh take a break…I think.” Natanya glanced around nervously as she watched the patron move farther away.