by Scott Soloff
"This is the prototype for Vermeer's 'Mother and Child'. It's good, good enough to pass an initial inspection. Not good enough for intense scrutiny. It will do just fine for what we need. You'll take care of the details."
"No problem. It will be ready in a few hours. I’ll call you as soon as it’s done."
The phone rings again. 'Private Number'. "Mr. Picker… You will…"
"Put her on the phone."
Maybe twenty or thirty seconds pass. "Picker, I'm okay. I haven't been hurt, darling. I've been doing some thinking…"
Mechanical voice grabbed the phone.
"As I was saying… You will meet us… at a location… which we designate…No cops…
"Look, I don't give a shit about the painting. But, I will tell you this, harm one hair on that girl's head and I will personally put a bullet in your brain Mr. Gambelli."
A very long pause. No robot voice this time: "I will call you with instructions first thing in the morning Mr. Picker. Good-day."
"Do you think that was a good idea, you know, using his name like that?" Nathan giving the queer eye.
"Like I said, I want to keep them off balance."
"Hope you know what you're doin' boss." TJ's not looking too comfortable.
I find a recent number added to my phone and press dial. "Simmons speaking."
"Bob, I think the time has come to ask for your help." I filled the Interpol agent in on what had just transpired and told him about what I had in mind.
"Sounds risky Picker. To be perfectly honest, I can't come up with anything better."
"Stay to close to your phone. We'll meet up tomorrow before my meeting with Gambelli and Morelli."
Caught in a crossfire
Danny Morelli was pointing a gun directly at Kelly's chest.
We were standing in a 20' x 40' basement below Gambelli's art gallery on 2nd Street just above Market. When I say we, I mean Kelly, TJ and myself and of course, Danny.
Two significant events occurred the following day. Here is what happened.
First thing in the morning, Connor, unaware of what had transpired the previous day, sent an email with the following message:
'Check wall.'
The anon site had a link sending me to the following article appearing in the online edition of ArtCult: Le Journal Du Marche De L'art. This reproduction of the news brief is translated faithfully from the French:
New Details about Vermeer Find
The now famous controversy surrounding the research of Professor James Thomas Middletown appears to be moving forward. The respected Oxford University professor has provided more documents lending credibility to his claim of a previously unknown work by Johannes Vermeer.
Earlier this week facsimiles of historical documents were forwarded to several institutions including selected museums, universities and a handful of art publications.
This material outlines the timeline of what is being referred to as 'Mother and Child' from when it was gifted to Vermeer’s sister until it ended up in the hands of the German Gestapo with the occupation of France.
This body of material includes original receipts, relevant inventories and thoroughly documented family histories. One black and white photograph depicts the painting in the family’s suites in France prior to the German occupation.
Researchers throughout Europe are poring over the material in an attempt to track down the painting itself.
We will report further developments as they become known.
At this point events began to unfold very quickly. Nathan walked in the door. "The painting's ready."
Last evening Nate had rigged the painting with an SZA transmitter. This is an exceptional piece of equipment. The SZA-18 is an ultra-miniature UHF transmitter equipped with a prolonged battery life. Basically, it serves two purposes. One is that it will transmit sounds and conversations to a remote receiver. The other is that it acts as a location beacon.
Remarkably, it is small enough to be concealed just about anywhere. It's most impressive feature is that it is really powerful. In addition, it is voice activated which preserves battery life and makes it virtually undetectable from anti-bugging devices.
"Got the receiver?"
"Right here."
"Nate, the bad guys don't know you. I need you to come with us and pass the receiver to Special Agent Simmons."
"Not a problem. When do we saddle up?"
"Any minute now. Put the painting in the back of the car. Where's TJ?"
"Be here any minute."
The cell rang. It was Gambelli. "Omni Hotel, 4th and Chestnut, room 404. Twelve noon. Bring the Negro. No dogs!"
I called Bob Simmons and brought him up to date.
TJ showed up and we got into the Morgan. “Kato, backseat.” Nate took his car. Time for the showdown at the O.K. Corral.
Once in town, I parked the car. We entered the hotel lobby and took the elevator to the fourth floor.
"Where's the painting?" Gambelli.
"Close by. Where's Kelly?"
"Close by. Take off all your clothes. Put these on." TJ and I stripped and put on the green hospital scrubs and booties that Nick Gambelli handed us. Our clothes, cell phones and wallets went into a brown paper bag.
He led us down the hotel's back stairway into a service area and onto a loading dock. We were ushered into a white windowless van. Gambelli turns around from the front seat, "Painting?"
"In the car, parked on Fourth Street." The alley is a one way street heading the wrong way. Nick heads west for two blocks, makes a left on 6th, then on Chestnut and finally onto 4th Street. He pulls over in front of the Morgan, pulls my keys from the paper bag and goes to retrieve the painting.
Nick opens the back door of the van and loses his composure for the first time. "I thought I told you no dogs."
"Just trying to keep you honest Nicky." I hop from the back of the truck, take the keys from him and fetch the painting. "Kato, come." The monster bounds from the car and follows me into the back of the van.
Before closing the back door Nick said, "One false move Picker and I'll shoot that dog."
"Not if he kills you first Nicky. Don't worry; the only thing that I want is to get Kelly back in one piece. The painting is all yours."
At this point, I don't know where we're going but it can't be too far. Less than five minutes later the van pulls over and Nick turns the engine off.
What happens next is not my fault. Honest.
Once outside the van Nick has us open the storm doors to the basement. From where I am standing I can see the end of the SEPTA line on Market Street. I assume that we're behind Gambelli's gallery on 2nd Street.
"Into the basement, both of you. Grab the painting. Leave the dog outside."
"Kato, stay." TJ goes down the stairs into the basement first, followed by me and then Nicky. At the other end of the room Danny Morelli is pointing a gun directly at Kelly's chest.
From where I'm standing Kelly appears to be unharmed. TJ whispers to me, "Hey, man, we gonna die?"
Why does everyone ask me that? At the risk of being redundant I tell him, "Yes. But… Not… Today!"
Nicky raises his voice ever so slightly. "Shut up, both of you." At this point, he is standing directly behind us. Out of the corner of my eye I see him pull an automatic weapon from behind his back. Shouldn't have done that…
"Let me see the painting," Nicky said.
It's now or never. I slowly begin to pull the butcher paper off the frame. "Nicky, this is as good a time as any, considering that you're about to shoot me in the back. Why did they have to kill Doo Wop?"
"I guess it doesn't hurt to tell you now. Those two idiots were going to buy the picture. No one was supposed to get hurt. But the old man was stubborn, wouldn't give it up. They just meant to give the old guy some encouragement. Turns out he wasn't strong enough to take it."
"Which two idiots, Nicky."
"That moron Tommy and this one here, Danny."
Well, that clears th
at up. "And Joey?"
"That was me. He was crying like a baby, wanted to go to the cops. Said no one was supposed to get hurt. Loose ends and all that, you know."
"Yeah, I know. How did you hook up with LaVache?"
He chuckles. "You know about that, huh? I told them that you weren't stupid. From what I figured out, the value of the painting was more than I could handle. No way I could explain where it came from. Uncle Carmine put me on to LaVache. Anything else, smart boy?"
"No Nicky, that pretty much covers it. Thanks for sharing."
Nicky Gambelli raises the gun and points it at my head. I told him not to do that. What happens next occurs simultaneously and practically in the blink of an eye.
See if you can picture this: As Danny Morelli raises his gun from Kelly's chest to her head an apparition the size of a bear starts running from the corner of the basement. With each step Uncle Moe transforms into ever more degrees of opaqueness. By the time that he reaches Danny, Moe Aronson is a solid as a rock. With his massive arms, Moe embraces Danny from behind, lifts him from the ground and pivots so that Danny is facing the back wall.
Nicky's arm pivots a few degrees to the right and fires into Uncle Moe's back. The sound of the shot in the enclosed area is deafening. The bullet passes right through Moe into Danny's back, through his heart and out his chest. Moe collapses to the floor.
The moment that the shot is fired one hundred and twenty five pounds of German Shepherd launches through the basement entrance. His jaws lock onto Nicky's throat with a vice like grip. And squeezes. Nicky Gambelli thrashes around for all of five seconds and the smashes into the concrete floor. There is blood everywhere.
For the briefest of moments time comes to a halt. I'm knocked out of reverie by the sound of sirens speeding down the alley. I run over and kneel down next to my Uncle.
"Uncle Moe, Uncle Moe, are you alright?" The old guy's starting to fade back to his natural state.
"How'd I do, laddie?"
"You did great, Uncle, unbelievably great." Cops in black bullet proof vests are streaming into the basement. Out there in front is Special Agent Robert Simmons. "I just have to know, are you okay?"
"You mean the bullet. Aye, son, I'm just fine. Bullets can not be harming the likes of a ghost."
"Moe, that wasn't very ghost like, you know, grabbing that guy and turning him like that. Jeez, I didn't even know that it was even possible."
"I do not recommend trying it. The effort was the problem, had to use too much energy. I'll be fine. You won't be minding if you don't see me for a couple of days, will ya? Think I'll be taking a wee rest."
"Not a problem, Uncle." And with that he was gone.
I stood up. Kelly walked over and put her arms around me. Kissed the side of my face and whispered, "My hero. I knew you would come."
"Yeah, about that. This may not be the right time, but I've been thinking. You know, it would really mean a lot to me if you stayed."
Kelly gave me this deep throated laugh. "It would mean a lot to you, is that right?"
"Yeah, I mean… you know, the way that I feel about you and all. It's just that…"
Another laugh. "Okay tough guy. I'm been thinking about it too. There might be one or two small things to talk about, but yeah, I'll stay."
Just between you and me, my heart filled with joy.
6 Months Later
"30… 30… Do I hear 30 million dollars…"
'Mother and Child' is being auctioned today in New York City.
"I have 30 million, do I hear 35 million, 35… 35…"
This is one of the two most prestigious auction houses in the world. I hesitate to mention which one in fear of a lawsuit involving libel.
"I have 35 million…"
If you find yourself overwhelmed with curiosity, you can always Google what former chairman of a major auction house was sentenced to a year in prison for conspiring to fix commissions.
Earlier in the day, Kelly and I had made a quick stop at the bank. We then headed to The Big Apple to witness the auction of the century.
Some of the post Nick Gambelli shootout was interesting.
The immediate aftermath involved a couple of days of interrogation by local, state and federal authorities. For the most part Laurence Finegold did the talking. The one thing that law enforcement couldn't work out is why all the fuss over a reproduction painting that wasn't a copy of any known work. Equally intriguing was that it was not meant to deceive; it was signed Anthony DeAngelo clear as day in the lower right hand corner.
Nick Gambelli and Danny Morelli both were pronounced dead at the scene. It didn't take long for any government agency to decide not to press charges. Special Agent Robert Simmons of Interpol produced an audio recording with Nicky's confession to all the events leading up to his death.
"Aye son, did everything work out as ye hoped?" Two days after becoming a corporeal being, albeit a temporary one, Uncle Moe came strolling through the door while TJ, Kelly and I were having breakfast before another go around with the authorities.
"Looking good, Uncle Moe. Feeling better, I hope?" Kelly asked. The nature of Kelly's relationship with Moe had obviously changed after the little incident in the gallery basement.
"Feelin' like a new man, lassie. Never been better."
I couldn't help but laugh. Kelly Lane talking to an apparition. Who would have thought? As for the painting, there were still a few lose ends before actually putting it up for auction.
While the days following the 'incident' were more than a little time consuming and distracting; the best was yet to come.
"Check tomorrow's headlines." Connor was calling me directly on my cell. It was mid-summer.
"Which newspaper?" I wanted to know.
"Doesn't matter, bro. Take your pick."
The following morning, a Saturday, I drove to the store and bought a New York Times. On the front page, above the fold, was the following story:
Vatican Cardinal Stuns Art World
In what appears to be an unprecedented move for the Vatican, Cardinal Francesco Carlo Calgiliano announced today the return of "Mother and Child" by Johannes Vermeer to what the Church is calling its rightful owner. A high ranking member of the Vatican Bank, Calgiliano convened a news conference and made the following statement: "The rightful ownership of this painting has been established beyond all reasonable doubt. The Vatican cannot, and will not, justify a lengthy legal process where the outcome is obvious. Arrangements are being made for a timely and safe return to the rightful owner. The Vatican is pleased to be in the position to make the damaged parties involved whole once again."
A complete printed copy of the statement was provided to the press and made available on news organizations’ websites worldwide.
All the pieces were falling in place for the eventual sale of the painting. That little piece of manipulation involving Cardinal Calgiliano was not as difficult as you may think. When this project first got off the ground, Connor was musing aloud that the last piece of the puzzle was the Vermeer being Nazi war loot.
"It's not difficult to imagine some of this war time treasure ending up in the hands of the church." Connor's reasoning continued, "It's a two step process, really. The first is to find someone in the Vatican where we can apply some pressure. The other step is to have someone with enough clout or contacts to handle the negotiations."
"You got someone in mind?" I asked.
"Don't sweat it, little brother. Take care of your end; let me take care of the provenance."
Huh? Little brother! Sonofabitch is only a year older.
Take care of it he did. Eckhart did what can only be considered magic regarding hacking one of the world's largest private banks. The Institute for Works of Religion, more commonly known as the Vatican Bank, is located within Vatican City. It is managed by a professional CEO who, in turn, reports to a committee of cardinals.
It was in the 1980s that the Vatican Bank was involved in a far reaching financial scandal. What is pub
licly known is that Archbishop Paul Marcinkus was about to be indicted but was never brought to trial. What is not known anywhere is that Cardinal Francesco Carlo Calgiliano was a serious player in this debacle. Through extreme cleverness and politics, his role in this shocking controversy never came to light.
Until Eckhart uncovered incriminating and irrefutable evidence that would severely damage Calgiliano's reputation and career, even to this day.
This was joyous news for us. The remaining piece was having an effective liaison to deal with the Cardinal.
"I have someone in mind Picker. I'll handle it, don't worry." I had no reason to question Connor's effectiveness. Everything that he had done to this point was better than I could have ever expected. I decided to drop the matter.
"Do I have 40 million… The gentleman in the back is now high bidder at 40 million… Ladies and gentleman, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity… 45 million anyone, 45 million…
Kelly and I were observing the proceeding from the back of the room. "Excuse me darling, I have to use the restroom." She leaned in, ran her fingers through my hair and kissed my cheek.
A couple of moments pass and I sense someone standing next to me. LaVache.
"Monsieur Picker, how nice to see you again."
"And you, Jean Pierre."
"It's a pity about the painting." Yeah, a pity that he didn't get it.
"I don't suppose it would help you to know that it's not real."
"No difference, Mon ami. By the way, a little secret between you and me. The gentleman that I work with made it very clear that you were to be…"
"Eliminated?"
"Oui."
"And you didn't because…?"
"Very simple, Monsieur. You conducted yourself with honor throughout this entire affair."
"Plus, I didn't shoot you when I had the chance."
"There is that."
Unexpectedly, Uncle Moe leaned over and whispered in my ear. "Laddie, this man knew your father. You might say that they were friends, of sorts." Why he whispered is beyond me, no one can hear him.
"Huh?"
"There's more, boyo. He's the one that handled the deal with the Bead Mumbler." Moe was talking about the Cardinal.
