Secret Scouts and The Lost Leonardo

by Mr.

  Sophie looked at him and wondered what he was getting at.

  “Your father is the best in his field, he’ll know a real Leonardo when he sees one. But he’s never held an actual codex in his hands...” Hans closed his eyes and seemed to lose himself momentarily in his own thoughts. “A thing like that… you have to have touched it, to feel how heavy it is, how soft that old paper is, and…” He opened his eyes and inhaled deeply, as if it were his last breath. “The scent of a lost era, the rich scent of the paper. Once you’ve smelled it, you’ll remember it forever. When you know what a page like that feels like... the way it brushes against your fingers…” He held his hand in the air and rubbed his thumb and index finger theatrically together. “Oh yes, only then are you able to compare.”

  “And the value,” he continued after a brief pause. “The value of the secrets Leonardo dared to write down, if you only knew…”

  “Well, we’re out of luck, because there’s nowhere we can touch or smell a codex. Or do you happen to be Bill Gates’ best friend. If so, we could just swing by?” Sophie said facetiously.

  Hans had to laugh at her shrewd remark. “Unfortunately non. And the chances of discovering an unknown Leonardo are about as big as the chances of me having The Concert hanging on my wall.”

  “The what?”

  “The Concert. An extremely beautiful painting by Johannes Vermeer that was stolen from the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum in Boston in 1990, along with a number of other artworks. It’s worth two hundred million and is still missing to this day.” He raised an eyebrow and glanced sideways.

  “Would be fabulous, non? That thing hanging on your wall so you could look at it every day,” he chuckled.

  “But what I meant to say was that the possibility that there is still another old manuscript or codex by Leonardo out there somewhere is basically zilch. I’m almost certain all of Leonardo’s works are known. They’re in museums all over the world.” Hans paused again for a moment. “There are, however, a few Leonardo da Vinci manuscripts here in Paris.”

  “Awesome, can we go look at them?”

  “Hmm, that’s not so easy. Those manuscripts are in the Bibliothèque de l’Institut de France.” His eyes darted back and forth as he thought. “We can’t just show up and inspect the manuscripts. You can’t simply walk into the library. It’s only accessible to members of the institute or employees from the institute or one of the five academies. And even then there are strict conditions. At least two members of the institute have to put in a request to the director, Mrs. Arnault, who eventually decides who can go in and who can’t.”

  Frustrated, Sophie stared forlornly into the distance. Hans turned around and saw that Lisa and her father had fallen far behind. He hesitated and then muttered something.

  “What?”

  “Nothing, just mumbling to myself. Come on, keep walking, we’re almost there.”

  Hans grabbed his phone and made a call. “Françoise?” he said with a French accent.

  Sophie tried to follow the conversation, but she couldn’t understand a thing. Hans spoke fluent French. He seemed to be trying his best to calm down the person on the other end of the line. He switched rapidly from howls of laughter to wild gesticulations and back again.

  “Merci, au revoir,” Hans said at the end of the conversation.

  “What was that about? I know for sure you said the name of the library where the manuscripts are,” Sophie said.

  “Little eavesdropper,” Hans laughed.

  “Can we get in?” Sophie brightened up. “Who is Françoise?”

  “Françoise is Mrs. Arnault, the library’s director, an old friend of mine. I have a couple of very old books lying around my house that she’d like to have a look at. She’s been asking about them for a long time. I just told her she can come by next week. And in return I can visit the library this afternoon to look at a few manuscripts.”

  “Cool! Then we’ll see if they resemble each other!”

  “Whoa, steady on, you can’t come with me. Sorry. The invitation is for me alone and that’s already quite exceptional.”

  “But what use is that?”

  “Hey! I got rid of your earache for you, didn’t I?” Hans said suddenly and firmly.

  “Uh, yeah,” stammered Sophie.

  “Well then, just trust me.” He winked at her. “And don’t tell your father yet, okay? He’s got a good job, a family... I have none of that. So just keep it to yourself for now. I’ll take care of it. Look, there it is!” He stopped and pointed straight ahead. “Let’s wait for your father and sister,” he said as he turned around.

  Sophie was so caught up in her conversation with Hans that she hadn’t paid attention to where she was walking. Before she knew it she was standing in the Place du Carrousel, an enormous square bordering the Tuileries Garden, the public gardens of the former royal palace. From the Place du Carrousel she had a great view of the Musée du Louvre.

  Hans noticed her astonishment. “Yep, now that’s a real museum!” he said proudly, as if he had built it himself.

  In the middle of the square, towering above her, was the world-famous glass pyramid. Sophie looked at the thousands of people strolling back and forth across the square. Some were staring at the building while eating sandwiches, and others were taking pictures of each other in front of the glass pyramid. A few street vendors were trying to hawk their wares to the tourists, their cases filled with miniature multicolored Eiffel Towers, gadgets with flashing lights, and candy.

  “Wow, awesome!” said Lisa, who was now standing next to her sister. “That pyramid looks really cool in front of such an old building.”

  “Girls, welcome to the Louvre. The most popular museum in the world,” their father said, assuming the role of museum guide. “It houses more than thirty-five thousand works of art.”

  “We won’t be seeing them all today,” Hans joked.

  “You’re probably thinking that’s an awful lot of art, but that’s only the part of the collection on view to the public. The Louvre owns more than three hundred thousand works of art!” their father said enthusiastically. “Today we’ll tour the main attractions, paying special attention to Leonardo da Vinci’s work, of course, with the famous Mona Lisa as the highlight.

  The four of them strolled around the pyramid.

  “The pyramid contains almost seven hundred glass panels. If you three go and stand in front of it, I’ll take a picture,” Hans said. “Just like the good old days!” giving them a cheerful thumbs-up.

  After standing in line for half an hour, they finally made it into the museum. The escalator took them deep down into the building. Hans bought a ticket for himself and their father. Like everyone else under eighteen, Sophie and Lisa could enter for free.

  “Come on, let’s go through the Sully wing up to the ground floor, it’s quieter there,” Hans said.

  Together they headed up the stairs. Sophie and Lisa suddenly felt very small inside the enormous building. Two floors later they turned right and found themselves standing in a room displaying statues from ancient Greece. Compared to the enormous lines outside and at the information booth, it was much quieter here, with only three other people strolling around this particular gallery. It was pleasantly cool inside.

  Bent over slightly and with his hands behind his back, their father walked among the statues. He stopped briefly at a few of them to take a closer look.

  The next room was busier. A group of people had gathered around a six-foot-tall statue. Their father perked up. “That’s the Venus de Milo. It’s…”

  “A hot chick… with no arms,” Lisa interrupted her father, a deadpan expression on her face, causing them all to burst out laughing.

  Sophie didn’t stop there either. “Venus was probably stressed out and started biting her nails…” A group of people looked at them slightly annoyed.

  “One must not laugh in the Louvre,” Hans said with a wink. “Come on, let’s go.” He motioned to them to follow him. Hans
walked rapidly through a series of rooms towards the Denon wing. Without stopping, they passed through all the galleries until they reached the very last room.

  “Michelangelo Buonarroti.” Their father pointed to two white marble statutes mounted on large, square, dark gray stone plinths. “Michelangelo was a contemporary of Leonardo. They actually knew each other, but rumor has it they weren’t exactly friends.”

  “Let’s head on upstairs to our friend Leonardo’s masterpieces. I have another appointment elsewhere this afternoon,” Hans said.

  After climbing the stairs they turned into the first room, where a series of large 19th century paintings hung ostentatiously on the crimson walls. A girl in her early twenties, wearing a green knitted beret, was copying one of the paintings. Lisa and Sophie looked at each other inquiringly.

  “Art academy students are allowed to copy the artworks here as part of their studies. On the condition that their replicas are not the exact same size as the originals and that they clean up after themselves at the end of the day,” Hans explained, as the girls did their best to keep up with him.

  They walked through another smaller room and then turned right into the next one. Here too the ceiling towered above them. Daylight passed through the square glass panels in the ceiling illuminating the beige walls. A throng of people were admiring and busily photographing something on the wall in the middle of the room. As they moved closer they saw that it was the Mona Lisa, which was hanging behind a thick sheet of bulletproof glass.

  “La Joconde, also known as the Mona Lisa,” Hans said. “Or a very good replica of it in any event.”

  “Is it a fake?” Sophie asked astounded.

  “Why?” asked Lisa, looking scornful, “All these people didn’t pay good money to stand here and stare at a phony, did they? I mean, the whole world comes here to see this painting, right?”

  “Opinion is divided on the matter,” her father said. “The official version is that this is the one and only Mona Lisa.”

  The Mona Lisa (La Joconde) by Leonardo da Vinci, painted between 1513 and 1517, is the most famous work of art in the world.

  “You don’t really believe that, do you?” Hans said in a slightly reproachful tone. “Listen, girls,” he said, “this is the most famous painting in the world; it’s probably worth a billion dollars, if you can even put a price tag on it. It’s so valuable it can’t even be insured. So it’s all hocus pocus, all that bulletproof glass and stuff. I’m telling you… the real Mona Lisa is sitting safely in a vault somewhere, guarded day and night by two armed men, shielded from daylight and anything else that could damage it. This painting here, which we and ten million other people a year come to look at, is nothing but a copy.”

  “I don’t know, Hans, I’m not entirely convinced, but okay, it’s possible,” her father responded. “Anyway, try to work your way through the crowd so you can get a better look.”

  Sophie and Lisa moved slowly forward until they couldn’t go any further. Lisa pretended to sneeze really hard a few times without putting her hand before her nose, which made everyone get out of their way for fear of catching something from her. Sophie followed closely behind until they had reached the front and were standing behind a black ribbon. Guards on both sides of the painting monitored every single movement.

  “She looks like you,” Sophie joked.

  “What?”

  “Mona Lisa, she looks like you. You have the same smile, especially when you’re feeling satisfied with yourself or a situation. You never smile fully either, do you?”

  Sophie grabbed her phone. “Move over a bit so I can see you and the painting together, then I’ll take a picture.”

  Lisa looked carefully at the Mona Lisa and changed her facial expression a few times until she felt she had mastered the smile.

  “That’s it! Keep your mouth like that. Don’t move.”

  After taking the picture they wormed their way back towards Hans and their father.

  “Well, I’ll be… look at that…” Hans stared at the photo in amazement. “You really do look like the Mona Lisa.” He winked at Lisa. “However, Hansy now has an errand to run, so let’s head to the gallery to see Leonardo’s other works before we really have to go.”

  Sophie and Lisa walked out of the room and into the adjoining gallery.

  “To the left, to the Grande Galerie,” their father shouted.

  Tom ran as fast as he could up the gravel path. Pebbles spat out left and right. He stood with his back against the gate, gazing up the driveway. He wondered if his brother would follow him or not. Yesterday he had taunted him with the key, the same key that he was now clutching tightly in his right hand. Just as Tom was beginning to lose faith, he saw his brother appear on the other side of the street. Jack looked around anxiously as he made his way over to Tom.

  “I think we’ll have to climb over the fence. Lisa only gave me the key to the house,” Tom said, as casually as possible. He didn’t want Jack to see he was both surprised and relieved that his brother had shown up.

  “What? This is crazy, we shouldn’t be doing this. This is breaking in,” Jack said, sounding less certain than he wanted to.

  Tom looked at his brother. The fact that Jack was standing next to him now gave him reason enough to believe he would follow him. In one go he deftly climbed over the fence and stomped his feet a few times on the ground to make it sound like he was walking away. He heard Jack cursing on the other side, and a few seconds later he saw his brother’s head appear over the top. Jack pulled himself over and, still cursing, let himself drop down to the ground. When Tom realized he had actually managed to convince his brother to join him, he began to laugh. Lisa would be proud of him.

  “Come on, hurry up,” Jack grumbled, “before I change my mind.”

  Tom turned the key in the front door and walked across the hallway to turn off the alarm.

  “Fingers crossed,” Jack said. “I really hope Lisa isn’t pulling another prank on us. If she’s given us the wrong code as a joke, the alarm will go off and we’re totally busted.”

  Tom looked anxiously at his brother. The thought alone of that happening made him instantly break out in a sweat. He imagined Lisa and Sophie doubled over in laughter at the sight of their reaction to the alarm going off.

  “I can see you’re nervous, too, now you know how I feel. Hurry up! If you don’t punch in the code, the alarm’s going to go off anyway.”

  With trembling fingers, Tom typed in the numbers one by one. A short sharp peep sounded, followed by silence.

  Jack, who had been holding his breath, let out a deep sigh when he realized they were safe. Tom leaned against the wall and felt his heart beating madly in his chest. He shook his head as he thought about Lisa. His best friend was capable of driving people crazy without even lifting a finger.

  Once they’d calmed down they walked to the study. It felt strange, spooky, exciting, criminal and cool, all at the same time, to be secretly creeping through the girls’ house.

  Mrs. Prattle’s sketch was lying on the desk in the study. Jack picked it up and inspected the strange red cursive letters and drawings.

  “Leave it,” whispered Tom. “We’re here to find the missing pages. That thing can wait till later. Help me push the bookcase back.”

  Jack put the sketch down on the desk and together they pushed back the bookcase. In the dim light they saw a pair of red eyes staring at them. Jack jumped back in fright. Mrs. Prattle’s ermine bolted towards the opening. Acting on impulse, Tom moved his leg to block the creature’s path, but the ermine nimbly hurdled it and leaped up onto the desk in one swift movement.

  “What the…?” Jack cried out in alarm.

  “Come here you stupid creature,” Tom lunged towards the ermine, but it jumped aside and avoided his grasp. It landed on the sketch.

  “Noooo… stupid beast, get off!” shouted Tom, waving his arms at the animal to chase it off the sketch. With a powerful thrust of its hind legs, the ermine jumped off, sending
the sketch flying.

  CRASH!

  The sketch hit the floor with a bang that instantly broke the silence in the house.

  Tom and Jack stood nailed to the floor and stared at the sketch.

  “Look, there’s something sticking out,” Jack whispered.

  Tom carefully picked up the sketch and put it back on the desk. “How is it even possible, that’s totally bizarre! I swear this place is haunted! That creature gives me the creeps,” Tom said in a high-pitched voice as he looked around the room as if expecting to find a ghost.

  “Duh, the sketch is sticking out,” Jack said. “Let’s see if we can push it back in carefully so that no one will notice.”

  Tom sat down on the chair behind the desk and leaned over the sketch. Remarkably, the glass wasn’t broken and the frame was still intact. The only thing they could see was that the gap that had already been in the frame was now a bit wider. The sketch had shifted and was protruding slightly out of the frame. Without saying anything to Jack, Tom tugged on the piece of paper that was sticking out. It dislodged from the frame and fell onto the desk.

  “Are you nuts, what have you done!?” Jack looked at his brother, his fists clenched. “We came here to look for the missing pages, that’s all. Not to interfere with the sketch. Put it back in the frame. You’re making a mess of everything!”

  Acting like he hadn’t heard him, Tom ran his fingers over the sketch and picked at the edges of the paper. Jack couldn’t help but look, too, even though he was still angry.

  Tom held up the sketch with both hands and unfolded it.

  “Tadaa! Want to bet this is what we were looking for?” He placed it back down on the desk, unfolded it, and then turned it over a few times.

  They stared at the discovery in silence for a couple of minutes.

  “You’re right. These are the missing pages. It’s a larger sheet folded double. We have to let Sophie and Lisa know immediately! They’ll go crazy when they hear the news!” Jack said.