Code of Siman

by Dayna Rubin

  Natanya crossed the street and entered the building, fumbled a bit before finding her identification hanging within the folds of her raincoat, then showed it quickly to the security personnel at the podium stationed squarely in front of the group of elevators, which only stopped on their floors. She was quickly waved on.

  Natanya breathed easier once she found herself alone in the elevator. The upward momentum of the elevator threw her off balance, but she regained her footing, adopting the serious countenance that exemplified the employees of Signature Art Conservatory.

  The elevator doors slid open, smooth and soundless in their efficiency, the silence interrupted by the gentle ring of the bell alerting her she had reached her floor.

  “Geoffrey, where do you buy your uniforms, because, this one your wearing, is obviously way too big.” Natanya greeted the security guard positioned to the right of the elevators with a warm smile.

  Raising his finger to his lips, Geoffrey shushed her, and then maneuvered her to the cubicle he shared with the other security guard, and sat her down on the stool.

  “I heard there is going to be a huge celebration lunch today, so, here’s what’s going to happen, I’m going to show you how to guard the castle so we can switch off during lunch. I’m not missing out on this one; it’s supposed to be a pretty big deal. Catered and everything.” Geoffrey lowered his voice and whispered, “I even heard the acquisitions inspector is coming back today for the event.” Geoffrey nodded as though he was a co-conspirator.

  “Geoffrey, as much as I would like to help you out, you know we can’t do that!” Natanya protested, her laughter ringing out into the entry hall.

  “Okay, seriously, are you still dating that guy…what’s his name, I think it sounds like a gas station…Route 66…?”

  “Yes, I’m still dating Philippe Rousseau, and now I have to go in, but I’ll bring you some cake, I promise.” Natanya stood to go, but Geoffrey blocked her way.

  Natanya stepped around him, just as the receiver Geoffrey wore around his waist beeped.

  “Geoff, this is getting old, you need to wash your own uniforms, now I’m going to be late because you took mine and…” The voice coming from his receiver faded as Geoffrey adjusted the volume, resuming his conversation with Natanya.

  Leaning against the frame of the window within the cubicle, Geoffrey pulled a card from the inside pocket of his jacket and sailed it over to Natanya.

  Natanya bent to pick it up off the floor, laughing aloud she said, “Now you guys have cards! Really, wow, that’s amazing.”

  “Yup, and I’m here for ya, just call that number, the private number on the back of the card.” Geoffrey flipped his hands around, indicating she should do the same to the card.

  “Right. Bye Geoffrey…” Natanya waved to him over her shoulder as she entered the double doors of Signature, without looking back.

  Chapter Three

  Disclosed Canvas Affinities

  Philippe watched Natanya leave, observed she had chosen to wear the raincoat, as he had suggested. He had felt it was the best option for smuggling in the painting; a conclusion they had arrived at during their many rehearsals.

  Something nagged at him, as he watched her. It was the way she walked, letting the coat fly open with the wind, mindless to the other pedestrians. If they were to catch a glimpse…

  “Damn it! She didn’t do it!” Philippe exclaimed aloud as he sipped his coffee where he viewed her from the window of the dry cleaner. Philippe tossed the nearly full cup of coffee into the garbage can as he continued to watch Natanya walk down the street. I need to be sure…

  “Ah, you not wanna pick up your stuff?” Mrs. Hee of Hee’s Dry Cleaners called out to Philippe as he stormed out the glass door, the bell clanking against the glass with the velocity of his movements.

  Philippe took long full strides as he walked back to their apartment building. Not bothering to acknowledge the door attendant, he passed through the lobby, pushed his way past the elderly women chatting in front of the mail center; he slammed his hand onto the elevator button.

  A few members of the group turned to look at him in his apparent rage, and shifted their conversations to talk about him instead.

  The elevator finally arrived, Philippe stopped himself from yelling out expletives as people languished in front of the doors, blocking his entrance, then mumbled his apologies as he pushed past them until he was finally inside the elevator.

  Just as the doors were about to close, one of the elderly women, who had come down to retrieve her mail, positioned her bag in between the doors to enter.

  Sighing and cursing under his breath, Philippe opened the doors for her, and asked her, in a pleasant voice, “Good morning, which floor would you like to go to?”

  “Oh my, such a gentlemen. Well, if you could press the button for the tenth floor, I would appreciate it. I don’t think I could manage, seeing as I have my hands full. My husband and I just returned from our cruise, and my heavens, we have received a lot of mail.”

  “No problem…Mrs. Orbis, I believe, isn’t it?” Philippe’s rich vibrato wooed the weak and the strong alike, rivaling the voice of any disc jockey, with its smooth timber.

  “Yes, it is, and how do I know you young man?”

  “I met you during the tenant review regarding the roof top changes for the building, I believe.”

  Of course, that’s where I know you. You and that charming girl live together, is that right?” Mrs. Orbis didn’t wait for him to respond, “You both suit one another perfectly. I’ve always said that the couples who are similar in looks are similar in views. Take Mr. Orbis for example…”

  “Well, I uh, hate to cut you short, but it looks like this is your floor Mrs. Orbis. Can I help you with your mail, or do you need me to walk you to your door?” Philippe flashed a smile at Mrs. Orbis.

  “Oh, really? To my door? No, I don’t think I’ll need you to do that, but it was so nice of you to ask. You’re such a sweet young man,” Mrs. Orbis replied, leaning on her cane as she shuffled out of the elevator.

  Philippe continued to hold the doors open for her, as she suddenly appeared flustered and unsure of herself. “I believe your apartment is on your right.”

  “Yes, yes it is, gracious me, how could I be so forgetful. Have a nice day.”

  Philippe let the doors close once again, the tension returning to his face as he waited for the elevator to reach their floor.

  Without waiting for the doors to open fully, Philippe sprinted through them and down the hall until he reached their door. He unlocked the door and began darting about the apartment, looking for the painting. He deduced that it was probably still rolled up, as they had accomplished this part of the plan together last night.

  What would she do if she were ready to walk out the door with it, but then changed her mind. “Hmmm,” Philippe placed his hand to his chin as stopped in the center of the vestibule trying to decipher Natanya’s last movements prior to leaving the apartment.

  He walked to the closet positioned in the hall off the living room, and mimicked her selecting her coat. He checked the interior of the closet, not finding anything.

  Leaving the closet door open, he turned toward the front door as though he were Natanya. “No, I don’t want to take the painting so I would put it…I would put it…Jesus, Natanya, where the Hell did you put it?”

  Philippe suddenly stalled, not knowing where to look next, putting his hand to his forehand and the other on his hip, he randomly gazed across the marble entryway to the door. The coat rack had a light sweater hanging from it that she wore yesterday, and the umbrella stand was next to it.

  “I would put it in the umbrella stand because I would have wasted so much time deciding whether to bring it with me, I would be late for work and I couldn’t put it back.” Philippe reached in and grabbed the rolled up painting from the umbrella stand.

  “Yes, Natanya, I do know you so well…” Philippe reached for the handle of the front door, but paused a
s he contemplated how he would transport the painting. With his slim build in black slacks and raw silk, short-sleeve black shirt, he would not be able to conceal the painting. Unless he put on his raincoat in order to conceal it, but then…it was warm out and that would be suspicious. He realized, he really didn’t need to hide it, and in a split second, he worked through the entire plan as he continued toward the front door.

  Not wasting any time, Philippe placed a call to his contact and arranged to meet him. “It’s in play; bring the frame, yes at the Fountain of DuPont Circle. Not later,” Philippe said in response, “Now. It’s happening now!” He ended the call abruptly, his teeth clenched as he recalled the endless practice sessions he had reviewed with Natanya.

  “We’re not going to screw this up, Nat.” Philippe said aloud as he pushed the elevator button. He ran a hand through his dark hair as he waited for the elevator, thinking about how long he had waited for this opportunity, and now it was within his reach, but not quite within his grasp.

  Chapter Four

  Precedents and Influences

  “Hey, what do you know…? It’s Philippe, Geoff!” Craig exclaimed in a loud voice to capture the attention of the other security guard.

  “Oh, right…Philippe. We didn’t know you were coming,” Geoffrey said from behind the desk where he viewed the security screens for the Conservatory.

  Geoffrey indicated to Craig that he should take his place in front of the screens, and walked toward Philippe, squaring his shoulders as he approached.

  “Hey, now, I really need you guys to help me out here. I’ve got this surprise for our Natanya.” Philippe continued, “You guys know that Natanya would never boast about her own accomplishments, so I’m counting on you guys to help me show off her skill.”

  “What ya got with you Phil.” Craig said with sarcasm as he looked out over the top of the desk from his seated position to get a better view of the object in the shopping bag that Philippe had carried in.

  Philippe pulled out a 16 ¾ x 15 inch beveled black frame, with dental molding surrounding a picture of a woman in a long gold dress with a cloak holding a scale to weigh coins while standing next to a table.

  “I would like today to be the day that I not only present this exquisite piece of art created by my girlfriend, but I would also like this day to be the day of my proposal.”

  Craig looked in disbelief at the gorgeous and incredibly well executed painting before him, asking Philippe as he continued to stare at the painting, “Proposal of what?”

  “Of marriage, you idiot,” Geoffrey quickly countered. “Look, if that’s what you want to do, but the way I see it, you would be making this all about you instead of about Natanya, and I’m not sure you really want to do that today, because we have a pretty big event planned with the send off of the Vermeer painting. So, maybe, I don’t know, you could uh, ask her some other time.” Geoffrey finished lamely.

  “I hear what you’re saying, Geoff.” Philippe made sure he used Geoff’s name as much as possible to garner his support. “So here I am, Geoff, wanting to make a big deal about asking Natanya to be my wife, and I don’t have any ideas.” Philippe placed the picture on top of the table, dropped his head, and then put his hands in his pockets in acceptance of his lack of expertise in this area.

  “I’ve got the perfect solution for you, dude.” Geoffrey put an arm around Philippe’s shoulder. “Here’s what you do, you contact Chris from the Planetarium, he’s a security guy over there, and you tell him that I sent you. He’ll set everything up with her name in the stars at the planetarium. No woman can resist seeing her name magically appear with the words ‘Will You Marry Me’ all lit up without a single thought as to how you made that happen. It will be a complete surprise, and she’ll love it.” Geoffrey smiled in a matter of fact manner, nodding his head as though he didn’t need affirmation from Philippe.

  “Wow, that’s perfect. You’re absolutely right on target, because Natanya wouldn’t have any idea that I would pop the question in a planetarium.”

  “We’ll take care of it, no problem.”

  “Wonderful, so I can leave this picture with you to present it at just the right time; you guys can decide when.”

  “Yep, we’ll take care of it for you; just leave it up to us.” Geoffrey picked up the painting and held it to his chest, closing his arms around it in a protective fashion.

  “I’m going to head over to the employee lunch room, if that’s okay with you guys.”

  “Yeah, it’s cool. One of us, or uh, I mean Geoffrey will bring it in when they bring out the cake. There’s no signature, so is she going to sign it later?”

  “Perhaps.” Philippe turned toward the double entry doors and proceeded toward the receptionist, who only needed a little bit of convincing, to lead him into the lunchroom.

  Chapter Five

  Illusion of Abstract

  Natanya looked up to see Philippe stride nonchalantly into the lunchroom, where they had all entered at mid-morning and hadn’t left yet.

  “Philippe, what a surprise,” Natanya stammered as Philippe pulled her up out of her chair and kissed her tenderly, drawing a round of applause from everyone in the room.

  A glass of champagne was placed on the table in front of Philippe, next to Natanya’s glass.

  Philippe embarked on his mission. “I understand the stress of having an Old Master in your possession has been monumental.” Philippe tipped back on his heels as he held his arms out as if measuring a fish, then picked up his glass and with great aplomb raised it in a toast, “For significantly contributing to the restoration of the Vermeer, I want to congratulate all of you on a job well done.” Philippe clicked his glass with each person in the room.

  “Here, here…”

  Philippe took a sip of his champagne, and watched as Geoffrey brought in both pictures, keeping them covered as they sat on their easels. Philippe halted him with a finger held up, then excused himself as he walked out of the lunchroom.

  “How much has everyone had to drink here today Geoffrey?”

  “Um, I would say that everyone’s been drinking for a little over an hour now, but that’s not unusual when we have a send off.” Geoffrey replied.

  “Speaking of which, you do recall which painting was the original? I believe it was the one on the left.” Philippe stated.

  “Um, no, I think it was the one on the right…wasn’t it?” Geoffrey said, suddenly unsure.

  Walking back into the lunchroom, Philippe broadcasted, “Geoffrey and I seem to have a little problem here, and I, well… I wondered if any of you could help us out with it.”

  Geoffrey’s face registered concern as Philippe approached each of the pictures. Their wrapping had been removed and a simple cloth covered them as they sat upon their easels.

  With a flourish, Philippe reached for each of the cloths and lifted them simultaneously. A series of gasps and low murmurs were heard throughout the lunchroom. Then, as if on cue, the entire audience turned to stare at Natanya with equal looks of consternation, bemusement, and jealousy.

  One, two, three, and up… Philippe counted in his head the amount of time it would take before the leaders of the group moved forward to get a better look at the two pictures.

  “No one look at the back of the pictures please, as we do have the copy marked clearly, and we don’t want to ruin the element of surprise.” Philippe elevated the excitement in the room by turning the unveiling into a contest.

  “Oh, of course,” Geoffrey nodded his agreement, appearing to be relieved that Philippe had taken the appropriate precautions.

  Philippe indicated to Geoffrey that they should stand on either side of the paintings, so that no one could inadvertently peek at the back and obtain an unfair advantage.

  “It’s really very simple, if you know your facts about this picture, you’ll find a few elements in the picture that shouldn’t be there. And that is the only clue you will receive.” Philippe waved a few people forward who seemed reluctant to
view the pictures from the back of the room.

  “Now, Natanya will hand out 3 x 5 cards and a pencil for you to write down the items or areas you see in the picture that depict it as the copy. Natanya?” Philippe nodded toward Natanya to obtain the cards and then set them in front of each of the attendees.

  Natanya jumped up as if stung by a bee, and then raced out of the room to her desk, returning with a stack of index cards and pencils. She smiled robotically, her features set in a fixed smile, as she set each of the cards down at the long table, along with a few more cards to those who had been standing along the back of the lunchroom.

  Philippe held out his hand to Natanya, “Come join me. After all, you are the artist who is responsible for this masterpiece.”

  Natanya darted a look of unveiled hostility to Philippe before it melted into a smile as she joined Philippe, standing by his side as people walked up to the paintings and jotted their discoveries down onto their cards.

  Philippe felt Natanya’s nails dig into his hand. Giving her a wink, he squeezed her hand back before letting it go to put his arm around her shoulders instead.

  Natanya leaned into Philippe and whispered between gritted teeth that only he could hear, “I had decided not to go through with it.”

  “I know, and I decided that we would.” Philippe whispered back before he kissed her on the top of her head.

  “I think I know which of you will be able to discern the true Vermeer.” He received a few anxious glances directed his way as those who hadn’t decided were still holding blank cards. “Please be sure to mark your cards with your initials or name before you turn them in,” Philippe’s voice resonated through the room.

  A loud beep resounded, cutting through the room, then Craig’s voice boomed through the speaker at Geoffrey’s hip, “We have the packers here for the picture, so we need someone to bring it out of the lunchroom to the front office.”