by Dayna Rubin
Military personnel first escorted her, then Gage out to the hallway, where, as she watched, they efficiently moved the units out of the lab and into the hall where they proceeded together until they reached the airport where the Government Cargo plane waited for them.
Dauphine solemnly waved to the pilot as she boarded, then took her seat, in what appeared to be nothing more than a modified jump seat pulled down from the side of the plane and locked into position.
The entire entourage that had escorted her from the Museum accompanied her into the plane, pulled down a seat and belted themselves in.
Dauphine attempted to make small talk but it came off as stilted and awkward, so she listened to the hum of the engines as the plane readied itself for take off.
Once they were well on there way, a few of the crew began conversations with the military personnel, which lifted the mood considerably, prompting Dauphine to drift off to sleep, as they had stayed up all night processing the pictures in the Museum.
“Dauphine Delacroix?” Someone was shaking her shoulder in an effort to wake her. She was awakened abruptly, Dauphine seemed confused as she listened to her name called out, but then realized she must have arrived at the airport in Cleveland.
“Yes, I’m awake. We’re back in Cleveland?”
“Everyone has disembarked, we had the equipment loaded and a vehicle is ready to take you to either your place of residence or to your office. No one knew of your preference.” The female who spoke to her had the uniform of the airport personnel, and her nametag read Tessa Kane.
“I will need to go to the office and personally make sure the equipment is returned to the Space Environment and Experiments Branch.”
“Understood. I’ll instruct the driver to take you to 21000 Brookpark Road.” Tessa moved aside for Dauphine to proceed down the metal staircase hanging from the open door of the aircraft.
“Where is Gage? Where are the Atomic Oxygen Units?” Dauphine asked as she looked around, finding a town car ready to take her back to NASA.
“They were sent on ahead, and will arrive shortly before you. They left a few minutes ago.” Tessa said uneasily…we didn’t want to wake you.”
Dauphine pushed past her, hurrying down the stairs, practically leaped to the ground as she ran to the car. Arriving at the car before the surprised Tessa could inform the driver of her destination; Dauphine instructed the driver where to take her, and to drive as fast as possible, as this was NASA government business.
The town car peeled out of the parking lot of the airport, leaving Tessa standing midway down the metal staircase next to the cargo plane.
Once out on the freeway, she pressed the driver to continue at a faster pace. The car weaved through slower moving traffic, her anxiety of not knowing whether they would be able to arrive at the same time, sooner, or much later than the vehicle holding the Atomic Oxygen System was wearing on her.
Dauphine called ahead to the office, “This is Dauphine. I’m on my way in and need to know whether the Atomic Oxygen Units have arrived.”
“No? Okay I’ll be there soon. Thanks, oh, and call me at this number if they arrive before I do. Okay, thanks.”
Rolling down her window, Dauphine flashed her identification to the security guard at the gate, who admitted the town car and its occupants into the carefully guarded NASA compound.
Dauphine directed the driver where to go, and then jumped out as soon as he stopped, running to the entrance where she flashed her identification to the startled staff at the entrance, then quickly proceeded, waiving her bar coded badge to open a series of doors until she reached the area where the portable units were stored.
Just as she reached the designated area, she saw personnel bringing the units in. They waved as soon as they saw her. “Long night, huh?”
“Whew, you could say that again.” Dauphine was so relieved to see the units still covered the way she had left them, she nearly ran over and hugged them.
“You must be tired; we can reset the equipment from the flight for you and position it for storage.”
“Max,” Dauphine lengthened his name as she spoke it. “You know these are like my babies…I’ve got it, okay?”
“So dedicated to your job…impressive. That’s gotta score a few points with the brass.”
“We can only hope,” Dauphine said with a slight grimace. Anxious to have him leave her alone with the equipment, but not wanting to draw attention to her either, Dauphine waited for him to set the equipment into its usual place. Another employee assisted him, an employee she knew, but usually kept her distance from due to the mystery surrounding him.
Max and his counterpart left Dauphine, who made sure all of the entrances to the room were closed and locked. Taking great care, she uncovered each of the units and all of the individual screens, and then flipped on the power. Pushing the button, she watched as the metal frame slid out with the painting held firmly in place during the journey on the plane. She took the partially revealed Van Gogh with the remnants of the Vermeer covering it from its enclosure, where it had laid within the depths of the X-ray instrument, and placed it back into the Atomic Oxygenated Restorative unit.
Once back at the screen, she pulled out the keyboard and plugged in her instructions, then allowed it to calculate the level of paint she needed to remove to reveal the entire Van Gogh.
The process started, she sat back on her stool and let her mind drift to Warren, concerned for his well being, she wondered if she should try to contact him to let him know she had kept the painting and would have the necessary proof for him, if he needed it.
She didn’t know why she felt she had needed to withhold this information from The Secretary of State, the Museum Personnel, and of course, the Chief Justice, but something inside her knew that if she didn’t, it would disappear as if it never happened.
Her phone beeped, letting her know she had a message. She read the text; it was from Signature Art Conservatory. They had relayed the message, and I should expect a call soon.
A knock at the door sounded. Dauphine slid off her stool and went to the door where she opened it just wide enough to show her face.
“I saw you were back, Phin. Do you want to have lunch?”
“Um, well … I’m kinda busy, and I’m really tired.”
“Yeah I heard you took the portables and one of the cargo planes without a sign-off. The whole place was in a big uproar, but then Bob from the second floor came through to say it was approved after all.”
“Oh, right, Bob from the second floor…admin office.”
“You know you’re hungry, and you’ve got to eat. Come on. Are you re-calibrating the units? No one’s going to care if you leave while that’s going on. Come on…” Teri pleaded.
“Okay, just a sec.” The door closed, while Dauphine covered the screen showing the progress of the painting deep inside the unit, then looked around to make sure there wasn’t anything else she was forgetting, then left the room and locked the door behind her.
“It’s certainly going to be nice to get something to eat. I’m starving. Thanks for the invite.”
“Me too. Let me catch you up on what happened. You look terrible, by the way. Like you haven’t slept or something. Oh my gosh, you should have seen everyone around here. You would have thought we had been invaded.”
“I can imagine…”
Reaching the cafeteria, they both grabbed a tray and chatted while they made their selections, and then found a table while the other employees in the crowded cafeteria conversed with their own tablemates.
Dauphine’s phone chirped, letting her know she had a call. Picking it up, she saw the caller didn’t want to be identified.
“Hi, I just want to tell you that it’s not what you think it is.”
Dauphine hesitated, confused as to who she was speaking to, but then realized it was Natanya. “I know, that’s the most remarkable thing about it, it’s not.” Dauphine cupped the phone and excused herself from Teri for a moment whil
e walking outside to the atrium.
“Wait, what are you talking about? You know why we did what we did?” Natanya asked incredulously.
“Well sure, and it’s genius really because then how else would anyone find out about it?” Dauphine moved past a small group of smokers.
“Right, so how do you know about it? I thought I was the only one, well me and my Great Aunt…”
“So you received the canvas from your Great Aunt?”
“Well, Yes…” Natanya answered in amazement.
“And you knew what was underneath it, so you had to hide it to protect it. The answer was in the picture itself.
“Yes, and well, no…wait a minute. What are you talking about?” Natanya asked.
“I’m sorry, I interrupted you, why don’t you tell me what you wanted me to know.” Dauphine found a chair outside and sat down.
“I was just calling because you left a message saying there was an important discovery about the painting. I had called to see, um, what was going on, and I would really like you to know I’m not a bad person…I have to tell you that the construction of the painting had a purpose.”
“I know, and it’s okay. The historical significance of what you’re doing is far greater than the initial forgery itself,” Dauphine said.
“I have to go…I probably shouldn’t have risked calling.”
“Where are you and what are you going to do now? Look, I have someone who can help you, if you could trust me, I want to help.”
“I don’t know…”
“This person has so much knowledge about these things and believe me, at this point, he’s in the same boat you’re in, so he could be trusted to help.”
“Who is this person you’re talking about?”
“Warren Panetiere.”
“The Director of the National Gallery?”
“Yes, he lost his job over this and he…”
“I heard he had lost his job, and I’m really sorry about that. Look, I can meet him in an hour at the fountain in D.C., but what is it that you say you discovered in the painting?”
“We found the picture of the Van Gogh you helped to keep secret all these years under the Vermeer. You must know where the other pictures are if you knew where this one was. You need to let Warren know…if you could reveal anything at all, it would help considerably.” Dauphine pleaded.
The phone went silent, and unable to call Natanya back; she quickly located Warren’s number within her list of callers and went back inside to obtain the use of a secure phone line that prevented anyone from listening in.
Once inside, Dauphine apologized to Teri then proceeded further inside toward her office where she could request a secure line.
She dialed Warren’s number. “How are you doing?”
“As good as can be expected. Considering…”
“Can you be at the fountain downtown within the hour?”
“Why?” Warren sounded wary.
“Just go, you won’t be disappointed.”
Dauphine hung up, looked at the amount of time of the call, and hoped it hadn’t been traced.
Dauphine closed her eyes, tilted her head up to the sun, and breathed in the cigarette smoke from the few brave enough to continue the habit. A habit she kicked long ago, but still enjoyed from time to time.
“I found you. There’s an alarm going off. It’s definitely coming from the Atomic Oxygen Unit. You need to turn it off!” The mysterious employee who would suddenly appear and then just as suddenly leave, was jumping around in front of her, his long shaggy hair obscured his eyes, his reversed ball cap sat precariously on his head as he continued to excitedly jump around.
“Okay, I’m coming. No one’s tried to enter the room to turn it off, have they?” Dauphine asked.
“No, you don’t want that. So I came to you first.” He walked along beside her, skipping on occasion. It was subtle, but she could tell.
They reached the locked steel door of the room containing the Atomic Oxygen Units.
“Okay, I’ll push the second button from the left on the third screen while you check the painting,” he said.
Dauphine had unlocked the door, but stopped when she realized that what he had just said was exactly what she had been thinking. An involuntary chill coursed through her.
“Okay.” Dauphine didn’t doubt he would perform the task any differently than he had just stated.
Finding the painting unharmed, Dauphine saw the alarm was signaling an increase in temperature of the system to warning level.
Dauphine flipped a couple of switches to cool the system, removed the painting from its enclosure, then carefully brought it to the counter, which lined one side of the room under a bank of cabinets used for storage.
“It’s Skippy.”
Dauphine glanced up at him, after placing the painting on the counter, somewhat unsure of him, but sensed he wasn’t going to be a threat or any danger to her.
“You were wondering what my name is. Thanks for trusting me. I have to go now.” Skippy left, and gave a little hop just as he approached the door.
Collapsing to the right of the painting, Dauphine laid her head over her folded arms on top of the counter. It always freaked her out when he did that. He was assigned to ‘Special Projects’, but nobody knew what those were, or if they did, they didn’t speak of it.
Turning her head sideways on the counter, she could view the painting with all of its individual brush strokes. She imagined its creation, and its narrow escape from the fire. She wondered if the painting was saved by someone who loved art, or maybe by a group from the French Resistance, or maybe even by a German officer set on keeping it for himself.
How had Natanya come by it, had she and her family kept it hidden all this time, only to sneak it back into the world anonymously? But why?
Dauphine couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer, and finally, giving in to the temptation of sleep, she closed them.
Chapter Seventeen
Tragedy, Ecstasy and Discovery
Warren said to Natanya, “Before I was asked to leave, I found that an Old Master had been forged over another work thought to have been purposefully destroyed during the war by the Nazis. It was incredible!” Warren’s hands were extended to the sky as he finished his statement.
“What was the Old Master, I mean who was the artist and what was the title?” Natanya asked hesitantly.
“Do you really have to ask? It was Vermeer’s Woman Holding a Balance. It was painted, or should I say, you painted over Van Gogh’s Painter on the Road to Tarascon. A painting thought to have been destroyed during one of the ‘degenerate’ bonfires in WWII.”
“I know, that’s what I heard…”
“Dauphine must have told you that we found it.” Warren stated.
“Yes, she told me… What do you think the Board of the National Gallery is trying to accomplish by hiding these findings?” Natanya asked Warren.
“I don’t know, but after they realize they don’t have the real Vermeer, the fake Vermeer, or the Van Gogh, there’s going to be a huge problem.” Warren walked steadily along between the buildings until he found a restaurant they could slip into through the back alley.
“Natanya, how did you end up with the Van Gogh?” Warren asked.
“I didn’t know I had it…well, that’s not entirely true, I have a few dozen canvases, but they’re all either partially painted on, or they are blank, just like that one, so your discovery is amazing to me as well.”
“I don’t understand…how would you have received any of the canvases of Vincent Van Gogh?” Warren asked as he led them into the large walk-in pantry behind the kitchen.
“There were over a thousand canvases by Van Gogh that were thrown out even before the war, I believe it was estimated that there were as many as fifteen hundred that were thrown out. Some had partial or complete paintings, some didn’t. During the second World War, they were turned in for a loaf of bread or some soup. They were considered nearly worthless
except by a few astute art connoisseurs like my Aunt, and many of the Resistance.”
“Do you realize the importance of this finding? You could have even more of Van Gogh’s paintings within those canvases. This is monumental! We need to find a way to get back to your…place, and pick up the rest of the canvases.” Warren declared.
“We can’t do that. Our apartment is filled with police,” interjected Philippe.
“I see…but there must be a way-”
“What did you end up doing…I mean, did you find any others and clean them?” Natanya interrupted.
“Yes, we had been able to clean many of the Old Masters, revealing their original illustrious colors with…”
“How many?” Natanya asked, becoming agitated as she began pacing in the small space.
“Does it matter? Our discovery is huge! If you hadn’t used that canvas to…”
“That’s not it, there were more.” Natanya said as she continued to pace.
“What do you mean? What does she mean?” Warren addressed Philippe and Pascal who were leaning against the steel shelves within the pantry.
“Were…you said were.” Warren said excitedly.
“Yes, they saved, I mean the Resistance saved Impressionist paintings along with other ‘degenerate’ works by painting copies of Old Masters on top of them. What I did wasn’t anything new.”
“Okay, so what you’re saying is that by cleaning these Masterpieces…ahh, I don’t know what you’re implying.” Warren raised his hands then dropped them to his side.
Natanya stopped pacing and stood before Warren. “What we and others like me did was to paint encrypted passages on the forgery to trace the placement of another picture, the original Old Master.”
Warren finally grasped what she was saying, “And they saved the Impressionist or ‘degenerate’ work as well as an Old Master in the process.”
“Yes, they saved other pieces as well. Sighing, she watched a mix of anguish and disappointment flit across Warren’s face.