The rolling door, which normally remained closed and secure unless a shipment was underway, was up. The vault was bright from the natural and unnatural light. There was a big man with short black hair slick to his scalp, a scruffy five o’clock shadow in work pants so wrinkled it looked as if they been put on after severe days balled up in the corner of the floor. He stood beside a dolly at the door looking like a dolt. The man in the mustard and white unkempt delivery uniform was scratching behind his ear and staring into the back of his truck.
On the floor was the cracked crate. The straw packing material that was within it as well as dust was everywhere. It was the amount of dust that had her befuddled.
Chris Harley another technician stood off to the side of the disaster on the floor. She had teamed him with Simeon for the day’s shipment. There were always two people to certify every shipment in and out.
“I’m assuming that is my Grooved Sphere.” She moved slowly toward the mess her stomach in knots and her body shaking. The thought of how much paperwork would be involved and all the issues surrounding a damaged artifact that was in her chain of custody didn’t weigh on her mind as much as the pain of something so precious being ruined.
Standing at the gaping crate, she saw it was empty. “Minton already has it back in the restoration lab?”
“Ye-s.” Chris verified, his response hesitant.
“Why is there so much dust…or sand?” Keeping out of the debris they would need to scrape up, she squatted down to inspect it closer.
“I’m not sure what it is. But Minton got up as much as he could when he took the piece away.” Simeon stooped close beside her.
Shaking her head she rose. “There was no need to get the padding now, it will skew the authentication result.” She felt stupid even saying what her restoration specialist should and should not do. Minton was one of the best in the country. “Since that second package is square and flat, that would be my Jacob Hendrik Pierneef Baobab Tree painting. So, this was definitely the Grooved Sphere, severely dented I’m sure.” She sighed.
“Ms. Watson, I don’t think you’re understanding.” Simeon was frowning when she glanced at him.
She waited for him to clarify.
“The dust came from the piece, it was the piece.”
Now, she was confused. “No. It’s not possible, Simeon. The ancient priceless artifact I was waiting on was not clay, ceramic or porcelain, or even wood. So, it breaking apart like this would not happen.” She glanced at Chris, who had been nodding along with Simeon’s words. “The Grooved Sphere, one of only a few recovered so far in South Africa was made of an unknown metal. Not…” she waved her hand at the particles spread out onto the cement floor.
“But, that’s what came out of the crate,” Chris confirmed.
“Can I go now?” The gruff delivery guy began. “I got a shitload of delivers to still make and I don’t want my boss to be in my as—”
“Stay right there.” Rushing to one lopsided part of the crate she snatched off the shipping paper that was inside a plastic sleeve glued to the side.
“Here’s our order request form.” Simeon was beside her before she could ask.
Taking the clipboard, she reviewed everything, from the serial number to the items series number to the description, title of artifact as well as the senders name and address. A stone sank in her stomach when it all matched up.
Her only other hope was that this dufus had done something wrong. She went to the courier and eyed him suspiciously. “Where’s John our regular delivery guy?”
Paul was etched into a mock tag on his work shirt. He shrugged. “Transferred. My boss asked me to take this route so I did.”
“Well, I hope he has plans for a different route for you. Apparently you can’t handle this one.” Headed back toward Simeon she commanded, “Get Paul’s full info, including a copy of his driver’s license, direct supervisor and a good contact number and address.”
“Hey! It’s just old stuff.” Paul yelled out. “Insurance covers this crap with lots of money anyway.”
Halting, she swung back around and aimed a finger at the incompetent man. “Precious. Historical. Artifacts. I’m sure you don’t understand the word priceless. Don’t leave town the authorities will need to talk to you.”
Her heels clicked and snapped to the swishing sound of her slacks caused by her fierce strut toward Minton’s lab. She’d have to notify Kravers so that he could contact not only the insurance company but with it being international artwork, the federal customs department would have to be alerted as well. So much paperwork and red tape was going to be before her now. Sonya sighed.
Most of all she’d need to call her colleague in Johannesburg and apologize for the destruction of their property while it was technically in her care. Even if she had not signed off and received it yet, still it was on her countries soil and at her museum. That pained her the most. Artwork was handed off from one museum to another through mutual respect.
At the end of the back hall she approached the fully enclosed glass room. She could clearly see Minton in the center of the room before a table that held remnants of something, not a metal sphere. She waited at the door for him to let her in. Normally, he didn’t begin working on a piece received for a day or two, because no piece came in and immediately hit the gallery floors. This situation would have pushed the item to priority on Minton’s list.
The authentication rooms in the museum were secured. Few people had entry codes—the restorations specialist of that department, head of security and Mr. Kravers.
Edgar Minton finally looked up from the mess before him with a scowl. Walking toward the door, he opened it and allowed her into the climate-controlled room.
“It doesn’t make sense.” Minton mumbled.
“I know. That damn careless delivery man ruined such an amazing piece.” Sonya placed a hand on the older man’s shoulder. This artwork and exhibit that would be opening in a few days meant a lot to them both. “Where’d you put it?” She glanced around, disregarding one item on the tables after another looking for something odd and round.
“No. No.” He shook his head. “That would be true... However—” Cutting off his own words he led her to the table. He waved his hands around the broken pieces. “This isn’t the Grooved Sphere.”
“That’s what I thought when I saw the residue on the floor.” Glancing at the same broken down pile of dust on the table, she shook her head. “Even the shipment receipt matched perfectly. However, it isn’t the medium I was expecting for the piece. I thought it was made from—”
“Unknown metal from the Precambrian period, which was around 2.8 billion years ago. That’s what it is supposed to be. This...” he picked up particles and held the opaque dust in the palm of his gloved hand. “Is not metal.”
“What kind of medium is this? Plaster?” Flabbergasted, she shook her head. “How could such a mistake have been made?”
“Not a mistake. You can see here.” He turned over a chunk. “This is acrylic paint. Done well I must say. The craftsmanship to make it look just like aged metal has me amazed. They even got the odd white spots done right. Whoever did this has studied as many pictures on these mysterious South African phenomenon’s as I have.”
“Look like metal?” She looked from the piece to Minton’s face.
“Yes. We need to notify the authorities now and Kravers.” He set the delicate piece down gently.
“Great. An investigation while I’m trying to open a new exhibit. Just what I need.” Thanking Minton she exited the room.
When she returned back to her office, she sat at her desk and immediately pulled out her bottom drawer and removed a red folder. She set it down on her desk and just stared at it. The information contained inside of it was something that no curator ever wanted to have to use. Before opening it, she removed her cell phone from her pocket and sent a text.
Can’t do lunch today. Department emergency. Will explain later.
Moments lat
er her phone chimed with Parker’s response. ??? Keep me posted.
I will. She sent back then slipped her phone into her jacket.
Normal protocol dictated that she contact Kravers first when there was an incident and he would follow the directives of notifying the authorities. However, something of this magnitude trumped those procedures and the call went to the proper authorities first. She would leave the insurance portion for her boss.
Opening the folder, she trailed a finger down the list of places and numbers until she got to the right source. She reached for her desk phone and realized her hands were shaking. Balling her hand into a fist for a moment she took stock of herself, her whole body was quaking and there was a sick feeling in her stomach like she’d empty the contents of her stomach at any moment.
She sucked in a large amount of air through her nose and held it in her chest for over thirty second count. Disregarding the burning feeling of her lungs she still held it and forced herself to calm down. It wouldn’t do to speak and fall apart. This situation was a big deal but she could handle it.
Picking up her desk phone she dialed.
“Good morning and thank you for calling the Federal Bureau of Investigations, how may I direct your call?” The woman answered the phone on the second ring.
“Please connect me to the ACT Department.”
“One moment, please.” Classical music came through the line.
Sonya didn’t have to wait more than a few bars before a male voice came on the line. “Art Crime Team Division, Agent Caleb Williams.”
“Agent Williams,” She swallowed. “My name is Sonya Watson and I’m the curator in the African American Arts department at Queen Metropolitan Museum in Charlotte, North Carolina.”
“How may I assist you, Ms. Watson?”
“An artifact has been damaged.” Those words felt like acid on her tongue.
“You know you can just notify your insurance company and they would have contacted us with the investigation results for our records. Have a nic—”
“It is an international artifact and it was a forgery,” she rushed on before the agent could hang up on her.
“Give that to me one more time.”
Now she had his attention. Sitting back in her chair, Sonya filled him.
“I have a few calls of my own to make, Ms. Watson. However, I’m on my way. Once everything is set from this end, I’ll notify you with our ETA and I’ll need everyone in contact with the item at the museum when we arrive. So, if someone was planning a vacation, they need to cancel it. Do I make myself clear?” His deep southern voice was filled with a no nonsense rhythm.
“Yes, sir.” The last thing she wanted was to be in the hot seat with the FBI, she’d make sure everyone including the idiot delivery driver had arrived. A part of her mind brought up the fact that if it hadn’t been for the drivers bumbling actions it may have been days before they discovered it.
“One last thing. Here’s my email address,” he rattled it off to her. “Send me your contact in South Africa’s information. However don’t contact them about this. Well take care of that through the investigation. If I discover you have made contact, you’ll be held on charges of compromising and investigation.”
Gracious, did the FBI always have to instill such fear into people they deal with? She swallowed then responded affirmatively.
The call ended.
Staring in space, seeing nothing in particular, she thought about the weight of this burden on her shoulders. All she had wanted for years was to have an African exhibit displayed in her department, she’d gotten her wish, but it had been twisted. It grieved her heart, because she could see the exhibit possibility slipping away again. There was no telling what all would come about with this investigation or how delayed the opening would be. Hell, it was a significant possibility once Kravers heard about this that he’d close down the exhibit indefinitely.
The Smithsonian seemed like a good option at the moment.
Sighing, she rose and went to see Mr. Kravers.
~ML~
“Are you serious? How could you let something like this happen?” Mr. Kravers stood behind his desk with his hands planted in the center staring at her with hard, piercing eyes. “Why was I not notified first?”
Sonya knew he’d be upset. Something like this, if it got out, could ruin the museum. However his level of anger directed at her was shocking. She uncrossed her legs, just encase she needed to run. Not that her boss was the striking type, but the vein sticking out in the center of his forehead said differently. “Sir, that’s why I’m here.”
“Issuing an invitation late to the party. Damn.” He shoved away from the desk.
“Protocol dictate—”
“Screw protocol. Do you think yours is the first in the twenty-two years I’ve run this museum, to have an object damaged.”
She followed the tracks he was making along the side of his desk, back and forth. “No, I don’t. However, this was forged and it was international.”
He stopped and waved his hands wide. “Everything is international.” Kravers aimed a thick finger at her. “We handle and research in house first. That way, once I have to call it in, we have answers for them. It’s less time they have to sniff around one section after another.”
“That wasn’t my intention.” She didn’t want to apologize, but Kravers had a way of saying things that made her feel the things she’d done were wrong. This was her boss, however. It had taken her so long to get the African exhibit approved she didn’t want have other things she went after blocked. Curling her hands, she dug her nails deep into her palm. “I’-m sorry. I hope I’m never in this situation again, but if I am I’ll bring it to you first.”
Saying those words put a bad taste in her mouth. She felt that places had guidance and rules for a reason. With her department being in the hot seat, this was not the time to point out that fact.
Kraver’s released a heavy sigh as he returned to his seat. “When did they say they’d be here?”
“When I was on my way here, someone called and stated the agents would arrive at seven tomorrow morning. Anyone having dealings with the artifact in my department no matter where they work in the museum need—”
“Present I know. You’re dismissed.” He waved his hand toward the door. “I need to contact the museum board.” Kravers was already reaching for his phone.
His dismissal left nothing for her to say or do but stand and exit the office. Outside of his door in the empty corridor without Kravers heated gaze on her a chill ran through her body and she could feel moisture on the back of her neck. Sweat. She’d felt like a bad kid in there who had been called to the principal’s office for cheating. As if she’d done something wrong.
This was her department. Didn’t Kravers think she was just as upset that something like this had happened? And on my watch.
Headed back to her office she weaved her way through the crowds of children at the museum on an educational trip. When her cell phone vibrated, she removed it from her pocket then glanced at the name of the caller. She smiled and stepped into a side hall with less traffic.
“Hi, Parker. Sorry about lunch.”
“I understand things come up. Are you alright?”
Damn, his voice sounded so good. How could just speaking to him over the phone make it seem as if a warm blanket had been draped around her? But that’s what effect Parker had on her.
“Yeah, I’m okay. Just a lot going on right now. I don’t even have this moment that I’m taking.” Just the thought of everything happening made her temples throb to the point she closed her eyes.
“You want me to come to you? Maybe I can lend a hand.” That deep soothing balm of his caressed her through the line.
She chuckled. “I wish you could. But, I will probably be busy for the next few days.”
“What’s going on?” Concern was now evident.
“I can’t get into it now. I’ll try and call you tonight and fill you in. Trust me, y
ou’ll know about it soon enough.” The whole museum would. She’d never been in this situation before, but she’d seen others go through something similar and watched as colleagues looked upon them with understanding and others with shame. Sonya was unsure which she would get more of.
“Well, when you can talk I’m here.”
“Thanks.” She moved back into the main hallway. “I need to go.”
As they ended the call she tried to get her mind together to talk to her staff. The next few days were not something she was looking forward to at all. In the end she just hoped this didn’t cost her a job.
~ML~
“Hey, Randy!” Parker knocked against the doorjamb to get his friends attention.
Closing the lid to a wolf spider tank, Randy glanced over at him. “What’s up, man?”
“I’m heading out a little early tonight, there’s something I need to see about. You good here?” Parker knew that asking an entomologist if they were alright in lab filled with arachnids was like asking a dolphin if they were okay in the water.
“Sure am. I was already planning to work late tonight because I have an appointment in the morning if you don’t mind me being a little late, boss?”
“I can take care of the early shift.” He gave him a two finger wave then walked out. He had a single destination in mind as he headed out of the lab, get across the museum and check on Sonya. They hadn’t eaten lunch together today, but that wasn’t what disturbed him. Things sometime come up. However, it was her voice.
Sonya wasn’t doing well. He didn’t know in what way, but the strain in her voice and the heavy sighs between sentences was not her. Since he’d been swamped today and hadn’t been able to get outside of the lab or his office, this was the first opportunity he could seek her out.
“Hi, Doctor Hayden.”
He stepped out of the secured door and stopped in his tracks. The museum clerk stood before him, leaning against the wall.
Evidence of Desire: Hero Series 3 Page 13