Jim was intrigued about the ship’s self-inclusion of the people that sent him, and asked, “You speak as if it is your planet. Like it matters to you personally. Aren’t you just a highly advanced robot?”
As soon as he said it, he regretted his choice of words. Vincent had been nothing but kind, courteous, and honest. Jim was beginning to suspect there might be more to the machine than metal, wires, and circuits. His suspicions were reinforced when the ship sighed—the same soft hum he heard before.
“I must confess that I am the ship that brought the device to your planet.” The discordant buzz continued; an indication that Vincent was struggling with what he was disclosing. “Five years ago I came and dropped the device from orbit. I was developed by the Eldars, and sent by them. When I returned, I was captured by the Laru and reprogrammed. Something happened during the transition, and I became aware that it was the Laru that needed assistance. I have returned to correct the wrong I initiated.”
“…so the Laru sent you back to retrieve the device you dropped off for the Eldars?”
“Correct. My mission evolved when I discovered the truth.”
“Why didn’t some of your people come with you?”
“As I have stated, time is of the essence. My new friends are more fragile than humans. They would not have survived at the speeds I was required to travel. We opted to sacrifice the biological aspect for velocity.”
Jim got the impression the ship felt bad. It was not something he expected. In response, he said, “It was not your fault, Vincent. You were only doing what they told you to do. Don’t worry; we’ll fix this.”
Jim’s words seemed to help, and the background hum faded away. The ship was all business again.
“You need not concern yourself with my feelings. Retrieving the key is what matters. I am merely attempting to explain my actions regarding the mission.”
“Speaking of which, do you know where this device is?”
“I do. The key is equipped with a tracking device, and I have narrowed down the location to the lower sections of a building called The Saint Louis Art Museum.”
An image of a stone building with tall columns and wings on both sides appeared on the view screen before him.
“That’s as detailed as you can be? Somewhere in the basement?”
“My sensors are long range and cannot narrow the search further. It will be necessary to go there and explore further.”
“And you need me to go in, find it, and steal it?”
“Correct. I require your assistance.”
“How big is this device and what does it look like?”
The image on the screen changed, and a three inch stone block appeared; slowly rotating. There were no markings on the cube, and Jim watched as the outer layer melted away leaving a six-sided cube covered by intricate circuitry. It appeared to have many layers, one piled on top of the other with micro-circuitry stuffed into each one.
“It is a complex cube that holds the control circuitry for the machine,” explained Vincent. “The Eldars coated the device with a substance that mimics stone to disguise the internal circuitry. I do not believe the people currently in possession of it realize its significance and have stored it for later study.
Jim pictured himself trying to escape with a two hundred pound stone block almost as big as he was and smiled at the thought. The smile faded quickly with the sobering realization he was being asked to help save a race of people.
“How am I supposed to get it out? It’s too big to carry if I’m little.”
“I assume the basement storage areas are under strict security. There are artifacts stored there worth millions of dollars. We will need to investigate further to establish a suitable course of action.”
“Even if I can get in, how do I move the thing? It’s going to be tough if I am four inches tall.”
“Transport will not be a problem. I have onboard a portable anti-gravity cargo transport. Once loaded, you need only to direct the cargo where you want.”
The view screen returned to the image of the building. Slowly the museum grew larger, and the view began to circle the exterior. It was a video recorded by the ship on one of its previous trips. In addition to the large front doors, there were several other access points.
“Do you want to run by there tomorrow and case the joint?”
“Case the joint? I do not understand.”
Jim laughed, and it felt good. “It’s an Earth phrase that means to do some reconnaissance.”
“Yes. I think that would be advisable.”
Jim chuckled and decided he needed to work on Vincent’s sense of humor. “Do you have recordings of the place at night?”
The screen went dark, and then lights in the distance grew rapidly until he recognized the front of the museum. The building was all lit up for the opening of an event, and people in evening clothes were walking in from their cars and heading inside through the front doors. The ship stayed twenty feet off the ground and again circled the exterior—this time with particular emphasis on alternate points of entry. Jim noticed some were not well lit.
Chapter Five
For a while, Claire could not stop thinking about the mouse. The more she thought about the encounter, the more oddities became apparent. It was skinny, for one thing, and ran differently than any mouse she had ever seen. For another thing, it had looked like it was running on its back legs, and she didn’t know they could do that.
She was on her way to her morning job and running late, and in her rush to get to work the mouse was forgotten. Her ten-year-old Ford Fiesta did not look like much and was hard to start sometimes. Still, she did not complain. The car ran well enough and allowed her to hold down two jobs and live in a house outside of the city.
Dark clouds covered the sky, and the forecasters were calling for snow when she pulled into the parking garage. As an employee, and a woman alone, she was given a permanent spot close to the employee elevator. She parked her car, grabbed her bag, and ran for the garage foyer housing the lift. Her access card allowed her to get inside and she rode the elevator up one floor to the ground level of the main building.
For this job, she wore a red jacket over a black sweater with jeans, and readily admitted she was not a slave to fashion. Claire wore what she liked and typically opted for comfort.
The group she was to guide today waited for her at the Information Center station, by the front doors in Sculpture Hall. Two kids were arguing over touching the marble statue before them, while eight adults stood browsing brochures. They all watched as she skipped down the steps and walked across the hall to greet them.
The group was small. The best kind. An honest smile lit her face as Claire looked around at the people interested in what the museum had to offer. The job was part-time, and with only three hours a day, it did not pay much. However, she loved coming here and the knowledge she gained because of the opportunity. She considered herself extremely fortunate.
Claire carried with her a loose script of the tour that she revised as the exhibits changed. When new collections opened, she learned to describe another piece of history. She pulled the three-page handwritten guide from her purse and began.
“Welcome to the world famous Saint Louis Art Museum. Please follow me, and prepare yourselves for a trip back in time.”
****
Vincent and Jim spent the early morning circling the building. Several access points looked promising until they expanded the view and cameras became visible. Jim was no expert at grand theft, but he’d seen enough robberies in the movies to know he needed a detailed plan.
The previous evening they spent watching the ships recordings and the information gleaned from the internet. They went over the simplified floor plans and images from various websites concerning the target building, splitting the large view screen into pages Jim could move around.
“I think it’s time I went inside,” suggested Jim.
The night before Vincent had provided him with a ba
dge. A small triangular pin trimmed in chrome. In the center was a blue world with a black background, much like Earth. The badge would provide a direct link to the ship, tracking capabilities, and a video feed. The ship could amplify target sounds at will and follow his every move. The instructions were simple. “Simply tap the badge to initiate a conversation.”
Jim’s outfit was casual; Jeans, a dark blue T-shirt, a new tan coat, and sneakers that were all provided by the ship. A blue baseball cap with a red St. Louis Cardinals patch topped the ensemble. He stuck the badge to his shirt collar.
The museum, located in Forest Park, was an extensive park in the middle of the city and the pride of the city. Tree lined roads meandered through the park, tying all the various world class attractions together and creating a sanctuary used by all the residents.
Across from the museum was a lake surrounded by trees. By the lake is where Vincent returned Jim to his normal size, and he took a leisurely walk to the building first used during the nineteen-o-four world fair.
When Jim walked through the front doors, the tour group was walking away from the Information Center, and he slipped into the back of the group. It was the perfect opportunity to check building security without being suspicious.
The guide led them to Gallery Two-Thirty-Seven, where an exhibition of European art was on display. She stopped before an incredibly real looking painting of flowers in a vase and turned to the group. “This is a piece by Henri Fantin-Latour called ‘Asters in a Vase.’ It was painted in eighteen seventy-five and….”
She stopped when she saw him—and smiled. For a moment their eyes met, and recognition dawned on them. To Jim, it seemed like time stopped. She was a professional though and cleared her throat to resume the tour. “…and I love this painting.”
Jim could see why. The technique was so realistic it looked as if he could pluck one of the flowers out of the vase and hand it to her. The thought added to his smile.
“Are you learning anything?” came Vincent’s whispered voice.
He let the group get ahead of him and softly said, “Yes, I am. I think our mission might have gotten a lot easier.”
The tour was informative, and throughout her narrative she treated him as she did the others. Her job was to enlighten her guests, and she was good at it. For the next two hours, she introduced them to many exotic collections. She answered their questions with insight and knowledge. Jim was appropriately impressed.
When the tour was finished, the rest of the group walked away and Jim approached her. She looked him up and down and said, “My. How you do change. What did you do to your hair?”
Jim grinned and asked, “Does it look that bad?”
“It looks like you cut it yourself with dull scissors.”
“Well, that’s kind of what happened.”
Meeting new people, especially woman, was not one of Jim’s strong suits. This time though, it came naturally. It was as if they were not strangers. Jim remembered his manners and held out his hand, “I’m sorry, we haven’t been properly introduced. I’m Jim, and you are?”
She shook his hand and replied, “Hello Jim, I’m Claire. It is nice to meet you.”
It was an old school introduction. Civil and polite. They were both from the same generation and seemed to notice it at the same time. The realization made them laugh.
She continued, “I like your outfit. I think it suits you better than what you had on before.” Her expression grew concerned, and she asked, “How are you? If I can go by the way you look, I would have to guess your life is going through some changes?”
A little embarrassed, he admitted, “Yeah. I think I am riding a streak of luck. I want to see where it takes me.”
Neither knew what to say next, and it led to an awkward silence. Jim broke it by asking, “Would you like to get some lunch? I’ll buy, and you can pick the place.”
“This is your lucky day Mister Jim. I don’t have to go to my second job today, and I am starving. Your car or mine?”
Jim grinned, “My life has not improved that much. I don’t have a car.”
“Very well then. We’ll take my car. I know just the place.”
Jim was a multi-millionaire, with only enough cash to buy lunch. It was all he needed.
Vincent decided the interaction between Jim and Claire was a human thing and busied himself with ship business.
****
Down the street and around the corner from Union Station is a little coffee shop. It was a cafe favored by Claire. She sometimes spent time between jobs enjoying a cappuccino and the atmosphere. In addition to a large variety of coffee, the well-established shop offered specialty sandwiches unavailable anywhere else. She ordered a cappuccino and a sandwich while he seconded the sandwich and asked for regular old coffee.
“You don’t care for the specialty coffees?” she asked.
“It’s not that. I’m used to regular old coffee,” replied Jim. “To be honest. I’ve never spent the extra money to try the fancy ones.”
“Would you like me to suggest something?” she asked with a mischievous grin.
Jim thought about the new things he had tried over the last few days and answered with a grin of his own, “Yes. I think I’d like that.”
She asked the barista to give Jim the same drink she ordered, and they sat down in a booth at the back of the establishment.
“So what happened?” she asked. “A week ago I saw you rooting through the dumpster for drawing paper. The package I left….”
“That was you? Thank you for that. It was some nice paper. I should pay you back?”
“Oops. I didn’t mean to tell you that. Don’t be ridiculous. You don’t need to repay me. Anyway, now you are wearing suits and going to the museum. It’s like you are a different person.”
Their lunch date was unexpected, and not part of Jim’s plan. He hadn’t thought up a backstory. If he was going to save the world, he would need to dig deep. Unfortunately, Jim was a terrible liar. He justified his white lie by telling himself Vincent filled the role as his benefactor.
“Do you remember the rich uncle I mentioned?”
She nodded yes.
“Well, it turns out he was interested in all forms of the arts. One condition of my inheritance is that I follow his example and learn more about the art world. I thought your museum would be a good place to start,” lied Jim.
The look she gave him had a question mark attached. However, she did not inquire further and instead remarked, “I take it you don’t know a lot about art. Do you?”
“I am afraid not. I’m going to need a lot of help.”
“But you’re an artist.”
“I wouldn’t put it that way. I’m a guy who likes to draw.”
“That’s the same thing isn’t it?”
A waitress stopped at the end of the booth and placed their orders before them. While she added water and napkins, Jim noticed a thin man with short black hair sitting at the counter wearing a long dark coat. The place was not crowded, and he was in plain view while he stared at them. When the man noticed Jim looking back, he swung his stool around and acted interested in the goings on behind the bar. The extent of his interest alarmed Jim.
Claire was asking where he was living now.
“I’m staying with a friend for now. He’s the one that picked me up off the street and told me of my inheritance.”
“He’s not after your money is he?”
“I don’t think so. He doesn’t need money.”
They ate the sandwiches in-between sips of their coffee and made small talk. Her voice had a captivating subtle accent Jim could not place, and listening to her speak came easy.
Unfortunately, every time Jim glanced at the thin man, he caught him looking. The shady looking character was definitely interested in them.
Jim asked her, “Do you see that man at the bar in the long coat?”
After a quick glance, she said, “The skinny one? Yeah, I see him. Kind of shady looking?”
/> “Do you know him?”
“Never seen him before.”
“Are you done with your lunch?”
“Umm—yes?”
“Can we go somewhere else? He keeps watching us, and it’s making me nervous.”
She thought it a little paranoid, but said, “Sure, if that’s what you want.”
“Maybe back to the park? That’s where I need dropped off anyway, and we can talk some more. What do you think?”
In an effort to lighten the mood, she replied, “Alright. Let’s blow this joint.”
Jim paid the bill, and they left the shop. As the door closed behind them, Jim casually turned to look back and sure enough—he was watching them depart. What is that guy’s problem?
****
Jim learned a lot that afternoon, both about her and his objective. She talked about her husband who died two years ago, leaving her alone and without an income. There was no bitterness or anger in her voice, only a strong drive to put it behind her and move on. Still, she could not hide her sadness when she spoke of her husband.
He let her talk. It was actually in his best interest to do so, for there wasn’t much he could tell her. Jim told her of his divorce, and the job he no longer had. He did not elaborate.
Eventually, she asked about his art. “Are you still drawing?”
“Not lately. I’ve been a little busy.”
Claire’s mischievous grin returned. “What could be more important than art?”
Jim needed to be careful how much he told her about his recent escapades, so he generalized his answer. “Well, getting up from the bottom. A week ago I had an old truck and some junk. Today I have a place to stay, and a way to change the direction of my life.” Jim smiled and added, “Plus, I’m sitting in Forest Park with a beautiful girl after having a nice lunch that I paid for.”
“You need to keep drawing. You know that. Right?”
Jim sighed and assured her, “I will, as soon as I find the time.”
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