Code of Siman (22 page)

Chapter Forty
A Stippled Surface

“The canvases weren’t difficult to take out since we had the private access of the servants’ stairs leading directly to the exterior of the castle,” Philippe said. Their helicopter circled the castle in the receding light, its lights twinkling; the one red light seeming to wink in the turret, having released one of its secrets to them, but possibly holding on to many more.

“I like what you said to the staffer when she saw you carrying the canvases to the helicopter,” Philippe laughed good-naturedly with Warren.

“Yes, she accepted my answer without question. My explanation that they were plans of the castle which we needed to build the secret passageways for the Treasure Hunt was believable,” Warren retorted, a twinkle in his eye as he reflected on their narrow escape.

“I still think we should have checked back with Francis before we left,” Philippe said, suddenly thoughtful.

“You really believe you are going to go back to your job as Marketing Representative and snag this account?” Warren laughed as he could see by Philippe’s expression that he was in fact thinking along that line.

“It’s possible,” Philippe declared, a mischievous smile lighting his features. It darkened just as quickly, “I don’t know why we can’t reach either Natanya or Dauphine.” His brow furrowed with concern, the paintings, coins and other treasures momentarily forgotten.

“You know Philippe, I think they are probably fine, and have either turned off their cell phones or have ditched them for a reason.” Warren’s voice trailed off as he thought of Dauphine, the spark within him igniting at the mere mention of her name.

“We’re going to have to bring this to the attention of the world in a way that can’t be disputed, can’t be twisted or forgotten,” Warren said more in an attempt to put thoughts of Dauphine out of his mind than anything else.

“We’ll join this last group of paintings with the rest, and then we’ll find some way to contact the women,” Philippe said, the tone of his voice deepened with worry he felt for their safety.

“A news conference,” Pascal said, joining the conversation. “I can put it together from Roman Abramovich’s house.”

Philippe snapped his fingers, “That’s it; we can show all the original paintings at once. The rest of the world will be able to see how it is our responsibility to return these to their rightful owners.”

“We’ll need to reach Natanya and Dauphine to receive the full list of names…but then, we don’t know if we can reach them,” Warren said. “Some of the matching up of owner to paintings can be done later…after the news conference.”

“Good…that’s good…let’s hope the rest of the paintings are still at Roman’s palatial estate when we get there,” Philippe said.

“Are you still worried about that? We have been given the use of his helicopters, his staff, his home…how much more do we need before we trust the man?” Warren asked, visibly frustrated.

“We’re about to land,” Warren glanced at Philippe’s stray belt buckle hanging over the side of the chair.

Philippe nodded, picked up both sides of the seat belt and pushed them together, the tell tale click resounding as he did so.

The helicopter landed smoothly and precisely on the roof without incident. Once they had touched down, the artifacts found at Chateau Chillon were carefully removed, leaving Warren, Philippe and Pascal free to establish contact with the media to set up the live news feed.

“Some of the paintings’ original provenance can be verified after the conference. Our main goal is to show the world the lost treasures, that the mission of Hitler had been undermined by a calculated risk of the Resistance, which paid off. Although we were unable to save the people, Hitler was unable to take everything from them as he had intended, as he thought he did. We need to show that in the end, he lost, having acquired mostly forged works for his museum in Linz.

“Agreed,” Warren said as he reflected on what Philippe had said.

Stepping out of the helicopter, Warren immediately moved aside to allow the paintings to be unloaded.

The two assistants of Roman’s made fast work of it with the help of several others, everything was brought in.

Philippe grasped Warren’s shoulder as he viewed the group of men bringing in the paintings. He told Warren, “I’ll follow your lead, whatever we encounter, I am prepared.”

Warren nodded and solemnly replied, “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

They followed the men up to a certain point, were stopped and asked to go through the scan, then redirected toward another entrance; the access to the area containing the paintings was closed upon them.

“Move forward.” The man’s voice had a harsh edge; it grated through the air, churning it, making them aware of their vulnerability.

Warren hung back, letting Pascal enter first, then Philippe. Once they completed the scan and entered the waiting area, which was more like a holding cell, a very nicely furnished holding cell, but one nonetheless, Bruno approached them, a smug look on his face.

“We need ownership information. Our deal was to receive paintings for our Russian people in exchange for assistance.”

“We’ll need to reach our colleagues in the United States in order to obtain that,” Warren replied warily.

“I say you reach them. No problem…” The Russian man’s shoulders gave a small shrug as he glanced quickly around them.

“It’s not that simple. We don’t want to be traced.” Warren’s lids lowered a fraction as he began to buy into Philippe’s theory.

“I solve problem. I bring one of you in to make untraceable call.” Bruno didn’t actually ask, just held out his arm in the direction of another room.

Bruno pulled out his thumb, selecting Pascal out of the group.

Philippe and Warren both surged forward. Bruno pushed aside his jacket to show them his gun holstered in his belt.

Both men stepped back to allow Pascal to exit with Bruno.

“Try NASA first, then the Gallery, Pascal,” Philippe yelled out as he ran his hand through his mass of unruly black hair. Sighing, he dipped his head down and didn’t watch them leave. “He should have chosen me.”

Philippe jumped up to pace the perimeter of the room. Not finding solace, he stopped in front of an armchair, contemplating whether to sit and be temporarily comforted. The physical duress won, and he sat upon the chair, but only upon the edge; the muscles of his thighs tensed, his hands positioned on his knees, he gave the impression of a panther ready to spring.

“He didn’t choose you because you’ve made it clear you don’t trust him…you may act out on impulse, create a problem for them,” Warren said.

“I just wanted to be able to hear her voice…then I would know…no matter what she said, I would know whether she was all right,” Philippe seemed to pull the words from his heart, where they had been tormenting him since he had lost contact with Natanya.

“As to why he brought in Pascal instead of me…” Warren had chosen to stand next to a collage of framed pictures depicting Roman in poses with iconic figures from around the world.

“Well, that’s easy. You are more calculating, much more direct than Pascal. Pascal is straight forward, you get what you see.” Philippe said somewhat bitterly.

“Not necessarily…there is that clever deception he had maneuvered through the newspaper…” Warren reminded Philippe.

“Yes…there was that,” Philippe acknowledged.

The side door opened, catching them both off guard. Philippe sprung out of his chair, and Warren spun around, both watching Pascal’s face for any sign of trouble as he entered.

“Dauphine was not available at NASA, and neither was Gage. No explanation as to when they would be available, or where they were. Tsun Jae couldn’t be reached either…” Pascal delivered the information steadily, without pausing.

Philippe exclaimed, “I knew it…there’s something…” he paused to glare at Bruno, “something is wrong…”

“Let’s not jump to conclusions… Was there anything else you were told regarding
any
of them?” Warren asked.

“I was informed that Tsun Jae would be unavailable for the rest of the day due to a private tour she had booked for elite guests. She had left word that she was not to be interrupted.”

Warren began to smile, but stopped before he gave any sign to Bruno that he knew where Dauphine, Natanya and Gage were.

“Well, that was a dead end,” Warren said.

“Yes, I guess we won’t be able obtain any information regarding the paintings just yet.”

“This is problem. No paintings for Russia…then no paintings for you.” Bruno took a seat in the club chair, his leg casually draped over the side.

Warren drew in his breath and made a quick movement toward Bruno, but Philippe stepped in front of him. “I’m impulsive?”

Warren glared at him. “We’ll need to go through the paintings…I have the ability to establish ownership. I know the code. It will take some time, but it can be determined.”

Bruno asked, “How much time?”

Warren swallowed hard, stalling so he could find out where Bruno was coming from. “A day…two at most.”

Bruno appeared to consider his request, and then pulled his leg in from the side of the armchair, and stood up, delivering his answer as he walked out. “We will see.”

The three of them were left in the windowless room, no ability to communicate with the outside world and completely cut off from the treasure they had painstakingly acquired.

A few minutes into their wait, a feast was delivered. Carts containing succulent dishes were rolled into the room, their delicious aromas wafted in their direction, but no one seemed interested, even after experiencing agonizing hunger that emanated to their core.

“There’s no sense in depriving ourselves of the sustenance we may need for the days ahead…Philippe…Pascal…?”

Warren lifted the silver domes off the platters, filled a plate and without waiting for the others, began to eat.

Pascal quickly followed suit, but Philippe held out…glancing at them from time to time, his thoughts clearly not on satiating his hunger for food, but on his hunger for answers.

After some time had passed, and Warren and Pascal had occupied themselves with books and objects within the room, Philippe selected a few items from the overflowing carts. Forcing himself to swallow, he was able to consume enough to ward off the hunger pains he had been experiencing.

The carts were cleared away shortly after, and Bruno stepped back into the room. The three men rose upon his entrance, worn down from the physical excursion but energized by the fight still left in them to accomplish what they had set out to do.

Philippe was the first to make a move. He rushed at Bruno, striking him with a swift blow to the cheek, then as Warren wrestled him to the ground, both looked up as Ted entered, gun drawn on them.

“Get up! Release him!” Ted instructed. His face was devoid of any expression.

Philippe and Warren slowly stood, allowing Bruno to do the same, and then waited for the consequences of their decision.

“That’s not what we expect when we help someone,” Bruno rubbed the side of his face absently as he spoke.

“Help someone? We have been left in this room for hours, unable to accomplish anything towards fulfilling our goal of matching up the paintings with their rightful owners. We’ve lost time, doing nothing but sitting and waiting for you to decide what you’re going to do. How is that helping?” Warren’s voice echoed within the paneled walls of the isolating room.

Bruno laughed, a slow chuckle bubbling up from his thin lips, “Is that what you think we’ve been doing?”

Philippe inclined his head, alert as to a change in his tone. Warren was about to speak but Philippe raised his hand, “No, Warren, there’s something they’ve done…something Bruno wants to tell us.” Philippe stepped forward, the tension of not knowing what was going on, from being in limbo evident on his features.

“Yes, Philippe. We have done something. Come with us, there is something we show you.” Bruno let Warren pass him to follow Ted, the two men barely disguising their antipathy for each other as they did so.

Once inside, they saw a nondescript man, dressed plainly, his average features undistinguishable from that of so many others, waiting for them to enter. He sat with his hands in his lap, his eyes to the floor, and then patiently without duress, he lifted his eyes to theirs and delivered his righteous message.

Chapter Forty-One
Jagged Flashes of Light

The light had flashed so strongly, that Tsun Jae had virtually disappeared, but there she was, right before them. Both Dauphine and Natanya had lunged forward to save her, had stepped off the moving platform, right onto a floor, its presence solid beneath their feet.

Around them were the paintings they had known would be there, and many others they didn’t. The original paintings seemed to hover in the air before them. Each of them reached forward to touch a painting, unsure of what they were seeing; wanting to be sure that it was real.

“I told you we find magic if it was meant to be.” Tsun Jae whispered, caught up in the mesmerizing vision of so many Old Masters displayed before them.

A male voice, resonating and strong engulfed them. “Stay where you are. So many people were never meant to occupy this space.”

“Russell?” Natanya whispered.

“You know him?” Dauphine asked.

“Tsun Jae, you have been given the answers to many of the questions you have been seeking. Many more remain to be answered.”

“Yes, I understand.”

“Good.”

Russell turned toward Dauphine and Natanya. “You will follow me, and I will lead you out. Any missteps and you will no longer be. Is that clear?”

“It is.” They replied in unison.

I. M. Pei opened his eyes, his upper lip glistening from the energy he had cast in his grand daughter’s direction.

He was waiting for them when they entered Warren’s old office. Tsun Jae ran to him, confused as to why he would be there.

“Grand-daughter, there is so much you don’t know yet. You must wait until you are ready.” I. M. Pei whispered as he reached out to her, holding her hands in his.

“I will reveal this much to all of you. There were missions accepted for our Allies during the war. United States harbored some of the paintings, as did other National Galleries such as London, France, and many others for safekeeping. The heads of each government have been entrusted to keep the secret safe until it is time.”

Natanya felt behind her for something to sit on, finding the leather tufted couch, she gratefully dropped into it, while Dauphine remained standing alongside Gage, both speechless as they listened.

“We want to divulge the secrets to the world, let them know of the existence of these paintings. Some of which have thought to have been lost.” Dauphine stated boldly.

“It has been discussed, as we have known this day would come. Just as you have discovered the answer, others are discovering it as well,” Russell spoke smoothly and evenly.

“By others, do you mean Warren, Philippe and Pascal?” Dauphine asked.

“Yes, that is what I mean.”

Dauphine inhaled deeply and continued, “We would like to show the paintings to the world. Let them see, as we have seen, how the Resistance was able to dupe Hitler. Return these paintings and other artifacts to the families of the people who perished in the camps.”

“Yes. It has been fifty years since we moved these few paintings, since we created this haven,” I. M. Pei said solemnly.

“We?” Gage and Natanya asked.

“There are always thirty-six chosen people to maintain the secrets of the world, all of whom are unknown to one another, all of whom maintain the balance. It has been decided that this secret should be revealed.”

“A news conference is approved? To tell the world…show the world…all of us together?” Natanya asked.

“Yes, you may restore what was once taken.” Russell unclasped his hands, which had been hanging loosely before him and in an unhurried manner; he stepped back from the doorway, raising his right hand in the direction of the lobby, guiding Dauphine, Natanya and Gage to the gathering media to disclose the culmination of all of their efforts.