Pictures at an Exhibition

Author: Dr Charles Forbin

Copyright (c) 2005

One of those things I have to deal with as the husband of Ms. Minkin Dawes-Forbin AKA Mistress Minx of Ay'esha is the wine and cheese circuit as the Bank is a heavy contributor to the arts.

I am not knocking that aspect at all, as I do enjoy the company of artists be they painters, sculptors, musicians or whatever.

Mistress Minx herself is a painter, composer and dancer.

Some people classify me as an artist because I write.

My usual response is, "I'm a tech by training, a salesman by necessity, and an author by avocation."

Where I have my problems is dealing with the other guests, usually in tux, formal or gown.

I put on my party face, waltz enough to deal with protocol and then generally sneak off to more rewarding pastimes, like thinking.

This particular function was for the DeJong Museum as a fundraiser for new art acquisitions, and the guests were some of the more moneyed and influential people in the City. With the few exceptions being the people from the tech industries, they bored the zardwarking photons out of me.

At least with some of the tech millionaires we could talk as techs, which was a relief for me as well as for them I'm sure.

In this case I left the Mistress to chat with the moneyed classes and wandered my way through the museum to see what there was to see. I found my way into the gallery of American Indian art where I found a Kwakiutl Raven Hamatsa mask in the exhibit and stood there smiling at it remembering a glacier, a blanket and a very cold night with two very warm people.

A couple more of the party guests wandered in and I'm sure they wondered what the smile on my face was about, but I wasn't about to enlighten them even if asked.

I resumed my tour and soon came across a young lady standing before a painting by Rubens in an intense conversation with an older man.

"I don't care what you tell me," I heard her say. "This piece is supposed to be in the Hermitage in Russia."

"Miss Brenner, I assure you that painting is quite real," the older gentlemen said," and if you persist in making wild accusations I will have to ask you to leave."

"Excuse me," I said walking up to them. "I couldn't help but overhear. Why do you think this painting is a fake?"

The young lady turned to me and gave me a once over look.

"This piece is listed in the international catalog as being in the Hermitage Museum in Russia. I've examined it as closely as Dr. Simon will permit and I can see the color palette is slightly off," she explained.

"How do you know that?" I asked confused.

She shrugged.

"The color is a little hard to explain. I see a little differently than most people because I have a wider color spectrum. I see indigo as well as violet."

"So what's the problem? I'm sure that Dr. Simon would be happy to produce the record of the transfer from the Hermitage to here," I said smoothly.

"I would not. And who are you anyway?" he demanded scornfully.

"He happens to be my husband," I heard the Mistress say from behind me. "Michael, would you like to explain this?"

"It seems the young lady has a difference of opinion with Dr. Simon as to the authenticity of this piece. I was suggesting that a quick look at the transfer records could settle the entire matter," I said.

Mistress Minx turned her attention to the young lady under discussion.

"And you would be?" she asked.

"Nicole Brenner, The Art Institute of Chicago, Miss?"

"Minkin Dawes-Forbin. My family is a contributor to the museum, and if there is any question about something being authentic, I would be very interested in hearing about it."

"Miss Dawes…" Dr. Simon started to say and was cut off.

"This is a social occasion, and I won't have even a hint of scandal leak out here and now. I will however decide if the board should hear about this matter later," the Mistress said changing her focus to him. "Michael, why don't you and Miss Brenner run along and I'll find you later?"

"Yes Mi'lady, I said offering my arm to Nicole who took it gracefully.

We returned to our tour of the museum with Nicole acting an as cultural guide to the underprivileged technical person and again in another exhibit spotted a piece of art that supposedly belonged in Russia.

"This is a work called the Three Women." she explained pointing to a somewhat cubical representation of three human figures. "This is also supposed to be in Russia."

"Wait a minute. I'm not Mr. Artsy Fartsey, but I've seen a work called the Three Women before. At least in that version, they were human." I objected.

"This is the way Picasso saw them." she corrected.

"And he must have really needed glasses." I joked.

"Mr. Forbin…" she warned.

"I know who Picasso is and some of his artworks, Miss Brenner. I'm not a complete barbarian," I countered.

There weren't any more surprises, but that was enough to convince me that Nicole Brenner wasn't a nut case or a flake.

I escorted her back to the main party area where I separated my beloved from her admirers and briefed her on the second odd painting.

"Miss Brenner, are you going to be in town long?" the Mistress asked.

"Actually I came out here to interview for a job, but I'd say after tonight I'm not likely to get it," Nicole said ruefully. "I just haven't learned to keep my mouth shut when I should."

"You may have done us all a good turn I think. Michael, get her address and phone number and we'll see if there is a problem or not."

I followed my instructions, gave Nicole one of the Mistress' cards and then escorted them both out to the limo where Tia sat waiting.

"Would you like a ride to your hotel?" the Mistress offered.

"I'd hate to be a bother," Nicole said hesitantly.

"You've already been that. Get in," the Mistress ordered cheerfully.

On the trip to the hotel, we learned that Nicole had studied at the California Institute of the Arts, studied in Paris at the Louvre and even a few months at the Smithsonian Institute. She had just lost a job as an assistant curator in Chicago due to a budget cut.

"So that's how I wound up here," she said. "Not sure where next since I blew this."

"I'd expect with your qualifications you wouldn't have too much trouble with work," I said.

She shook her head.

"The museum community is pretty close. If Dr. Simon calls my old job, I'm sunk throughout the museum world."

"The Daniel Jackson problem," I said looking at Mistress Minx.

"Explain yourself Michael," the Mistress directed.

"He's a character in the movie STARGATE. He's a linguist with a new theory that basically invalidates the dating of the pyramids. He's laughed at by an entire group of his peers and loses what little is left of his career as a scientist."

"And?" the Mistress prompted.

"Except for the fact he's right and they're wrong. And Miss Brenner is in the same position."

Tia brought the car to a stop at Nicole's hotel and escorted her inside while we waited.

"What do you think Michael?" the Mistress asked.

"I think she thinks she's right," I replied.

"I think that I'll make a phone call or two in the morning and find out," the Mistress replied.

Monday morning at the Bank was the usual flurry of cleaning up the mess from the weekend and don't let anybody kid you about banker's hours. Mistress Minx and I work for a living and while you sleep, the banking industry doesn't.

I checked in with her about halfway through the day to see how she was doing and was waved to a halt in her office as she carried on a conversation in impassioned Japanese which ended up half an octave higher than when I came in when she hung up.

"Problems Mi'lady?"

"Nothing I can't handle. Of course I may wind up doing a Godzilla imitation before I'm done. Oh and as to last night's little soirée, I'm going to deal with that right now," she said dialing the phone and holding up a hand as it was answered.

"Yes, this is Miss Dawes. Would you please have the insurance files for the DeJong Museum and the Hermitage Museum pulled and sent to my office. I specifically want the lists of artwork that Transglobal Insurance covers." she said.

She listened for a moment before speaking again.

"No, tomorrow is not good enough. I'm sending someone down there right now and by the time he gets there, I want those lists ready." she snapped and hung up.

"Whoa." I said startled. "I'm still on duty on the help desk Mi'lady."

"If anybody asks, tell them I stopped you. Get down there and pick up the lists, " she directed. "And tell me what you find later."

I made my way downstairs to the offices of Transglobal Insurance and presented myself at the door of the accounting department.

"Hi," I said to the clerk through the glass sliding window. "Miss Dawes sent me down to pick up some data."

He shrugged.

"You'll have to wait." he said and sat back down again.

"Actually, no I won't." I said, sliding my ID card through the reader next to the door. It buzzed open and I walked in and confronted the clerk, a Mr. Bartleby according to the nameplate on his desk.

"Now, let's try this again. I was sent down to pick up some data. Your people were told to have it ready. My boss is going to have someone's backside in a sling if I don't get it, and I'd prefer it be yours." I explained.

"You can't tell me what to do." he objected, "I don't work for you."

I sighed.

"If I don't get the data Miss Dawes asked for, neither of us will be working here" I replied.

"What did you want?" he said reaching for his computer keyboard.

"Miss Dawes wants the list of artworks insured by the DeJong Museum and the Hermitage Museum." I said.

He punched a few keys and pulled up two files.

"OK. I'll get them printed out." he said.

"Wait a minute. Can you compare all the files for all the museums insured by Transglobal and sort out the items that are the same in multiple files?"

"Sure." he said, his surly mood lightening somewhat.

He tapped in a sort command and selected execute from the menu.

A moment later the screen displayed a list.

"These are the same in multiple files?" I said looking at the list.

"Yes. Why?"

"Just print this out for me please." I said.

"Done."

The laser printer on his desk spat out a page and then sighed to a halt.

"A pleasure to do business with you Mr. Bartleby", I said taking the page.

He shrugged and ignored me again.

I read over the list carefully in the elevator on the way back to my desk in Tech Support and noted that ten items were listed as insured in multiple museums, including the two Nicole had suspected.

Somebody was lying, but who?

I kept the information to myself until the end of the day when I went in to see if Minx was coming home with me or staying.

"You need anything Mi'lady?" I asked looking at the documents on her desk.

"Yes, I need a set of twenty-five hours days, and for my dinner to be sent in and all other distractions to be sent out." she said when I asked.

"I can pick it up for you." I offered.

"Not tonight. As much as I love you, tonight even you would be a distraction. Just call and have my usual delivered. Go on home." she said.

"Yes Ma'am." I said and started to walk out.

"Wait a minute. How did it go with the lists?" she called.

"Somebody is screwed up, because no less than ten items are listed as insured in more than one museum." I said.

"Hold it. Ten items?" she said with a frown.

"Ten items, including the two Nicole spotted." I said and pulled the list out of my briefcase, handing it to her.

She looked at it and then filed it.

"I want to think about something. I'll talk to you tomorrow about it." she said.

"OK." I conceded and left after calling the Thai place and ordering her dinner.

The next morning I received a call from Ed Rheimers, in the Fraud Investigation department at Transglobal Insurance.

"Mr. Forbin, Miss Dawes called us last night and advised us that you discovered an attempt to defraud the company. Would you be interested in working on the case for us?"

"Doing what?" I asked warily.

"We'd like to borrow you for a few weeks. Miss Dawes says you speak Russian and that one of your associates has a background in art history."

"Associate?"

"Yes, a Nicole Brenner from the Art Institute of Chicago."

"Well I have no objections if it's been cleared with the Bank. I can't really speak for Miss Brenner, but I don't have any reason to expect a negative answer." I said.

"Fine, if you will check with her and call me back, I'd appreciate it. We need to send you to Saint Petersburg right away."

"Florida?"

"Russia." he said and hung up.

Russia. Russia! Holy shit.

I called Nicole and outlined the request, assuring her that she would be paid for her time, as well as all expenses.

She agreed without hesitation and thanked me for the chance.

"It may turn out for nothing, but Miss Dawes has a lot of pull with the museum so it might pay off anyway," I said. "I'll contact you with all the gory details when I get them."

I smiled as I hung up and then got up and knocked on Miss Dawes' office door before entering.

"I take it she said yes." Minx said looking up.

"Are you tapping my phone now?" I replied.

"I always have." she countered in a serious tone.

"I hope you enjoy listening to my calls for take out food then. So, it's up to you. Can I go play with the Russkies?"

She smiled.

"Yes you may. But I'd like to suggest you be very careful," she said.

"I usually am, you know that."

"After the incident with Susan's father and the Russian Mafia, I have every right to worry about you. If they're involved, it could be more dangerous than you think."

"I'll be careful. And I'm sure Nicole will be." I said reassuringly.

Pulklovo Airport met every stereotypical expectation I'd ever had about Russia.

It was cold dull gray concrete buildings with even colder security guards waiting at the customs area to search our luggage.

"Documents." the officer demanded.

Nicole passed me her passport and visa and I handed mine as well as hers to the inspector who examined them closely.

"Your documents state you are an investigator. What is your business here?" he demanded.

I summoned up my nerve before speaking.

"I have been sent here to assist the curators of the Hermitage in protecting the works from criminals. My assistant is an expert in art." I explained.

He looked at Nicole as she stood shivering from the cold and then spoke to one of the other guards.

The guard stepped around the barricade and to my surprise removed his coat and wrapped the fur around her.

"We can not allow a young lady to get chilled while we wait for your escort." the inspector said.

"I don't understand." I said confused.

"We were instructed to keep you here until your escort arrived from the Museum." he explained in somewhat warmer tones. "You are considered valued guests of my country."

I'd say something was rotten in the State of Denmark, but Denmark was at least a couple of hundred miles further west.

The mystery was cleared up about ten minutes later when a black car arrived and the last person I expected to see in the world stepped out, although I have to admit it was more probable I'd see him here than at home.

Gregor Kirov

I hadn't seen him for more than a few minutes since that night he'd punched out Minx's Master in Barcelona and I bailed him out of jail.

"Mikhail!" he shouted giving me a bear hug. "Tovarich!"

"It's good to see you too Gregor." I managed to grunt out before he released me.

"And where is your charming boss?" he asked looking at Nicole.

"Working. She loaned me out to the insurance company. This is Nicole Brenner, my assistant and the young lady who discovered the problem", I explained.

Gregor bowed and kissed her hand as I watched.

"You know each other?" Nicole asked in surprise.

"Gregor and I met some time ago in Spain with Miss Dawes. He punched someone out that had given me some grief and I bailed him out of jail."

"My friend, I still owe you for that." Gregor responded.

"For bailing you out or for getting you thrown in?" I asked cautiously.

"Both. But now, we go to the Grand Hotel Europe. It's very late and I know you are on a different time, so you need some sleep. We'll talk more in the morning."

The Grand Hotel Europe is a landmark, even in the historical landmark rich city of St. Petersburg.

Almost every famous Russian actor, actress and composer have stayed there including Tchaikovsky and Anna Pavlova, although I don't know if they were there together.

The desk clerk despite the late hour or early hour depending on how you look at it was cordial enough and Gregor explained that we were to be accorded every possible consideration.

The room was decorated beautifully, silks and satins made me feel like the Czar himself.

"I'm sorry that you will have to share a room," Gregor apologized. "I was not expecting someone other than your boss."

"This will be just fine Mr. Kirov. I don't expect Mr. Forbin is going to force himself upon me," Nicole said reassuringly.

"I am more concerned about you forcing yourself on him," he laughed. "I will see you both in the morning."

He left and Nicole turned to me.

"What was that all about?" she asked.

"Gregor Kirov and his partner were attending a conference in Barcelona a few years ago. They tried to pull the old badger game on me and wound up looking about as stupid as they could get. Not that Natalia wasn't a nice looking girl, but when I'm working, I'm working."

"Can you trust him after that?"

"Old American Proverb: Trust but verify. And assume he's listening to everything we're saying, isn't that right Gregor?" I said loudly.

She laughed.

"Ok, I get your point. Now do you want to sleep in the bed, or on the couch?" she said.

"You take the bed, I'll take it tomorrow," I suggested. "Besides, I want to keep an eye on things anyway."

"Okay," she said. "Do you mind turning around?"

"I've seen a naked woman before," I said amused.

"That's fine. I just don't intend to add my image to your memories," she rebutted.

I laughed and walked into the bathroom and closed the door behind me.

The bathroom by the way was just as opulent as the rest of the room with the sink having gold plated fixtures. I turned on the hot water and was rewarded in typical soviet fashion with a long stream of cold before a burst of tepid water.

I made a mental note to warn Nicole about that before she took a shower.

I waited a few discreet minutes and returned to the main room and found her in bed, under the covers and already sound asleep so I took the spare blanket off the end of the bed and a pillow and nested on the couch and closed my eyes.

Tomorrow as Scarlet put it, would be another day.

Morning came all too soon to St. Petersburg with the sound of a startled shriek.

Nicole had discovered the hot water situation on her own.

Oh well.

She came out of the bathroom a few minutes later wrapped in a robe with her hair in a towel and very obviously awake from the experience.

"I didn't get a chance to warn you about the hot water," I said apologetically." I found out last night, but you were already asleep."

"Well after that, I can't say the day can't get any worse," she replied.

I made a mental reservation that if she was going to be around the Mistress and I for any length of time, she'd learn it could and probably would at any given time, get worse.

This is not pessimism: This is a hard truth.

"Do you want to order breakfast while I get cleaned up?" I asked.

"I don't speak Russian, "she said.

"Don't worry about it. At a place like this they speak English just fine," I assured her. "In a worst case just say "Govorite li vy po angliyski? Or Nyet Russki, Da Angliyski?"

"What does that last phrase mean?"

"Think of it as pidgin Russian for I don't speak Russian." I said and left her to it.

She succeeded because when I came out of the bathroom after a quick shower a waiter had arrived with a cart and was setting plates of food on the table.

"I wasn't sure what you wanted, so I ordered a little of everything," she said as the waiter set a samovar of tea down.

"Good move," I agreed. "Usually I'm a bacon, toast and coffee kind of guy in the morning but not knowing when lunch is going to be, a full belly is a good idea."

"I didn't order coffee, sorry." she apologized.

"That's ok, not a problem. Tea is traditional anyway in Russia anyway," I said signing the offered check and tipping the waiter.

We ate in relative silence and about the time we finished breakfast, Gregor arrived and poured himself a cup of tea.

"The director of the museum is a stubborn man, but I managed to persuade him to let you examine the Rubens for authenticity," he said.

"He doesn't have a choice Gregor," I said staring at him over the rim of my teacup. "If the painting in the DeJong is a fake, we're going to locate the seller and deal with them on some very serious fraud charges. The only way to confirm it is to check your Rubens."

"So why does he not have a choice?"

"Because Transglobal will pull the insurance policies on all your paintings for refusing to cooperate. And when the word goes out as to why we pulled them, you won't be able to get anybody to insure them at all."

Gregor shrugged.

"There is nothing to worry about on that score. The real one is hanging on a wall not a mile from here."

"I'll be the judge of that," Nicole said.

"Of course," Gregor replied setting his cup down. "Shall we go?"

It was a short walk up the Nevsky Prospekt to the Hermitage and then to the office of the museum director Dr. Mikhail Borisovic.

"I have no objections to the examination, despite what you might have been told," he said with a cold stare at Gregor. "I just do not believe it is necessary. It is time consuming and difficult to remove the painting from the gallery."

"That's not going to be necessary at all sir, "Nicole said reassuringly. "I can examine it in place and determine what I need to know."

The director raised his eyebrows to his hairline at that.

"Without equipment you can verify something like that?" he said in amazement.

"It's a talent," she explained.

"A very useful one," I added. "Shall we go?"

We took the Main Staircase to the second floor and walked through the Van Dyck room and into the Rubens room.

There hanging on the wall was what to my eye looked like an exact duplicate of the painting at the DeJong back in the City.

Nicole walked over to it and looked at it carefully, then pulled a small flashlight from her handbag and illuminated a small area and examined it, then touched it gingerly.

"Well?" I asked.

"Mr. Borisovic, when was the last time this painting was cleaned?" she asked looking at the director.

"I would have to check, but probably in the last two years. Why?" he asked.

She showed her fingers to the three of us, smudged with paint.

"Unless you've been cleaning these things with turpentine, I think you have a problem."

"How did this happen?" the director demanded of the curator of the Rubens collection as we met behind closed and locked doors in the conference room of the museum.

"I have no idea sir," the curator said in a shaking voice. "The last examination of the painting was less than a year ago. In that time someone must have replaced the real one with the duplicate."

"From the condition of the paint it would have had to be swapped out in the last twenty four to forty eight hours," Nicole said. "The surface was still slightly tacky."

"This is incredible," the director stormed.

"But not unprecedented," I said taking a notebook out of my briefcase and consulting it. "Two years ago someone stole a painting right out of this place in broad daylight by cutting it out of it's frame."

Gregor looked at the director and then sighed.

"Yes, the painting Pool in Harem by Jean Léon Gérôme. We are still trying to locate the thief."

"Well this time they've gone one better. They replaced the stolen painting with a fake to gain more time to get rid of the original."

"So you're assuming that they just put the forgery up in the last two days?" Nicole asked.

I looked at Gregor speculatively before answering.

"I'm saying that when someone here got the word there was a question about the authenticity of the painting, they took steps to muddy the waters further," I said.

"Are you insinuating that we hid the original painting?" the curator said becoming angry.

"I'm insinuating nothing. I am saying that there is a major security issue and a missing painting. If I don't find some answers and quickly, this will become a very public scandal and I don't think I need to discuss the consequences of that, now do I?"

"Mikhail why don't you and your young lady take a walk through the rest of the museum," Gregor suggested. "There may be even more of these problems that we haven't found yet."

I ripped a page from my notebook and handed it to him.

"One more actually according to our computer. Das vidanya tovarich." I said and escorted Nicole out of the office as Gregor read the list.

"Shouldn't we have stayed in there?" Nicole asked as we walked down the corridor to the main museum area.

"Nope. I want Gregor to have the chance to put the screws to those people privately. Besides, it gives him something to do while we use your talents to check the rest of the items on the list," I explained. "Also it gives him time to get his people in place to tail us."

"Excuse me?" she said as we started up the staircase.

"Gregor will follow old habits I'm sure, and make sure we're kept under surveillance. Which I don't mind at all actually. I have a couple of theories as to who may be responsible for the removal of the paintings and in one of those cases I want backup."

"Tell me something, do you do this for a living?" she asked as we strolled through the galleries.

"I'm a computer tech by profession, but I work for the bank as an information analyst. That has given me a certain insight into how things work and why."

"Are you going to tell me your theory, or do I have to play Dr. Watson to your Sherlock Holmes?' she said in slightly miffed tones.

"More Tuppence to my Tommy," I said. "If it's the Russian Mafia I want Gregor's people to be right behind them. Having dealt with them in the past, it's safer to have backup. If it's someone else, the same thing applies. It's just less likely to be fatal to us."

"And how did you get involved with the Russian Mafia?" she asked pointedly.

"The Bank is very strict on who it does business with. And in one case they found out that one of their investments was a front for money laundering for the Russian Mob. I had to check the facts and wound up almost getting shot for my trouble," I said glibly.

"So you don't always have a nice quiet life," she said. "I had my suspicions about you."

"Do tell," I said as we stopped in front of Rembrandt's The Return of the Prodigal Son.

"You don't act like most computer techs I know. And you don't act like an accountant. You're also very deferential to your wife, more so than most men."

"I may just be well trained," I grinned. "And my wife is also my employer technically. You're making a lot of stew out of one oyster."

"You also know way too much about how intelligence agents work," she accused.

"Ok, you got me. I confess," I said lowering my voice and looking around furtively. "I write spy stories under a pen name."

She stamped her foot petulantly.

"Be serious," she said.

"I am serious," I said raising my voice to a normal level. "That's what I do. I'm an armchair James Bond."

"I'm going to get the truth out of you eventually," she said and walked into the next room.

By the time we finished our tour of the museum she had examined the Picasso on Bartleby's list and determined it was a reproduction of the finest degree as well..

"Well you and the computer can now claim to be infallible," I said as we walked out of the museum and across the Palace Square towards the Winter Canal.

"Where are we going now?' she asked as we walked along.

"Do you have a compact in your purse?" I asked stopping by a light post.

"Why?"

"If you do, just get it out and powder your nose. And in the process look behind you about fifty feet or so at the blond woman in the black dress with a large purse," I said.

She looked at me doubtfully and then did as I asked.

"Ok, what about her?" she asked.

"Memorize that face. That is our new best friend. She's been shadowing us since we left the Picasso room. I spotted her in the reflection of the brass work in one of the galleries," I explained. "I don't know whose side she's on yet, so I'm not planning on going back to the hotel or the Museum right away."

"So what are we going to do?" she asked.

"Let's wander up the Prospect and see what we can find. We're just American tourists seeing the sights."

We walked down to the Prospect and turned towards our hotel, stopping at street vendors on occasion, stepping into stores and in general just being tourists. I did however notice that our friend stuck with us and some where along the line, she had picked up a friend of her own, so we were now leading a train.

"Nicole, we've got a new player," I said softly into her ear as she leaned over to inspect a doll in a toyshop. "Male, dark hair, about six foot one, tan raincoat. He's been trailing the blond."

"So now what?"

"We keep moving until something useful comes along."

Useful finally presented itself in the form of a Metro sign pointing into the subway.

"Come on," I said leading the way down.

I bought a couple of all system passes so we could use the Metro or the trams and bus system and hurried Nicole through the gate just as the blond reached the bottom of the steps.

A train pulled in as we walked up and blended into the crowd boarding the train, but making sure we stayed near an exit door once we got on.

"Now what mastermind?" Nicole asked as the train pulled out.

"We get off at the next transfer point and change directions," I explained. "I don't know if our two friends made the train or not, but if we don't know where we're going, I know they won't."

"I really hate this," she said.

"Why?"

"Because it's starting to become fun."

"It can be. That is until the bullets start flying," I said as the train sighed to a halt and the doors opened at the next station.

We changed trains from our Blue Line train to a Red Line train at the Technological Institute, over to a Yellow Line at Dostoevskaya and then to a Green Line at the Moyakovskaya Station where we switched back to the Blue Line and got off at Gorkovoskaya on the other side of the Neva River from the Hermitage bringing our excursion to a slower pace as we walked back across the bridge to the Palace Square.

"You think that lost them?" Nicole said as we paused for a cup of tea at a small café.

"I don't see them behind us. They might be waiting at the Museum again of course," I admitted.

"So why did you put us through all of that train jumping?" she asked.

"Because it didn't hurt anything to do it. If nothing else, it lets the other side know that we know that they know that we know they know," I admitted. "I'm going to call Gregor at the museum, assuming he's still there and let him know what's going on."

I asked the café owner if I could use her phone while slipping her a large ruble note at the same time and then dialed 110-9625.

The museum operator answered and I asked her to switch me through to the Director.

"Who is calling please?" she asked.

"I'm working with Gregor Kirov and I understand he's with the director. Put me through," I said sharply.

"One moment."

Gregor answered himself.

"Da?"

"Hey Gregor, how's it hanging? Just thought you might like to know that I've had a lovely tour of the Metro shaking a couple of tails," I said cheerfully.

"No trust in you at all is there Mikhail," he grumbled. "Where are you now?"

"First things first. I take it you checked the list I gave you. What is the official position of the museum?"

"Denial of course. I am of course having inquiries made. They did not just disappear without some kind of inside help," he said.

"I would have never guessed that Gregor," I said sarcastically. "Right now I just want to focus on the Rubens."

"Agreed. Where do you want to start?"

"That's up to Nicole. What I do want right now however is a little honesty. How many people do you have assigned to tail us?"

"One." he admitted.

"Ok, then we have a problem, because we had two. A woman was being tailed by a man."

The next few words were not repeatable in polite company.

"Very well," he said when he calmed down a little. "We obviously have a problem."

"We do and it's your job to stop it. We're going back to the hotel and in the morning we'll be back to start really looking around," I said and hung up.

I rejoined Nicole and gave her the gist of the conversation.

"Well the first place I'd start looking is the department that handles the cleaning and restorations. The people there have the materials and the talent to do a copy of that quality," she said. "That's the first place to check in the morning."

"Why wait until morning?" I said looking at my watch. "They're still open for another hour. It will throw Gregor off balance as well as the bad guys if we show up now."

"I defer to your superior knowledge," Nicole said raising a teacup in salute.

"Never superior knowledge. I'm making it up as I go along."

We finished our tea and walked back to the museum where after reentering the building we consulted a floor plan to locate the museum restoration facility then set off in that direction.

As we walked along I kept a careful eye out for a resumption of the surveillance of earlier in the day but we passed unmolested into the depths of the museum offices.

We were never challenged or stopped by any of the workers we passed which just confirmed my feelings that security was a bit lax in some ways.

That impression quickly faded as we reached one well-guarded doorway with a uniformed guard stationed by it.

He stared at us coldly his hand on his gun holster, his eyes following us down the hallway as we passed.

"I wonder what's behind door number one?" I said as we turned the corner.

"I don't think you should try and find out," Nicole said as we walked through a door into a large open space with people dressed in lab smocks working on a number of paintings of various styles propped on easels.

"This area isn't open to the public," one bushy bearded man called when he saw us." You'll have to leave."

"I'm from the Chicago Institute of Art," Nicole announced. "Mr. Forbin is from Transglobal Insurance. We're investigating a missing painting."

"Now that was subtle," I muttered to her.

"I have a plan," she said.

"Custer had a plan." I replied softly.

The man who had spoken crossed over to where we were standing and faced us with an angry expression.

"Are you accusing one of us of theft?" he said sharply, his eyes narrowed.

"I'm accusing one of your people of being a very fine art forger," she said. "Who is the expert on Rubens?"

He turned and pointed to a small thin man who sat with a brush gripped in his teeth watching us.

"Ivan is our expert on Rubens," he said and motioned to him.

The little man slid off his stool and came towards us slowly and tentatively and stopped a couple of feet away from us and looked at us intently

"I'm not going to bite you," Nicole said." I want your opinion on something is all."

"Ivan is deaf young lady," the bearded man explained. "He reads lips."

Nicole looked at me.

"Now what?"

I turned to the bearded man.

"Does he read lips in English or Russki?" I asked.

"So far as I know he doesn't speak English at all," the man replied.

"Ah. Would you please ask him to come with us to the Rubens room?"

"Why?" the bearded man asked.

"We need his opinion on something. You can come along if you like," I said generously.

The bearded man frowned and spoke to Ivan who shrugged and nodded.

"We will come with you," the bearded man said.

We returned to the Rubens room and as the little man saw the Bacchus his eyes widened and his hands clenched into fists as he turned to us.

"Monstrous!" he spat in Russian through gritted teeth, then went into a volley of Russian that far exceeded my ability to understand.

"It would seem that he doesn't know anything about this matter judging from the results," I said as the man turned and continued his tirade to the bearded man.

"I'd say not," Nicole agreed. "I just wish I knew half of what he was saying."

"What little I do understand is telling me he thinks it's a monstrous crime and the criminal should be shot," I said.

His agitation was enough for a security guard to arrive followed soon after by Gregor and the director.

"I should have known you wouldn't just go back to the hotel," Gregor said sourly as the director worked to calm the little man. "Did you accomplish anything with this little scene?"

"Yes actually. I've cleared your staff of suspicion," Nicole said before I could speak." Now I want his opinion on who could have done a forgery of this quality."

"I think we should take this discussion back to my office," Dr. Borisovic suggested looking around at the group that was starting to gather.

We were all seated in the conference room and Dr. Borisovic had a samovar of tea sent in before we started the discussion.

"There are things that need to be discussed and we should all be comfortable before we start," he said as he drew tea from the spigot and passed the cups around.

"First, I would like to apologize for a deception on my part. I was aware that our Bacchus was a forgery some months ago, but hid it from the rest of the staff. Not even Dimitri knew," he said indicating the bearded man.

"Why didn't you report the theft?" I asked.

He shrugged.

"Pride I suppose. This was just after the theft of Pool in Harem and I didn't wish to risk another public embarrassment."

"Well you have one now for sure. Any idea how it was removed." Nicole asked.

"None. I inherited the problem so to speak from my predecessor."

"Where is he now?" I asked.

"That is what we would like to know," Gregor said. "One of the reasons I am here is until your message, we didn't even have an idea where the missing artwork might be. It was our hope the artwork and the former director would be together."

"All right, I'll accept that. But if you knew you had one fake, how did the second fake get here?"

"Ah well, that is another matter, not of my doing. Mr. Kirov?"

Gregor got up from his place at the table and pulled a videocassette from his pocket and slipped it into a VCR that was sitting at the back of the room.

"This is a tape that was made from the security camera in the Rubens room the night before you arrived," he explained and pushed a button.

A screen lowered from the ceiling and we saw projected on the screen, a dimly lit room captured on tape with a time code centered at the bottom.

"This was taken shortly before two in the morning local time," Gregor narrated. "Watch the top of the image carefully."

As we started at it, I suddenly saw two shapes drop in from the ceiling on wires with a large square item in their hands before the image broke up into white noise. When the noise cleared they were gone as quickly as they appeared and Gregor stopped the tape.

"They came in through the ventilation system after climbing onto the roof," he explained.

"Roll the tape back again will you and freeze it just before the picture breaks up," I asked.

He rewound the tape and froze the image just before the picture blanked.

I walked up to the image on the screen and looked at it carefully.

"No man could have gotten through the vents," Dr Borisovic said.

"No man did," I said turning to face the group. "But a woman."

"What?" Gregor said and walked forward to join me.

"Take a close look. Unless those bulges are chest mounted equipment or you have some real skinny small drag queens around here, those are women."

He looked and then scowled.

"Mikhail is right," Gregor agreed. "The two thieves were women."

"Your thieves were pretty sophisticated too. Portable RF jammers to screw up the camera. They probably activated them a little too late, or we wouldn't have any thing at all to see."

"Women thieves."

"We'd call them cat burglars at home," I said. "I wonder if they knew they were stealing a fake?"

"Now that is a damned interesting question," Nicole said suddenly. "Dr. Borisovic, did you x-ray the fake painting?"

"No, no we didn't," he said after a moment. "Once we knew it was a forgery it seemed pointless."

I had a sudden flash of insight as to where Nicole was going with this.

"Purloined letter," I said.

"Exactly," she replied.

"What do you mean purloined letter?" Dimitri asked.

"What if someone painted a fake over the real painting and left it until they were ready for it?" she suggested.

"That would take months," he objected.

"They might have had months to do it. If the previous director was involved, he could have had the forger work a little at a time, or do it all when the picture was removed for cleaning."

I started laughing.

"This is too good to be true. Nicole, do you suppose that anybody at the DeJong did an authentication X-ray?"

"Well I would, but I'm not sure that Dr. Simon would have," she said carefully.

"Gregor, I need to make a phone call," I said.

"Yes, you do," he agreed and handed me the phone.

I looked at my watch and did the calculation and shrugged then dialed the number.

"Do you know what time it is?" the Mistress growled.

"Five thirty-seven in the afternoon Moscow time Mi'lady," I said.

I heard the covers move as she sat up.

"Is every thing all right?" she asked concerned.

"We may have solved part of the mystery, " I said. "Make sure someone at the DeJong does an authentication X-ray on the Rubens and then have them call me at the Grand Hotel Europe in St. Petersburg with the results."

"All right. How is Nicole doing?" she asked.

"She's damned good Mi'lady and getting better all the time," I said. "Almost too good in some ways."

"Oh? I take it she's there and you can't talk, so you can tell me about it later. Anything else?"

"No, just that I love you. Get some more sleep," I said.

"I love you too. Be careful."

I hung up the phone and looked at Nicole.

"Now we wait. It's early morning in California, so we probably won't have any answers until early morning here," I explained. "So lets see what we have here."

"One, we have the people who stole the fake Rubens and left the wet one behind," she said.

"Two, we have the people who stole the real paintings." I said.

"And it's obvious that the two groups are not the same or they wouldn't have taken the risk of stealing a fake painting," Gregor added.

"Unless they intended to confuse the issue as I said this morning." I added.

"Please don't make it any worse than it is Mikhail," Gregor moaned.

"I hadn't planned on it. My focus is going to be on the Rubens and see if that takes us to the others. If it does, great and if not at least we'll have one back."

"Do you have some ideas?" Gregor asked.

"A few. And tomorrow I'll have even more. Nicole, let's go to dinner," I said taking her by the arm.

As we ate dinner in the hotel restaurant Nicole finally called my bluff.

"You haven't even got a faint clue as to what is going on, do you?" she accused.

"Well I wouldn't say that exactly," I admitted. "I'm not sure I believe Gregor about the other painting at all. It's too pat an answer. "

"That's what I thought too but I didn't want to say anything," she admitted.

"I'm glad you didn't. I'm limited in what I can do here, but when I talk to my wife I may be able to get some information about the former director from her."

"Any ideas about the people on the tape we saw?" she continued.

"Not a one. I was hoping that you had an idea," I said.

"Well, let's consider it logically," she said. "How many people could do a painting of that quality that live in this area?"

"Another one for the lady," I said.

"If we had an Internet connection I could find out right now," Nicole commented. "The art museums maintain a list of known forgers."

"Maybe we can look into that tomorrow," I said yawning. "Sorry about that."

Nicole looked out of the window of the restaurant at the sky. One of those little oddities about St Petersburg at that time of year is that the nights are only about five hours long so while it was almost ten o'clock local time, the sun was still up.

"That's all right," she said. "I'm tired too. Let's go to bed."

"Is that an invitation?"

She smirked.

"You wish. It's your turn for the bed tonight," she said.

I paid the check and we went up to our room to settle in for the night, if you could call it that, with Nicole taking the couch and myself using the bed.

I woke up at the sound of a soft thud, not much louder than a pillow hitting the floor, but it was enough to make me sit up and reach for the light switch on the bedside lamp.

I never made it though as I felt a strong arm grab me and then smelled a pungent aroma and was smothered with a sweet smelling cloth.

When I woke up again I was in a chair with my wrists tied behind my back and a headache that didn't want to quit. Through my blurred vision I could see Nicole also tied to a chair in front of me, half dressed, her head hanging loosely from the effects of the drug.

I head a voice from behind me mutter something in Russian and then my head was pulled back sharply to face a woman dressed in black wearing a mask that left only her eyes exposed.

"What are you?" she demanded, her eyes a bright tiger green. "Who do you work for?"

I coughed and tried to reply but the drug had left my throat too dry to speak.

She released my head and walked out of sight then returned a minute later with a glass of liquid that she poured into my mouth

It wasn't water and I coughed even more splattering her clothes.

"Now what are you? Police? Interpol?" she demanded angrily slapping me across the face.

"Insurance," I croaked. "Transglobal Insurance."

"And her?" she said forcing my head in Nicole's direction.

"Art expert."

She walked out of my view again and I could hear a low voiced discussion behind me.

I could now see that we were being held in some kind of fisherman's shed judging from the piles of netting and I could smell the rotting scent of marsh water and see a dim light glinting through the cracks in the planked walls.

Nicole started to move and then her head jerked up and she screamed.

The response was quick and violent as the masked woman stepped into view and slapped her so hard she knocked the chair over.

"Be silent unless you want to die," the woman hissed and walked away leaving her on the floor.

Nicole moaned and I could see a trickle of blood from her mouth run onto the floor.

The discussion behind me resumed again and then another woman also masked and dressed in black stepped into view and set Nicole's chair upright again and blotted her bleeding lip with a dirty towel.

"You have become involved in something you should not be involved in," she said looking at me.

"I'm good at that," I said. "And I don't even get paid for it."

"Keep that sense of humor. You may need it," she said throwing the towel down and walking away.

"Who are these people?" Nicole asked licking the blood from her lip.

"I didn't get an introduction myself," I said as the green-eyed woman stepped back into view.

"Who told you we were going to rob the Museum?" she asked.

"Which time?" I asked.

"What do you mean by that?" she asked.

"There are two paintings missing," I said. "Including the Rubens."

"We have the Rubens," she spat. "What about the other painting?"

I looked at Nicole.

"The Three Graces in the museum is a fake and so is the Rubens you just stole. Let my partner examine it and we'll prove it to you," I suggested.

"I have no need to make any kind of deal with you," she said taking a knife out of her belt and walking over to Nicole. "I can just cut her up for bait."

"Good point," I said watching the light glint off the blade.

"And sharp," she added. "We will check our Rubens. If it is a fake, we will have more questions for you."

She walked out of my sight and then after a few minutes I heard a door shut and the click of a padlock.

"How many of there were there?" I asked Nicole.

"Four, all in black and masked," she said. "Now what are we going to do?"

"Well unless you really want to stick around and possibly get killed, I'd like to suggest we leave."

"How?" she asked.

I flexed my wrists, testing the tightness of the ropes and then levered myself up onto my feet and duck walked over to a post supporting the ceiling.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm trying to get rid of this chair," I explained and started banging the chair into the post.

It was a close race but the chair shattered before the post did although I almost cracked it through, and I stepped out of the debris and knelt behind Nicole's chair to look at her bindings.

"Well?" she asked.

"This is going to take a little while," I said and started pulling on the knots with my teeth.

It did take a while and my lips were bleeding by the time I got the ropes loosened.

She didn't waste any time in untying my hands, which by now were going numb.

"Goddess that hurts, "I said as the blood flowed back into my fingers.

"So how do we get out?" she asked.

I looked around for any kind of tools like an axe or a pry bar but I could see anything. In searching however I did find an old sweater and a battered shirt and gave one to Nicole to cover herself.

"Thanks I think," she said wincing at the smell of the musty clothing.

"You want to go out topless, I'm up for it. Besides, you have a nice set," I commented.

"Thank you!" she huffed.

I kept looking around the shed and finally decided that the best way out was not going to be the easiest.

"How good are your legs?" I asked.

"You've seen them as well as a lot more of me than I ever intended," she said sourly.

"I mean how strong are they?" I pressed.

"Pretty strong," she said. "Why?"

I led her to the back wall and took a karate stance.

"Here's your chance to sing Kung Fu Fighting," I said and made a side thrust kick to the back wall that almost threw me off balance, but I could hear the boards crack on impact.

She started on the board next to mine and in a short time we had the boards broken all the way through and could see water and in the distance, city lights

That's when time ran out as we heard the noise of a car motor stopping outside and then the rattle of the padlock.

"Remember you said your day couldn't get any worse after the shower? Well it's about to," I said. "Jump."

Martin Woodhouse once described the difference in military parlance between passenger and crew this way: "If you're a passenger and something happens to the airplane I have to make sure you get out first before I do. If you're crew and I say "out", and you say "what?" you'll be talking to yourself."

Nicole was definitely crew because she didn't hesitate for a moment and threw herself through the splintered boards and into the water and I was right behind her.