Chương 6
Evelyn rubbed two fingers against her forehead.
“Margaret?”
“On video downstairs.”
“He could have given it to someone.”
“He could have.”
“You sound like a detective.”
“I sound like someone whose entire job is being annoying about what evidence actually proves.”
“That is your whole personality.”
“Thank you.”
Evelyn looked down at her ankle.
The swelling had changed from purple to yellow along one side.
“Nathan.”
“Yeah?”
“Did I make it worse by accusing him?”
“For the investigation?”
“For everything.”
He took a moment.
“Yes.”
She shut her eyes.
“Okay.”
“You also may have stopped him from leaving.”
She opened them.
Nathan continued.
“If you had fallen unconscious and no one heard the accusation, Victor might have walked out before anybody treated the cable as evidence.”
“That’s speculation.”
“Yes.”
“You hate speculation.”
“I hate pretending it’s fact.”
She rested her head against the chair.
“What if I’m wrong?”
Nathan did not answer immediately.
Outside, a truck reversed somewhere in the street, making three flat electronic beeps.
Finally he said, “Then we find out.”
“And if I’m right?”
“Same answer.”
The independent engineering report on Arc Array came back one week later.
The sculpture was not materially original as represented in the loan documents.
The central yoke, two bearings, three fasteners, an internal brake plate, and one structural arm had been manufactured within the previous five years.
The report did not call the work counterfeit.
That was outside its scope.
It did something more dangerous to Victor.
It established that major replacement work had occurred and had not been disclosed to the museum.
Evelyn read the findings in Margaret’s office with her injured ankle resting awkwardly beneath the chair.
Nathan sat beside the wall with his sling off for the first time. He could move his shoulder again, though not far.
Margaret remained behind her desk.
No one spoke for almost a minute.
Then Evelyn said, “Who did the restoration?”
“We don’t know yet.”
“Victor knows.”
“Yes.”
“Has he provided records?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“His attorney says they are reviewing archival files.”
Evelyn laughed.
Margaret’s expression tightened.
“I don’t find it funny either.”
“Then why are you still calling them archival files?”
“What would you prefer?”
“Evidence.”
Nathan looked down to hide a reaction.
Margaret noticed anyway.
“Please don’t encourage her.”
“I’m sitting quietly.”
“You have a very loud quiet face.”
For half a second the room almost felt normal.
Then Evelyn looked at the report again.
“Did the board know?”
“No.”
“The insurer?”
“Not that we can determine.”
“The lender?”
Margaret’s eyes shifted.
There.
Evelyn sat straighter.
“What?”
Margaret folded her hands.
“Victor’s attorneys notified us this morning that Arc Array is subject to a secured loan.”
“How much?”
“They did not disclose the balance.”
“Who is the lender?”
“They asked us not to circulate that.”
Evelyn stared.
Margaret sighed.
“It’s North Bridge Private Bank.”
Nathan whistled softly.
Evelyn looked at him.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You made a sound.”
“It’s a rich-people bank.”
Margaret looked offended on behalf of accurate terminology.
“It is a private wealth institution.”
Nathan nodded.
“A rich-people bank.”
Evelyn almost smiled.
Then the practical meaning arrived.
“If the sculpture isn’t what Victor represented, his collateral is compromised.”
“Yes,” Margaret said.
“How compromised?”
“I don’t know.”
“Enough to give him a reason to panic?”
Margaret did not answer.
Nathan did.
“Yes.”
Margaret looked at him.
“You cannot say that.”
“I just did.”
“You cannot state motive as fact.”
“I stated a reason to panic.”
Evelyn leaned back.
Her ankle throbbed.
“Did Victor know we were going to test the yoke?”
Margaret’s silence returned.
Evelyn’s eyes narrowed.
“Margaret.”
“He knew you had requested outside review.”
“When?”
“The day before the gala.”
Nathan looked toward the director.
“You told him that too?”
“I told you that.”
“You told me about the mark and mounting plate.”
“I also told him she wanted independent testing.”
Evelyn stared at her.
Something inside her changed.
Not dramatically.
It was quieter than anger.
“Why?”
Margaret rubbed one hand over the other.
“Because I was trying to keep him cooperative.”
“You warned him.”
“I informed a lender-facing owner that a major concern had been raised.”
“You warned him.”
“I was trying to obtain records before we created a public crisis.”
Evelyn looked down at the report.
When she spoke again, her voice was lower.
“The first time I told you there might be a serious problem, you protected the museum.”
Margaret flinched.
“The second time, you protected Victor.”
“That is not what I believed I was doing.”
“No. I think that’s the problem.”
Nathan shifted.
Margaret stood.
“You think I don’t understand what happened to you?”
“I think you understand it now.”
“That is unfair.”
“I almost died.”
“I know.”
“No.” Evelyn’s voice rose, then she stopped herself. “No, you know that sentence. You don’t know what it feels like to wake up and realize millions of people watched you fall.”
Margaret said nothing.
Evelyn pushed herself up with both hands.
Nathan moved instinctively.
She shot him a look.
He stopped.
That irritated her too.
“I can stand.”
“I know.”
“Then stop doing that.”
Nathan sat back.
Margaret came around the desk.
“Evelyn, I am sorry.”
The words should have helped.
They did not.
“For what?”
Margaret opened her mouth.
Nothing came.
Evelyn nodded.
“Exactly.”
She left.
Nathan remained.
Margaret looked at him.
“Go with her.”
“She told me not to.”
“Since when do you listen?”
“Since she fell off a bridge and half the world decided she needed rescuing.”
Margaret sat down again.
Nathan waited a moment.
Then he said, “You should answer the question.”
“What question?”
“What are you sorry for?”
Margaret stared at the report.
“For wanting forty-eight more hours.”
Nathan nodded.
“That’s a start.”
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The fabrication shop was found because Evelyn recognized a weld.
Three weeks later, she was reviewing high-resolution photographs from Arc Array at her dining table. She had been officially removed from the museum investigation to avoid accusations of contamination or bias, a decision she hated and privately agreed with.
