AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Master filmed me with his special guest. The picture is black and white. The sound is a little hollow. But the images are crisp and clear, every detail captured.
Master taught his brothers. Master showed Jonas and Ansel how to harness video to make a billion dollars.
“How many other movies did Master make?” I ask.
Ursula looks confused. “All.”
I try again, digging out my few words in German. “Ein? Zehn? Wie viele…movies?”
“All,” Ursula says again. Her fingers slip over the trackpad, and she brings up the list of files on the computer. They’re all MP4 files, all “movies”. The dates range over the past three years. There are at least two dozen.
I move the cursor to a file at random. “Okay?” I ask Ursula.
“You watch,” she says proudly, like she’s presenting me with a golden crown.
I click the file, and the screen fills with moving pictures.
38
TRAP
* * *
“Trap?” From the tone in Susan Richards’ voice, she’s already said my name a few times. I look up from the black-and-white display on my computer screen. My eyes feel like I’ve dragged them over a coral reef. I blink a few times, which doesn’t help.
“What do you need?” My question is sharper than necessary, but it’s too late to take it back.
“You have a Chamber of Commerce meeting in Wilmington at three,” she says.
It’s 2:30 now. I should have left half an hour ago.
Fuck it. “Tell them an emergency came up. I’ll see them next month.”
Her lips purse. She doesn’t like to lie. But she knows better than to call me on it.
“Anything else?” I ask, which is a dick move, because there are about ten thousand other things I’m supposed to be doing, and I’m late on at least half of them, but none of that is Susan’s fault.
Before she can answer, I’m staring at the computer screen again. I’ve hired an outfit that does drone surveillance. Some asshole’s got a life marginally worse than mine, sitting in a dark room somewhere, managing eyes in the sky over Herzog’s house in the woods.
The feed comes in 24/7. So far, no one has entered the house. No one has left. Twice, cars have been let through the gate, and I’ve watched that creepy German woman carry groceries up the steps.
I haven’t seen Alix. Not a fucking glimpse.
“Let me know if you need anything,” Susan says, before she backs out of my office.
I need someone to take point on Herzog’s painting,The Concert. Are we giving it back to the Gardner? Taking the reward? Opening the floodgates for speculation about other stolen goods at the freeport?
Alix would know about past thefts. She’d compile a list of middlemen. She’d balance what’s best for the museum, for the world of art lovers, and for the freeport’s long-term health.
But Alix isn’t here.
I also need someone to figure out what the fuck is wrong with the maintenance staff. Two supervisors have quit in the last three months, and there isn’t a janitor who’s worked here for longer than a year.
Alix would interview the current employees. She’d use her fancy psychology terms to figure out their motivations and evaluate their job satisfaction. She’d come up with charts and bullet points and presentations, and she’d stem the tide of constant turnover.
But Alix isn’t here.
I need someone to talk to. Someone to shoot the shit with at the end of a long workday. Someone I can touch without the Beast going apeshit inside my skull.
