The Omega Factor(21)
But had he worked alone?
Speculation ran rampant, many believing that Goedertier had to have had inside help. Eventually, the whole cathedral was searched and even x-rayed to a height of ten feet. The war memorial at Melle, erected in 1934, was broken into on the theory that it might have been the hiding place. But nothing was ever found and the theft remained an unsolved mystery.
The missing twelfth panel was replaced in 1945 by a copy painted by a Belgian named Jef Van der Veken. The copy was based on another copy that had been painted in the mid-sixteenth century for Philip II of Spain, kept at the Royal Museums of Fine Arts of Belgium. To blend his copy, painted on a two-hundred-year-old cupboard shelf, Van der Veken applied a layer of wax that generated a similar aged patina. Kelsey had been working to remove that layer of wax when she made a remarkable discovery. Beneath the reproduction was another painting.
The original Just Judges.
All of the panels had been created the same. A hard, ivory-colored layer, an emulsion of chalk powder and glue, had been first applied to the wood. Next came an underdrawing, outlines made of figures. Then thin layers of paint were applied one atop the other. Each layer allowed for different hues of light to pass through, reflecting off one another, creating a luminosity of color. Most experts thought Hubert van Eyck completed the underdrawing, with Jan painting atop what his brother created. Van der Veken had simply painted over the van Eycks’ original, and his “copy” had stood inside Saint Bavo’s since 1945, taking its place with the original eleven other panels resting, as the thief had proclaimed, “in a place where neither I, nor anybody else, can take it away without arousing the attention of the public.”
But how had that happened?
Impossible to say. Especially considering everyone associated with the theft and its aftermath was dead.
And why destroy it now?
An even better question.
She’d first reported the find to the cathedral’s curator, then to her prioress, and finally to Monsieur de Foix. All of them had urged that nothing be said until her removal of the overpaint had been completed. Thankfully, the panel was small and she was working alone in a workshop blocks away from the cathedral, an easy measure to ensure total privacy. The fact that the panel was a reproduction, of little to no artistic value, there simply for completeness of the work, made secrecy that much easier. No one cared about the twelfth panel. Except some woman who set it on fire.
Prior to tonight Kelsey had removed nearly all of the wax and overpaint, revealing the original fifteenth-century Just Judges in all its glory, her eyes the first to see it in a long time.
“Do not fret over this,” de Foix said to her through the phone, bringing her thoughts back to reality. “As I said before, no one holds you responsible. But Sister Deal, I must ask. Your records, were they destroyed in the fire?”
She knew what he meant. She’d carefully recorded high-resolution digital images of the panel from every angle after the overpaint removal. Similar to what had been done with the other eleven in years past. Those images were publicly available on the internet on a site known as Closer to Van Eyck for anyone to study. She’d hoped hers would join that cache. She noticed how Monsieur de Foix had phrased his question cleverly, careful not to reveal anything about the original’s resurrection, a fact that only four people in the world should know. So she chose her words carefully too.
“The arsonist stole my laptop with the images,” she said.
“They were not backed up?”
“I was told to adhere to strict security, with no copies. But someone is pursuing the laptop, as we speak.”
Someone who was once, and still is to some degree, most special.
“Let’s hope that effort is successful.”
She agreed.
Chapter 12
Nick kept moving.
No one had followed him. He was north of central downtown, among dense clusters of residences and commercial establishments. Of course, if the maidens did decide to take to the streets in pursuit he’d be a bit of a standout toting a laptop. So he decided to get as far away as he could.
Fast.
His mind tumbled around a mixture of anger, relief, disbelief, and exhilaration. The young woman who’d confronted him inside the convent had handled herself with skill. Two more members of the same convent had engaged in arson and theft, one probably dying in the process. None of them were anything like the nuns he remembered from childhood. Most of those had been older women who spread terror through classrooms. He hadn’t been born Catholic. His parents were a religious mix. One Methodist, the other Presbyterian. Neither was devout. Sundays in their house were off days. Fun times. Church not on the schedule. He’d attended parochial school, as his parents had insisted that the education there was superior to the local public system. Nuns had been scarce, only accounting for a few of the teaching positions. But they’d been tough. No nonsense. All business. Caring, though. He still recalled Sister Regina. Soft-spoken. Patient. He’d struggled with math in the sixth grade, but she’d helped him through.
Parochial schools in the 1990s were different from a generation before. They’d needed students and revenue, so rules were adjusted and more non-Catholics were granted entry. Being an outsider he hadn’t been required to take catechism, attend mass, or be part of the altar boy service. Which was good since, for him, as a Protestant, it was a church service not mass. No one showered him with money after a first Holy Communion. No confession of sins every Saturday afternoon. Then there was the ash on the forehead every spring, near Easter. He and a few others in his class were the only ones not marked. Maybe all that pomp and ceremony had shoved him away from religion. Hard to say. But meeting Kelsey certainly caused a reassessment. Never, though, had she forced him to make choices that he might have found uncomfortable. She had faith. But she always recognized that it was her personal choice and everyone had to decide for themselves what to believe. Religion had never been a divisive element between them.