The Omega Factor(75)
“Crystal.”
“And, Nick, don’t make me regret that I even gave you two days.”
He stood under the branches of a spanning tree, just beyond the gas station. “I won’t. And I’m sorry about putting you in a bad spot.”
“Just do your job. Without all the drama.”
He ended the call and had one more to make.
To Kelsey.
She had to be wondering what happened to him. Sister Claire stood off on the other side of the parked car, talking on the phone too. They’d both retreated in opposite directions for privacy.
He punched in Kelsey’s cell phone number.
The phone rang several times.
He allowed it to keep ringing, realizing she was probably sleeping. Finally, a voice answered.
Not Kelsey.
“Who is this?” he asked.
“I am Sister Deal’s prioress, Mr. Lee. I have Kelsey’s mobile phone and the caller identification named you.”
He was concerned. “Is Kelsey all right?”
“She is fine.”
Nothing more was offered. “Where is she?”
“She is safe. Don’t concern yourself.”
But he was concerned.
“I will be destroying this phone when this call is ended. There is no need for you to communicate with Sister Deal any further.”
“Coming from the woman who sold her out.”
“I did what was necessary. Sister Deal understands that. You should too.”
And the call ended.
He’d turned away from the parked car, facing the tree, trying to keep his voice down. When he turned back toward the gas station the Volvo suddenly sprang to life, the engine roaring, lights on.
It sped away.
Sister Claire had abandoned him.
Chapter 48
Kelsey decided the best tack was a cooperative one. These two women needed something from her and she was curious as to what that might be. Besides, she didn’t want to be stuffed back into the trunk so it seemed better to just get along. The two maidens’ attitude had definitely softened and for two hours they rode in relative silence. She had to keep telling herself that these were daughters of Christ. Pledged to a religious order and a life of love and peace. She wasn’t exactly sure what kind of religious order they belonged to but, from all she knew, the Maidens of Saint-Michael were well respected. Still, there was the matter of the Just Judges. Stolen by the maidens. Then the Chapel of the Maiden. Which, according to her prioress, the maidens guarded.
What was that?
A phone buzzed in the front seat and Sister Ellen answered. The conversation was short and, when she ended the call, Ellen turned back to face her. “I’ve been given the okay to further involve your help.” Ellen produced a MacBook Air. “I’m going to set up a personal hot spot through my phone for this computer. We need you to access your images. And before you object, we don’t want you to download them. They are actually not all that important to us any longer. Just access and compare your images of the fifteenth-century original to the copy of the Just Judges finished in 1945. We need to know if there are any differences.”
“Of course there are,” she said. “The copyist added the picture of the then Belgian king Leopold, along with a few other subtle changes. That’s a well-known fact.”
“Of course, we know that. We’re interested in any other changes that you might find that seem significant.”
A strange request, for sure, but one that definitely piqued her artistic curiosity. So she nodded and said she would do it. Ellen worked with her phone a few moments, then the laptop, finally handing it back over the front seats.
“It’s online now. I’m trusting that you will not contact anyone by message or email.”
“I won’t. You’ve spurred my interest, so now I want to find out if there’s anything there.”
She accepted the computer and typed in the web address Nick had provided her. Thank goodness it was easy to remember. She then entered the password they’d both settled upon—the month and date they first met twelve years ago—and gained access into the secure site. She manipulated the touchpad and found a separate image of Jef Van der Veken’s 1945 reproduction of the Just Judges, the one painted above the original, filling the right side of the screen with it and the left with her own image. Amazing how modern technology made that so easy. Years ago the analysis would have required both to be physically stood side by side. It would have then taken days with eyes straining through magnifying glasses to make any meaningful comparison. Now she could complete a survey in minutes, all thanks to ultra-high resolution that missed absolutely nothing.
She studied the original Just Judges panel.
The detail was extraordinary.
The embroidery in the cloaks. The intricate metallic designs in the gold medals wrapping one of the horses’ necks. Skin creases in the faces. Even individual strands of hair in the manes could be seen. The lips, eyes, and noses of all the men were in perfect proportion. Incredibly, a small reflection could even be seen in one of the animal’s eyes.
She’d done a good job in removing six centuries of grime. Thankfully, the overpaint had done little to no damage to the original. It seemed to be all there. She was still baffled by its theft in 1934 and subsequent overpainting in 1945. What was the point? Something told her that the two women in the front seat might have the explanation. Another reason to be a good girl and get along.