Chapter 21
Shortly before the appointed hour, the Bonney Boys sat at a picnic table beneath a towering Alexander Calder mobile outside the Smithsonian Castle. The remains of their fast food lunch were stuffed back into the bag. Jack had both Souvlakis notes unfolded in front of him.
“Put yourself in his position,” said Cable “frustrated with your work, squeezed by some crooks, tempted by wealth. Wouldn’t it occur to you to help yourself to something small and disappear?”
“By something small, do you mean a gem from the museum where you’ve worked your whole career?” asked Quinn.”
“Maybe,” said Cable. “Haven’t you ever dreamed of packing a backpack and hopping a freight train, to see the world?”
“I’ve been tempted to skip calculus class,” said Quinn.
“Come on,” said Cable, “think about it.”
“Sure,” said Quinn, “but that doesn’t mean I’d empty out the register at the bookstore in order to do it, or pawn mom’s wedding ring.”
“Alright, but what if you knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that no one would notice? Or what if you just couldn’t see any other way?”
“Those sound like two different situations,” said Quinn. “If I thought no one would notice if I disappeared, I’d probably concentrate on making better friends, first of all—“
“Or would you leave your friends a note telling them where you’ve gone?” asked Jack, holding up the note they’d gotten from Otis.
“Even if I did,” said Quinn, “I wouldn’t put it in code. And I wouldn’t abandon all my stuff.”
Jack’s cell phone rang. He flipped it open, “Hey Chad, what’s up?”
“Where are you guys?” asked Chad.
“On the Mall,” said Jack. “What’s up?”
“I’ve been thinking about who’s going to play me in the movie version of this adventure. I was thinking Robert Downey Jr., circa Iron Man 2.”
Jack put a hand over the phone and told his brothers.
“Tell him Ben Kingsley,” said Cable.
“I heard that,” said Chad, “tell Barney the Dinosaur that I’ve got that Frodo Baggins kid playing him.”
“Did you need something, Chad?” asked Jack.
“I’m at the bookstore,” he said, “I thought you guys might need help cleaning up. Evidently not a high priority for you, though.”
“Thanks,” said Jack, “we’ve actually got a meeting with some lawyer up here, with Mr. Glover.”
“You mind if I let myself in and straighten the place up?”
“That would be great, thanks,” said Jack, “but don’t reshelve the books stacked on the steps. Those are what’s left of the books we got from Souvlakis. – I gotta go Chad, I’m getting another call from Mr. Glover—“
Jack hit the call waiting button and switched calls. “Hello?... yes we’re here…OK, we’ll be right there.”
He hung up. “We’ve got to meet him around at the other entrance,” said Jack, “he’s there waiting for us. Let’s scoot.”
The Boys and Mr. Glover followed small signs up the stairs and down a long hallway until they found the room they needed, labeled Council’s Office. Mr. Glover paused with his hand on the doorknob and said, “As much as possible, let me do the talking. And Cable, Jack, no theories, no adventures. No adjectives at all. Understand.”
“Yes sir,” they nodded.
“And just you because you didn’t give Janice the folder with our agreement in it doesn’t mean I’m not representing you,” said Mr. Glover, “although I suppose I could still turn around, if you want to do this without me.”
“No,” said Jack, “we want you here.”
“Good,” he said, “Here we go.”
He pushed open the door.
A young man in a suit showed them into a conference room where they were asked to wait. Mr. Glover put his briefcase on the table and took out a clean legal pad. He also took out something that looked like a fancy fountain pen in a shiny black case. He twisted its top and it clicked, but he didn’t take the top off. In a few minutes, the door opened and four men came into the room. Cable recognized one of them as the man with the suit that he’d seen arguing with Franklin in the gem exhibit. One of the others was a Smithsonian security guard who they’d never seen before. Another, a gray haired man with pink hands, wore a dark blue suit. The last man in the room had on a shirt and tie, but casual khaki pants. He was the youngest of the four and carried a can of Dr. Pepper, whereas the men in suits all carried leather portfolios.
When everyone was seated, except for the man with the Dr. Pepper, the old gray haired man introduced himself as Sidney Newman, a lawyer for the Smithsonian Institution. He introduced the others as well. Bernard Meyers, the Head of Physical Projects and Acting Supervisor of Restorations. The boys knew all about him from Souvlakis journal. The security officer was a Mr. Davis. The man with the Dr. Pepper was Detective Deffenbaugh from the D.C. Police Department.
“I’m sure you won’t mind if we record this meeting,” said Mr. Newman. He pushed a button built into the side of the conference table and a red light went on over the door.
Mr. Glover introduced himself and the boys.
He continued, “we have an unusual situation before us today, gentlemen. My clients have come to me voluntarily and made the decision to contact you. Again, voluntarily. They are employed by a used and rare bookstore and in the normal course of their business there, they often have occasion to buy books directly from the houses or estates of collectors. Three days ago they visited the home of Mr. Souvlakis, whom I believe you all know.”
“With a real estate agent,” Jack interjected.
Mr. Glover held up a finger and looked at Jack until he leaned back in his chair again.
“They were informed by the real estate agent that Mr. Souvlakis had violated the terms of his lease and the owners and their agents had laid claim to the personal property still on the premises. My clients were brought in as experts in the book trade to purchase some or all of the books, with the money they paid going to defray the lost rent.
“In examining the books, it became clear to my clients that Mr. Souvlakis was a professional his field, that his books were very specialized and some of them quite valuable. Also, my clients expressed concern about the circumstances of the eviction. However, rather than go into that with the agent—“
“We buy books from people’s houses all the time,” blurted out Jack, “people don’t just leave books like that behind them.”
“Jack, please,” said Mr. Glover.
“Sorry,” said Jack.
“As I was saying,” continued Mr. Glover, “rather than take it up with the agent, they took the books and brought the collection back to the store. Then, out of concern for the owner of the books, they decided to see if they could find him and offer the books back to him. Luckily, they did find work-related papers including an ID badge, which is what led them up here.
“They called the personnel department, but were not given any information there. They called a friend who is an intern here, but again they were not able to find Mr. Souvlakis. They decided to physically come to his place of work to make an earnest effort to contact him.”
“This is all very interesting,,” said Mr. Newman, but it doesn’t have anything to do with this.” He patted his thick leather portfolio.
“May I ask what that is?” asked Mr. Glover.
“This,” said Mr. Newman, opening the cover, “is what you have not mentioned yet.” He pulled out several eight by ten photos taken from the security cameras in the Smithsonian and fanned them out. Several showed Quinn and Jack making a commotion in front of the elephant in the main hallway. Another showed Cable passing through security to enter the gem hall renovation area. There was another photo showing Jack standing on a bench on the Mammal Hall. It wasn’t clear what he was doing, except that he was reaching behind the armadillo pedestal.
“Or this,” continued Mr. Newman. He opened another file and laid out several more photos showing the polar bear covered in purple paint, along with the footprints and stained paper towels that had been left on the floor.
“Or this,” he concluded. He took out a last envelope and unclasped the metal clips. It was more photographs. Glossy color photographs showing jewels. Spectacular rubies and emeralds and entire necklaces sparkling with diamonds. They were professionally taken photographs, with white borders and information on the back. The boys couldn’t see all of them but it was clear that these must be the centerpieces of the National Gem Collection.
“We’d like to hear what you have to say about these,” said Mr. Newman, “if you don’t mind.”
Mr. Glover glanced at the photographs. He looked at the men across the table form him. Detective Deffenbaugh was looking out the window towards the Mall. The others were glaring significantly back at him.
“Is this an accusation?” asked Mr. Glover.
“No,” said Mr. Newman, “this is the informal conversation you requested. The Detective is here in case we need to elevate it to an accusation.”
“I’d like say, first of all,” said Mr. Glover, looking up at the red light above the door, “that for the record, you’ve put photographs of some jewelry, some photographs of my clients in one of the public areas of the museum, and some photographs of a bear of some sort on the table. Secondly, I’d like a copy of this recording sent to me at my office. And C, I think this meeting is over.”
“Oh no it ain’t,” said the security guard, Mr. Davis, standing.
“Jerome, sit down,” said Mr. Newman. “And I’m sorry Mr. Glover, but these recordings are for internal use only.”
“I understand,” nodded Mr. Glover. He picked up the shiny black pen from beside his legal pad. “That’s why I always bring my own recorder. Was there anything else you wanted to say, Mr. Newman, before we leave you?”
Mr. Newman eyed the voice recorder in Mr. Glover’s hand. Then he pushed the button on the side of the table and the red light over the door flashed off. “Mr. Glover,” he said, “we’re both professionals. May I speak off the record?”
Mr. Glover twisted the top of his recorder and put it down on the table.
“Go ahead,” he said.
“None of us think those boys have succeeded in breaching our security and made off with the gems. My question to you is, can you defend them when we go public with this? They will go straight to jail, from this office. And we will prosecute fully. All we want from you is information how to get Souvlakis. We know they know something. Whether they’re operating on his behalf or if they’ve just been roped into this because he saw that he had a patsy he could manipulate, I don’t know and frankly don’t care. We’ve got enough evidence here, indisputable evidence, to make your lives miserable for a long long while. Why take the fall for someone you say you don’t even know?”
Mr. Glover took in what he said. Then he looked at all four of the men again. He stood up. “Gentlemen,” he said, “thank you for your time.”
He put his legal pad in his briefcase, while the boys stood up, uncertainly.
“Boys,” said Mr. Newman directly to them, “you’ve picked the wrong day to play hardball with us. Detective, arrest them!”
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