Chapter 8
Cable had followed the man with the goatee out of the Hall of Mammals, leaving his brothers and Max behind. The man skirted the edge of the big entry hall, keeping to the walkways behind the pillars, There were enough visitors in the museum by now that Cable was able to stay on his trail without drawing attention to himself. When the man reached the wide staircase that led to the upstairs galleries, Cable heard someone calling his name from behind him. He turned to see Quinn hurrying after him.
“Take this,” said Quinn, “it’s Souvlakis ID badge. Max said you might need to get past security.”
Cable took it and headed up the stairs. The man with the goatee had reached the landing where the stairs double back towards the wide mezzanine. Cable let his hair fall in his face in the hopes that the man wouldn’t recognize him. Up on the mezzanine, Cable dodged around other visitors to the museum and watched as the man with the goatee passed the entrances to two upstairs exhibits before coming to the construction entrance to the Gem Exhibit. At that point, the entire mezzanine was blocked by a temporary wall painted dark green. Crisp wording on the wall showed the major sponsors of the renovation and projected that the project would be finished in the early spring. The date given was a full 5 months past. The name of the construction company, Franklin and Rogers, was prominently displayed.
There was no door in the wall, but as Cable neared it, he saw that it didn’t span the entire width of the mezzanine. There was an opening in the wall on the side furthest from the balcony overlooking the elephant hall. The man with the goatee stepped through the opening and disappeared from view. As Cable hurried to follow him, he heard shouting coming from the elephant hall. He glanced over the railing and saw Quinn jumping up and down and pointing at the stuffed elephant. Smiling to himself, he pulled the ID badge out of his pocket and headed through the opening in the wall.
A second wall blocked his way. This one had its opening on the side of the mezzanine near the railing, so that tourists could not see into the work zone. Cable followed the makeshift hallway and was surprised when he turned the corner to find a security checkpoint. Fortunately, the man with the goatee was nowhere to be seen. There was a Smithsonian guard perched on a stool, in conversation with a DC police officer. Both were looking over the balcony rail at the commotion below. Cable held his ID card up, with his finger over the photo, and kept his head down.
“Gotta scan it,” said the Smithsonian guard. There was a card scanner mounted to the table where the guard sat. Cable waved the card over the reader. It beeped and the light flashed green.
“OK,” said the guard.
“Thanks,” said Cable.
As he walked through, Cable heard the Smithsonian guard say to the police officer, “It’s above my pay grade; they’ve made that clear. But ever since they brought the DCPD in to sit with me, I’m beginning to wonder.”
Once past the security checkpoint, Cable turned into the Gem exhibit. Or at least, what there was of it. The floor was covered with drop cloths and though there were spotlight fixtures inset everywhere in the low ceiling, the space was lit with florescent work lights. In the first small room, the display cabinets were made of dark wood, with traditional glass boxes to protect the exhibits. There were two pedestals in the center of the room with fancy curved glass bell jars hanging in place over the displays from silver cables bolted to the ceiling. All the glass was still protected with plastic sheeting and marked with X’s made of masking tape. There were no gems in the cases yet.
“Coming through,” said a carpenter wearing a denim Franklin and Rogers shirt. He wheeled a dolly with a sealed wooden crate between Cable and the wall displays and passed into the next room. Cable followed him. The man with the goatee was nowhere in sight.
The second room was much larger than the first. It had the same drop cloths and plastic sheeting that the entry room did. Three men were working to set a brass handrail in place in one corner. The man with the dolly parked it in an alcove that had been designed to look like a gem-carvers work station, with loupes and a wheel for faceting precious stones. These were the only display pieces in view. Everything else was either an empty case or was draped in cloths. From this room, there were three directions that Cable could go. He knew that the rest of the rooms would connect with each other, so that visitors to the exhibit could walk in a loop and see everything without having to double back on themselves. From where he stood, it looked like one of the rooms was made to look like a bank vault with a thick metal door with eight bolts and combination lock. That room was empty. Cable was about to head into the next room, another large one where semi-precious stones would have been displayed, when he heard loud voices entering the vault room from a hidden door in the wall. He squatted down against the wall and pretended to be adjusting the drop cloth on a display piece, so he could listen.
“I don’t have time for this!” said a voice that Cable recognized as the goatee man. “Talk to your people. I’m not unsympathetic. But I resent the implication.”
“Don’t talk to me about time,” said another voice. Cable could see that the new voice was a tall thin man wearing a dark blue suit. “Time has never been your concern on this project, so don’t start now with telling me you’re pressed for time.”
“What do you want from me?” asked the goatee man. He stood with his back to a large display. It was clearly to be a central display area, perhaps for the treasures of the exhibit.
“You signed for the stones eight weeks ago,” said the man in the suit. He pointed a finger directly and the goatee man. “And now what is this? Drop cloths back over everything? You’re what, rebuilding the quartz display, now? The transfer of stones meant installation of the stones. You knew that.”
“Yes, I knew that,” said the goatee man, “but we can’t install the stones if the display is the wrong size. The measurements you gave us were wrong and we can’t have builders in here with stones in the cases. I can’t believe I’m having this conversation with you again.”
“Nor can I,” said the man in the suit. He pushed back his jacket to put his hand on his hip. He rubbed his forehead with his other hand. He was older than Cable first thought he was.
“So are we done?” asked the goatee man, “can I go back to work now?”
“We’re not done,” said the other man. He waved his arms at the exhibit space, “clearly we are not done. I need something in writing from you. I need the exact times and scans for the stone transfer and I need—“
“For the love of Pete,” said the goatee man, “you’ve got all of that! They’re your scans! It’s your paperwork! Look it up on your own computers!”
The suit man spoke more quietly now. Cable could barely hear. “Just do this for me,” he said.
“You’ve lost something, haven’t you?” said the goatee man with sudden revelation in his voice. It made his tone harder, more aggressive. “The cops at security, the sudden need for paperwork, questioning my guys. And this whatsamagig you’ve been asking about – the stuffed animal guy – this has nothing to do with the construction delays at all, does it?”
“Don’t take that tone with me,” said the man with suit. He pointed his finger at the goatee man again and was about to say something else when his cell phone rang loudly.
“I’m listening,” said the man in the suit. He threw back his jacket again to put his hand on his hip, and looked at the floor while he listened. “What? Right now?” he said. “Do you have him on screen?” He hung up the phone and turned to the goatee man, “Security said that Souvlakis just swiped in.”
“In where?” asked the goatee man.
“In here. Into this hall.”
Both men turned and ran out of the vault, right past Cable, toward the entrance to the exhibit. Cable’s mind raced. He’d swiped Souvlakis’ ID card to get into the construction site. Someone in security must have been monitoring who was checking in and was looking for Souvlakis. Cable looked around. He saw the security camera in the ceiling pointing at him. It hadn’t occurred to him that the cameras would be on. He also saw the man with the goatee and the man with the suit in the first room of the gallery. They had been joined by the DC police officer from the security checkpoint and by another Smithsonian guard.
“I need all my guys out here in the first room,” shouted the goatee man. “Right now. Stop what you’re doing.”
The man with the suit was still on his cell phone, evidently still talking to security in their first floor headquarters, “what do you mean nowhere? A little bald guy. Sixty years old. Usually wears a leather apron. Do you have all the rooms on line?”
Cable’s cell phone rang. He slipped the wireless earpiece in place. It was Jack.
“You’re in hot water,” said Jack, “Quinn and I are down in the security office. I can see the monitors. You don’t have much time.”
“Let’s go!” shouted the goatee man. “Is that everyone? ID badges out!”
“Talk to me,” said Cable, “can I make a run for it?”
“No way,” said Jack, “the big bald guy who came to the store is at the entrance. You’ve got to ditch the ID badge, first of all.”
Cable ducked through the doorway into the vault room. He yanked the badge out and slipped it under the drop cloth near the central display.
“There’s a hidden door in here,” said Cable, “where does it go?”
“How the heck should I know?” said Jack, “go find out. At least it doesn’t lead towards all those guys.”
Cable stood up and dashed through the door. Through his earpiece, he could hear a commotion in the background. He heard Quinn’s voice and some crashes.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“Quinn’s trying to buy you some time by distracting the guards at the monitors,” said Jack. “You’re still on screen, though. Geez, I hope they don’t record these security reels.”
“I’m in a hallway,” said Cable, “It’s pretty bare. Not part of the exhibit. I think it might be some kind of loading area.”
“I really can’t help you,” said Jack, “I said I was in the security office, but I’m not running diagnostics on the floor plan of the museum. Just go!”
Cable ran down the hallway. It was wide and lit by the same florescent work lights. The walls were scuffed and bumped.
“I’ve got to go,” said Jack, “I might be able to turn off that monitor, if the other guard goes after Quinn.”
“Don’t hang up,” said Cable.
But Jack had disconnected the call. The hallway turned and then came to a dead end at a wide cargo elevator. Cable hit the button. The down light went on. Cable turned and looked back towards the exhibit rooms. His heart pounded in his chest. No one was coming after him, but there was a camera pointed directly at him. It seemed a lifetime before the elevator bell sounded and the doors slid open. He practically fell inside and pounded the Close Door button. With a thousand impossible escape ideas and a thousand improbable excuses all colliding in his brain, he peered back down the empty hallway as the elevator doors slid shut.
He tried to call Jack on the phone, but there was no reception in the elevator. He had no idea, as he reached the lower level, what might be awaiting him. He pressed himself up against the wall near the control buttons in the hopes that he would not be visible there when the doors opened.
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