Chapter 5
T wo days later, Blue and Jane were headed to Philadelphia. Coincidentally it was Blue’s hometown, but he didn’t say as much to Jane. In fact, they had been in the car for an hour and neither had spoken a word.
Jane stared out the passenger window, probably making an escape plan in case he touched her. Every once in a while Blue glanced at her to see if she had moved, but she hadn’t. She was like a statue. Grudgingly, Blue admitted Maggie was right; she was cute. Her features were incredibly fine and delicate. If she had a different personality, he might have said she looked like an elf or fairy. As it was she was more like a china doll—cold and untouchable.
“Thank you for driving,” she said so quietly he almost didn’t hear.
“You’re welcome.”
“Is this your car?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said, bracing his hands on the wheel for the inevitable follow up question: How does a government employee afford a Jaguar? “I sold an app,” he blurted when she failed to ask. “It’s not enough to live on for life, but it was enough to buy an apartment and car and stash some away for retirement, kids college, that sort of thing.”
“You have kids?” she asked.
“No, but it’s never too early to plan, or so they say.”
She nodded and resumed staring out the window.
“What was the app?” she asked forty minutes later.
Blue darted her a smile. “Were you thinking of that all this time?”
She smiled in return and tapped her temple. “The introvert brain is slow to process.”
“It’s called Threeple. You know that game Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon? It’s like that. You put in any person and it tells you how many degrees you are away from them based on common friends on social media and known shared ancestors.”
“You made Threeple? That’s my favorite app,” she said.
“Really?” he asked, his glance darting to her again.
“It saved me from marrying my cousin.”
He blinked at her. “You’re joking.” It was hard to tell because her tone and expression were deadpan.
She nodded. “Congratulations, though. That’s amazing. I barely even know how to use apps.” She held her flip phone aloft for his inspection.
From an early age, he had lived all of his life online. He had never personally met anyone who didn’t have a smart phone or social media account. “Do you have a driver’s license?” The fact that she was completely off the radar unnerved him. It was one more way in which he had no idea how to relate to her.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I’ve never lived anywhere I felt I needed one,” she said.
They lapsed into silence again. Blue rested his hand on the console, not realizing her hand was already there. She jumped at the contact and withdrew her hand.
Blue put his hand back on the wheel, gripping it tightly. “You know, tattoos aren’t contagious.”
“No, I, it’s not, I…”
“Forget it. We’re here.”
Blue parked. They made their way through the museum’s security until at last they landed in the presence of the man they’d come to see, in what Blue presumed to be his lab. The man turned to survey them, and Blue took stock. He was young and professional looking with unruly brown hair and ubiquitously geeky glasses. He straightened and offered his hand to Jane without a smile.
“Dr. Dunbar.”
Jane returned the formal shake. “Dr. Stevens.”
Blue refrained from rolling his eyes. They were as cold and stiff as he’d imagined they’d be. This visit was going to be a laugh riot, but at least seeing her with a friend had done nothing to dispel his uptight image of her. And then Dr. Stevens used the hand he still held to yank Jane hard against his chest.
“Give us a kiss, Jane.”
“Absolutely,” Jane replied. She stood on her toes, but instead of reaching for his lips ducked out of his grasp, hopped on his back, and kissed his cheek.
He laughed. “Get off, you little monkey.”
Jane slid down. “Speaking of monkeys, where’s yours?”
Dr. Stevens handed her a bowl of fruit. “You know what to do.”
Jane picked up the fruit and shook it. “Kiko, treats.”
A monkey appeared as if from nowhere, perched on her shoulder, and reached for the fruit. “You have to pay the toll,” she said, holding the fruit out of reach. She extended her lips, the monkey kissed them, and she gave him the fruit.
“Sure, the monkey you kiss on the lips,” Dr. Stevens said.
“So, you have a monkey,” Blue said, the first time he’d spoken since they arrived.
“It’s good PR for the museum. Jane used to have a monkey, too, didn’t she tell you?”
Blue shook his head, eyeing the monkey warily. They were in a lab, after all. Had no one besides him watched Outbreak ? He held out his hand to the doctor. “Blue Bishop.”
“Charles Stevens. Sorry, I got so caught up with delight at seeing Jane again I lost track of the introductions.”
“You were telling me about Jane’s monkey. Was this recently?” Exactly how weird was she?
“No, she was, what, nine?”
“Eight,” Jane corrected.
“You guys go back a ways,” Blue said. And yet the man still seemed to like her. Strange.
“Our families were in Africa for a while together,” Jane said.
“How is the family?” Charles asked.
“Well, thanks.”
“Is your dad still…?”
“Yes,” Jane said, hasty to cut off whatever he was about to say.
“It’s good to see you, Jane. It’s been too long,” Charles said warmly. To Blue he added, “Did she tell you we skinny dipped together?”
“Still when I was eight. And you were eleven, you corrupting perv.”
“Your sister dragged me into it,” Charles replied.
“That sounds about right,” Jane said, smiling. The monkey grabbed another grape and skittered away. “Right, I guess we should get down to business.”
“What’s this all about? Your message was so cryptic,” Charles said.
Blue tensed. Ridge had warned Jane not to reveal anything about their case, to say as little as possible. How would she handle deception?
She rolled her eyes. “You know how it is. We heard a whisper of forgery at the Smithsonian and Harrison went into paranoia overdrive. He has a cicada on order from Morocco, and it’s making him antsy. He wanted me to check your new purchase to make sure it’s legit.”
“Harrison. So paranoid,” Charles agreed, and they shared a smile.
“Thanks so much for fitting me in on such short notice.”
“What are ex-boyfriends for?” he asked.
“One date does not a boyfriend make,” she said. “Add that to the fact that you never called me again, and I think anything outside the realm of friendship between us is dead and buried.”
“But the past has a way of coming back to life. If it didn’t, our jobs would be meaningless,” Charles said.
“The artifact,” Jane said, redirecting.
“Right, yes. Let me retrieve it. I’ll be right back.” He walked out of the room leaving Blue and Jane in awkward silence.
“Sorry if we seem incredibly non-professional to you. As you said, we go back a long way,” Jane said.
“It’s fine,” Blue said. What he wanted to say was that it humanized her. For the first time since he met her, he was picturing her as something other than a puritanical scold.
“This is going to take a while. You could go and come back, if you like,” she said.
He would like that very much, but Ridge, anticipating that Blue would want to make a break for it, had forewarned him. Stick to her like glue. Closer, even, like duct tape. She doesn’t leave your sight. Don’t ditch her, not even if she tells you to. The instruction had been…strange. They were at the beginning of their investigation, not in a hot zone. If not for his serious expression, Blue might have thought Ridge was pulling his leg to torture him.
“I’ll be fine,” Blue said, withdrawing his laptop from his messenger bag.
“Oh, I used to know the wifi password here. Let me see if I can remember,” she said.
He smiled. “I’m good, thanks.”
“Oh, that’s right. Computers are kind of your thing.”
“Me hacker, you Jane,” he said before he could stop himself.
“Wow. People have said that line to me an untold amount over the years, but none quite so odd as that one.”
He smiled a little. “I do what I can.”
She smiled in return and then Charles was back with a giant box on a wheeled cart. Jane’s face lit, at the sight of the box, not the man. The two were soon lost in examining the thing in the box.
“Would you like to see?” Jane asked Blue, catching him by surprise.
“Um, sure,” he said, standing to cross the room. “What am I looking at?”
“It’s an alabaster canopic jar,” Jane said.
“And that is…”
“During the mummification process, the internal organs were placed in these containers in order to preserve them for the afterlife.”
“How old is it? Assuming it’s real, I mean,” Blue said.
“This one appears to be from the Eleventh Dynasty, approximately 2000 years BC. You see how the lid is plain? In later times they were carved to look like humans and then four gods.”
“Four thousand years old?” Blue stuttered.
“Yes,” Jane said. She had dedicated her life to artifacts, and yet she never lost her awe. She was touching something that ancient Egyptians might have touched. The sensation always left her a bit woozy. “If this is a forgery, it’s spectacular.”
“Can you carbon date it?” Blue asked. They looked at him as if he’d just asked to be tickled by caterpillars.
“It’s stone,” Jane said.
“Please don’t make me admit I have no idea the significance of that,” Blue said.
“You can’t carbon date stone, only things that were once alive. But that brings up an interesting point—a forger would definitely know that and choose stone for that purpose,” Jane said. She returned her attention full time to examining the jar, and Blue knew he was dismissed. He returned to his comfort zone, the virtual world.
Many, many hours later, after a scanty lunch of rabbit food, Jane was finished. She removed her gloves and set them aside.
“Charles, I believe it’s a fake,” she said quietly, sadly.
“No,” Charles said, his knees almost giving way.
To Blue it was merely a jar, but he could guess the implications went much deeper for a couple of museum geeks whose livelihood depended on authenticity. “Why do you think so?” Charles asked.
Jane reached for a laptop and turned it to face him. “Here, this spot from the electron microscope. It captured a brush stroke.” Blue came to stand over her shoulder. After so many hours, it was kind of exciting to hear the result.
“Where?” he asked. He saw nothing out of the ordinary in the ultra-magnified picture.
“Here.” She picked up a pen and touched the tip to the screen. He hunched closer, squinting. Doing so brought him in direct contact with her body. She did the jumping and flinching thing, and he bit down on his frustration.
“Hmm,” he said, easing away from her. Even here, in her comfort zone, she couldn’t warm up to him.
“Also there’s the lid. The fit it’s…not right.”
“I have to admit that caused me a bit of concern, too, but I so badly wanted this to be legit,” Charles said. He scrubbed his hand over his face looking sad and defeated.
“I’m sorry,” Jane said, resting her hand on his arm.
He pulled her close and hugged her. “I know, it stinks for all of us.”
Blue watched her to see how she’d react to him, but she was all-in on the hug, wrapping her arms around him and pressing her ear to his heart. Charles Stevens had no tattoos, of course. “It was an amazing forgery, possibly the best I’ve ever seen,” she whispered. “I know it’s bad timing, but do you think you can get me in to New York? I don’t have a connection there.”
“I’ll make some calls and let you know,” he promised. He kissed the top of her head. “Thanks for trying to let me down easy.”
“I wish I had better news,” she said. She gave him a final squeeze and stepped out of his embrace.