school on Virginia Island. I didn't think he was even aware I was standing there. But he froze the scene, depicting Robin sharing cookies with a couple of the kids. “What do you think?” he asked, without looking up.
“About what?”
“Uriel,” he said. “What do you suppose he meant when he said he'd be able to talk about a breakthrough after Uriel?”
SIX
The secret of a truly successful career in almost any field is the ability to control what people think. In other words, pure public relations. It is the difference between talent and greatness.
—Henry Taylor, The Statesman , 6712 C.E.
While we watched interest build in the Robin artifacts, we got involved in the search for Korman Eddy's Clockwork, which had vanished from a train in the middle of the last century. The sculptor, then at the beginning of his illustrious career, had achieved celebrity status but hadn't yet reached the superstardom that awaited him. He famously took the sculpture aboard an Andiquar local and somehow—nobody had ever understood how it could have happened—left it on the seat when he got off at Mill Harbor. “A beautiful young lady had come aboard,” he'd explained, “and I'm easily distracted.”
Clockwork was an abstract depiction, according to the experts, of the inevitable passage of time, and its effect on the psyche. It was a collection of springs, clock hands, pinions, Roman numerals, wheels, electric dials, and pendulums. It wasn't a large piece, but Eddy had needed two seats to transport it. It had been inside a transparent wrapping. He sat on the opposite side of the aisle.
Eddy apparently realized his oversight after leaving the train. He was in a cab on his way to the Vancouver Center, where it was to be unveiled. Horrified, he immediately called the train. A quick search ensued, but the sculpture could not be found. Passengers reported seeing a woman struggling with it, carrying it toward the back of the car on which Eddy had been riding. That had been several minutes after the train had left the station. Police were waiting at Cuirescu, the next stop. But they could find no sign of the missing artwork or the woman the other passengers had seen. An inspection of the forty-three-mile-long track between the two stations turned up the wrapping but nothing else.
Eddy was heartbroken. Prior to arriving at Mill Harbor, he'd shown it to no one. “It was to be a special moment for the Vancouver Center, and for me,” he said in the aftermath of the event.
It had happened in 1341, ninety-three years earlier. We got interested when Eddy's Varesque became available, and some of our clients began commenting what a shame it was that nobody had ever found the Clockwork sculpture, and how much they'd give to get their hands on it.
So we went through the documents, read the media accounts, talked to two of the witnesses and several of the avatars. We visited the two train stations, which had changed considerably over the years, although their layouts were basically the same. We satisfied ourselves that, with the distribution of people reportedly on the platform at Cuirescu, no one could have gotten off the train carrying the sculpture without being seen.
I thought the conductor was involved. “He has to be,” I said. “The woman, whoever she was, needed help. A place to hide, both the sculpture and herself.”
“It's not difficult to search a train,” Alex said. “Not when you're looking for something that big. No, I don't think that's what happened.”
“So what did happen, Sherlock?”
He grinned. I've often wondered where that term came from. But I've never been able to find an origin. “Well,” he said, “I wonder why the thief discarded the wrapper?”
I shrugged. “Don't know.”
“I can see only one way it might have been done. I can't prove it, of course, but when you eliminate the impossible—”
“I'm listening.”
He enjoys moments like this. “It's unlikely that the woman could have hidden
“About what?”
“Uriel,” he said. “What do you suppose he meant when he said he'd be able to talk about a breakthrough after Uriel?”
SIX
The secret of a truly successful career in almost any field is the ability to control what people think. In other words, pure public relations. It is the difference between talent and greatness.
—Henry Taylor, The Statesman , 6712 C.E.
While we watched interest build in the Robin artifacts, we got involved in the search for Korman Eddy's Clockwork, which had vanished from a train in the middle of the last century. The sculptor, then at the beginning of his illustrious career, had achieved celebrity status but hadn't yet reached the superstardom that awaited him. He famously took the sculpture aboard an Andiquar local and somehow—nobody had ever understood how it could have happened—left it on the seat when he got off at Mill Harbor. “A beautiful young lady had come aboard,” he'd explained, “and I'm easily distracted.”
Clockwork was an abstract depiction, according to the experts, of the inevitable passage of time, and its effect on the psyche. It was a collection of springs, clock hands, pinions, Roman numerals, wheels, electric dials, and pendulums. It wasn't a large piece, but Eddy had needed two seats to transport it. It had been inside a transparent wrapping. He sat on the opposite side of the aisle.
Eddy apparently realized his oversight after leaving the train. He was in a cab on his way to the Vancouver Center, where it was to be unveiled. Horrified, he immediately called the train. A quick search ensued, but the sculpture could not be found. Passengers reported seeing a woman struggling with it, carrying it toward the back of the car on which Eddy had been riding. That had been several minutes after the train had left the station. Police were waiting at Cuirescu, the next stop. But they could find no sign of the missing artwork or the woman the other passengers had seen. An inspection of the forty-three-mile-long track between the two stations turned up the wrapping but nothing else.
Eddy was heartbroken. Prior to arriving at Mill Harbor, he'd shown it to no one. “It was to be a special moment for the Vancouver Center, and for me,” he said in the aftermath of the event.
It had happened in 1341, ninety-three years earlier. We got interested when Eddy's Varesque became available, and some of our clients began commenting what a shame it was that nobody had ever found the Clockwork sculpture, and how much they'd give to get their hands on it.
So we went through the documents, read the media accounts, talked to two of the witnesses and several of the avatars. We visited the two train stations, which had changed considerably over the years, although their layouts were basically the same. We satisfied ourselves that, with the distribution of people reportedly on the platform at Cuirescu, no one could have gotten off the train carrying the sculpture without being seen.
I thought the conductor was involved. “He has to be,” I said. “The woman, whoever she was, needed help. A place to hide, both the sculpture and herself.”
“It's not difficult to search a train,” Alex said. “Not when you're looking for something that big. No, I don't think that's what happened.”
“So what did happen, Sherlock?”
He grinned. I've often wondered where that term came from. But I've never been able to find an origin. “Well,” he said, “I wonder why the thief discarded the wrapper?”
I shrugged. “Don't know.”
“I can see only one way it might have been done. I can't prove it, of course, but when you eliminate the impossible—”
“I'm listening.”
He enjoys moments like this. “It's unlikely that the woman could have hidden
Similar Books
