And then yesterday a story about this letter was leaked to the Tribune… ”
“You didn’t tell me. How did that happen?”
“Confidential information with news value commands a nice price. I logged it into the system at the auction house, which is password protected, but someone must have breached protocol to access my report. It’s happenedbefore but I thought we had new firewalls in place so it couldn’t happen again.”
“Technology.” Smettering spat the word.
“Yes, but our privacy is sacrosanct. We owe our customers discretion.”
“Well, I’m sorry but working with a copy is like looking at a photograph instead of the painting itself. The answers I’m looking for are in the nuances.” The expert positioned the letter under a microscope and peered at the individual characters. “It’s not just the handwriting I need to see but how the ink holds the lines, seeps into the paper, the pressure the nib made, if there are rips, spills. Clues, Jeremy, they are all clues.”
“I know that. Still, traveling with an original is a risk.” Which was why he’d driven here rather than taking a plane; he wouldn’t travel with the document and without a gun.
“For a scholar, you’ve always been courageous. What’s going on? A letter from Beethoven to Antonie Brentano is definitely a breathtaking find, but there has to be more to this to explain your reaction.”
“You’ll understand once you read it.”
“Worth killing for?”
“You and I both know how little people will kill for.”
Smettering swung the scope out of the way and read the letter. When he finished he glanced over at Jeremy, shook his head slightly and sighed as if a burden had just settled on his shoulders. Without saying anything, he hunched over the letter again, this time reading not from left to right as the sentences had been penned, but from right to left, and not from top to bottom but bottom to top. It was critical for the expert to look at the words out of context because sometimes peculiarities were more noticeable with the change in focus.
Jeremy began to pace and take inventory of the room. In all the years he had been visiting the “master”—as he called Smettering—this Bauhaus clean and spare room had never changed. Not a painting or a plant had been added. There were only two objects on the blond wood desk: a black microscope and sleek black table lamp that offered six levels of halogen intensity; the other tools of the trade were in drawers.
Smettering had been working for over a half hour and still hadn’t offered up an opinion. Jeremy was once again struck by how much patience was required of him. He glanced at his watch. Meer was probably at his house by now and Ruth would be making her something to eat. Maybe he should step out into the hall and call and see if—
“This is a major find for you, congratulations,” Smettering said as he walked around to where Jeremy stood and patted his colleague on the back, drawing him away from the desk area over to the couch.
“It’s authentic?” Jeremy asked.
“I have no doubt.” Taking two snifters from a side table, he poured an inch of brandy into each and handed one to Jeremy. “I know it’s early in the day but you deserve a moment to enjoy this accomplishment.”
Accepting the glass, Jeremy thanked his friend.
“Although it is a very complicated accomplishment, isn’t it?” Smettering continued. “Beethoven very clearly admits he was involved in both a robbery and a forgery.”
“Which will make me the man responsible for exposing Beethoven as a criminal.”
“There will be dedicated Beethoven enthusiasts and scholars who’d rather destroy you, than let you destroy their hero’s reputation.”
Jeremy shrugged.
“Not concerned? You’d better be. This is Beethoven, the iconic master we’re talking about. Your revelation will be a powder keg.”
On the lawn a robin landed in the birdbath and the movement distracted Jeremy, who watched
“You didn’t tell me. How did that happen?”
“Confidential information with news value commands a nice price. I logged it into the system at the auction house, which is password protected, but someone must have breached protocol to access my report. It’s happenedbefore but I thought we had new firewalls in place so it couldn’t happen again.”
“Technology.” Smettering spat the word.
“Yes, but our privacy is sacrosanct. We owe our customers discretion.”
“Well, I’m sorry but working with a copy is like looking at a photograph instead of the painting itself. The answers I’m looking for are in the nuances.” The expert positioned the letter under a microscope and peered at the individual characters. “It’s not just the handwriting I need to see but how the ink holds the lines, seeps into the paper, the pressure the nib made, if there are rips, spills. Clues, Jeremy, they are all clues.”
“I know that. Still, traveling with an original is a risk.” Which was why he’d driven here rather than taking a plane; he wouldn’t travel with the document and without a gun.
“For a scholar, you’ve always been courageous. What’s going on? A letter from Beethoven to Antonie Brentano is definitely a breathtaking find, but there has to be more to this to explain your reaction.”
“You’ll understand once you read it.”
“Worth killing for?”
“You and I both know how little people will kill for.”
Smettering swung the scope out of the way and read the letter. When he finished he glanced over at Jeremy, shook his head slightly and sighed as if a burden had just settled on his shoulders. Without saying anything, he hunched over the letter again, this time reading not from left to right as the sentences had been penned, but from right to left, and not from top to bottom but bottom to top. It was critical for the expert to look at the words out of context because sometimes peculiarities were more noticeable with the change in focus.
Jeremy began to pace and take inventory of the room. In all the years he had been visiting the “master”—as he called Smettering—this Bauhaus clean and spare room had never changed. Not a painting or a plant had been added. There were only two objects on the blond wood desk: a black microscope and sleek black table lamp that offered six levels of halogen intensity; the other tools of the trade were in drawers.
Smettering had been working for over a half hour and still hadn’t offered up an opinion. Jeremy was once again struck by how much patience was required of him. He glanced at his watch. Meer was probably at his house by now and Ruth would be making her something to eat. Maybe he should step out into the hall and call and see if—
“This is a major find for you, congratulations,” Smettering said as he walked around to where Jeremy stood and patted his colleague on the back, drawing him away from the desk area over to the couch.
“It’s authentic?” Jeremy asked.
“I have no doubt.” Taking two snifters from a side table, he poured an inch of brandy into each and handed one to Jeremy. “I know it’s early in the day but you deserve a moment to enjoy this accomplishment.”
Accepting the glass, Jeremy thanked his friend.
“Although it is a very complicated accomplishment, isn’t it?” Smettering continued. “Beethoven very clearly admits he was involved in both a robbery and a forgery.”
“Which will make me the man responsible for exposing Beethoven as a criminal.”
“There will be dedicated Beethoven enthusiasts and scholars who’d rather destroy you, than let you destroy their hero’s reputation.”
Jeremy shrugged.
“Not concerned? You’d better be. This is Beethoven, the iconic master we’re talking about. Your revelation will be a powder keg.”
On the lawn a robin landed in the birdbath and the movement distracted Jeremy, who watched
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