Page 31 of The Prize
Theo raised his head. “Hello there,” came his American accent with a remnant of Irish. “Fell off a horse during a trip to Puerto Natales five years ago. Seeing my chiropractor this afternoon. Tea?”
Tobias waved off his offer. “We’re fine.”
I shut the door behind me. “Can we getyouanything?”
“Wilder already offered.” Theo rose to his feet cautiously and his expression strained as he made it to his desk. “Apparently Wilder wants your visit here kept private? Divinely evocative. You art collectors are a secretive bunch.” He peered over his spectacles at me and tucked his hands into his tweed jacket.
His office was a reflection of his academia and a familiar sense of organization that I admired Tobias for.
I sat in his corner armchair. “How do you know each other?”
“We met in Massachusetts,” Theo explained. “Tobias was my student. He loved inventing gadgets back then, too.” Theo eyed him affectionately. “Read in theTimesyou’ve created an air keyboard? What’s wrong with this?” He pointed to his own. “Can’t you invent something that will save the world, Wilder?”
Tobias smiled fondly. “Theo’s given us the access code for the Leonardo da Vinci exhibit. There’s one in this very building.” He pointed to a Post-it note on the desk with a series of numbers scribbled on it.
Theo gave a nod. “Quite the collection of artifacts that once belonged to da Vinci. Wilder tells me you’re also a fan?”
“His work was inspiring,” I said. “To say the least.”
“I hear you’re an art forensic specialist, Zara?” he added.
“Yes.”
“Tobias and I share a common passion.” Theo lowered himself into his swivel chair. “Both of us have an admiration for da Vinci’s work.”
Another layer of Wilder revealed and I recalled his interactive world I’d experienced while wearing his augmented reality headset back at LACMA. I toured da Vinci’s personal workspace, or at least the replica Tobias had created. It also explained his excitement when I’d shown him theCannon Gunsketch I’d once kept hidden in a safe in my London home by the same artist; the drawing so respected it had survived the passing of time.
“The exhibit upstairs has a collection of da Vinci’s paint brushes.” Tobias broke me from my daydreaming. “Isn’t that something?”
“Yes, it really is.” My widening eyes told him I was on to him. “It’s such an honor to meet you, Theo. I was a student back at The Courtauld and loved my time there. I’ve considered teaching.” Especially as my job at Huntly Pierre was no longer viable probably. The thought of it made my stomach ache.
The phone rang and Theo gestured he should take it. “Thanks, got it.” He hung up and looked at Tobias. “They’re advising us to save everything we’re working on. Cameras are down.”
Wilder gave a convincing look of concern and I kept my gaze off him assuming he was the cause. He’d assured me there’d be no record of our visit today and this was why. It also explained why he’d gone on ahead. Somehow he’d disabled their surveillance capacity from a remote and all without entering their security hub. I was equally annoyed and impressed with the rascal.
Tobias sat in the chair before the desk. “It’s good to see you, Theo.”
“Likewise,” he replied.
“What can you tell us about this da Vinci exhibit?”
“Private collector. Wants to remain anonymous. There’s no paintings I’m afraid, merely brushes, paints and whatnot.”
“There’s a sacredness to her,” I piped up. “TheMona Lisa, I mean.”
Theo brightened. “She was commissioned by Mona Lisa’s husband. Though the mystery why this very painting was found among da Vinci’s personal belongings after he died still baffles us today.”
“A true mystery.” Tobias gave a nod. “Because it should have hung in their home and not remained with the artist.”
“Very intriguing,” agreed Theo. “Which might explain there being the rumor of more than one. Leonardo was perfecting his painting and the process involved several canvases perhaps.”
Tobias sighed with admiration. “The way he comprehended the light reflecting off the back of the moon is the exact same way he created the reflection of light emanating off Mona Lisa’s cheek.”
“Wasn’t he dyslexic?” I said.
Theo agreed with a nod. “Leonardo wrote backward with mirror writing. It was first suspected to be related to his obsession with secrecy but what we know today proves he was left-handed and from the ingeniousness of his drawings—”
“He was using both his left and right brain simultaneously.” I waved my apology for interrupting.
