Smaragdus

The proximity of the opening date electrified everyone involved with the exhibition. Richard’s crew was putting in long days, finalizing the security details of the main exhibition room where the Empress’ jewels would take center stage. Carol observed the work from start to finish with keen interest. The security cameras had been installed, and the tailor-made glass vitrine was mounted on its base in the middle of the room. The floor alarm was tested at least three times a day, usually twice on purpose and once by accident when someone inadvertently stumbled too close to the case when the system was operational.

These stupid mistakes bugged Richard immensely, and he did not mince words when telling his staffers off for being  ‘clumsy, dim-witted morons’. Having witnessed far too many of his nasty outbursts, Carol saw fit to intervene when it happened once again.

“Richard, cut the poor guy some slack,” Carol said. “Everyone is understandably nervous, and we’re all just getting used to these special circumstances.” Richard didn’t look too pleased, but he quit harassing the guy for now. “Is it okay if I approach the case now?” Carol asked after the blare of the alarm had died out.     

Richard nodded, still peeved by what had happened. Smiling, Carol walked over to the glass box that reacted to her touch as promised. The vitrine lost its transparency, turning milky white. “It’s like a magic trick,” Carol gasped. “Now you see it, now you don’t…” She found it quite enthralling.

The simple efficiency mellowed even Richard. “Works like a charm every time,” he agreed. “I only wish we could somehow reinstate the clarity from the control booth, but at this point the time clock can’t be easily circumvented.”

Carol looked surprised. “It stays like that?” she asked.

“For two hours, I’m afraid.” The expression on Richard’s face revealed that he wasn’t too crazy about the delay. “But if someone dares to paw the glass in the first place, it’s good to block the view once and for all. That’ll teach ‘em a lesson!” he pontificated.

Who ‘them’ in Richard’s mind were wasn’t all that clear to Carol but she humoured him nevertheless. “I suppose you’re right. One can’t covet what one doesn’t see.”

“I don’t think we’ll have any real problems with it,” Richard said, downplaying his earlier concern. “The public will be notified that touching is prohibited, and that by violating this rule a visitor may be liable to pay a hefty fine.”          

Carol still couldn’t believe that the system would be so ‘un-co-operative’. “Is there really nothing we can do to speed it up?” she inquired.

“Well, we do have a security code that is valid only once per day if we need to bypass it, but the downside to it is that if it happens again soon after that, the box will turn white for solid eight hours.” By now it was evident that Richard wanted to change the subject.

“That would be unfortunate indeed,” Carol agreed. “But it’s quite a stretch to think an accident like that could happen twice in a same day.”

Richard shrugged, but he appreciated Carol’s optimism. “I hope you’re right.”

An hour later

“If the mountain won't come to Mohammed, then Mohammed must go to the mountain…” Abby was standing in the doorway of Carol’s office. She looked as if she hadn’t slept for days.

Carol wasn’t at all pleased to see her there. “What an unnecessarily prophetic honor,” she sneered at her husband’s nurse. “This is not the time or the place…” she started.

“When is it then if not now?” Abby interrupted, desperate to tell her side of the story. She had answered Carol’s questions about Therese’s whereabouts, but other than that she hadn’t gotten a word in. “You have obviously made up your mind about me without hearing me at all! I think I deserve better than that.”

Carol glared at Abby. “Deserve? You deserve better? After conspiring behind my back with my assistant?” Her raised voice made Abby step all the way in and close the door firmly behind her.

“I have done no such thing!” Abby defended herself.

“Don’t play me for a fool, dear Abigail!” Carol’s voice cut straight through Abby’s excuses. “Who are you really? What are you? If anyone here’s deserving, it’s me, and I intend to get to the bottom of this damn charade.”

Abby sat down to face the doubts and accusations she suspected would soon be aimed at her. “What do you want to know? Ask me and I’ll answer you.” She knew she’d have to adhere to the truth, but the facets of that truth would not extend beyond the scope of Carol’s questions.

“Why would anyone want to blackmail me? Was it Lady Cantrell who orchestrated it or someone else?” After her run-in with Raymond Vickers, Carol knew that Genevieve was a crucial player at least in some devious scheme.

“As I told Rindy, only Therese can reply to these questions. I only agreed to help her when she contacted me that night.” Abby was sticking to her guns.

“How do you know Therese?” Carol interrogated.

“She called me when she was bringing you home from Lady Cantrell’s manor.” It wasn't exactly a straight answer, but it did the trick.

“Why wasn’t I told about this… this blackmail attempt?” Carol wanted to know.

“Therese promised that she would when the time was right. She mentioned something about the situation being very unpredictable and not wanting to upset you before the exhibition opened.” Again Abby sounded quite reasonable in her defense.

“That was not your decision to make!” Carol grumbled. “If I’m being threatened, I need to know about it!” she declared.

Abby nodded meekly. “You are absolutely right, and I apologize for my poor judgment. I should’ve come forward, no matter what anyone else said. It’s just that… that…” Looking troubled and hesitant, she wasn’t sure if she should say what had just occurred to her.

“Just what?!?” Carol demanded to find out, both impatient and furious.

“I thought what Therese did that night was noble and brave, yet she wanted no credit for it.” Abby had been so angry with Therese when she’d seen her come out of Genevieve’s room, but right now it hardly mattered.

She had met Therese the same morning, and the young woman Abby had thought she’d known like the back of her hand had appeared so very different from the old one. It was almost as if Therese had gone through a transformation of sorts; a change of heart that had turned a wilful child into a distinctly more mature adult.        

“Should anything happen to me, you will be provided with instructions to take care of what I’ve set in motion,” Therese had confided in Abby. “Promise me you will,” she had pleaded with her.

“Nothing bad’s going to happen,” Abby had tried to console Therese despite her own uneasiness. “Please don’t say such things.”

Therese had smiled at Abby but insisted on getting her answer. “You have to promise me… will you?”

What else could she have done? “I promise.” Her own words echoed in Abby’s mind now that she was being grilled by Carol. Or had been grilled by Carol - until her boss had suddenly fallen silent.

“Why didn’t she want me to know?” Carol finally dared to ask.

Abby’s smile was knowing. “People rarely take chances unless they're motivated by greed, sense of duty or love… take your pick, but do pick the right one.” She wasn’t going to do Carol’s work for her.  

Carol hadn’t expected to hear this. To hear Abby speak of love, if only in passing, was enough to confuse everything once more, to transport her back to that wondrous kiss in the dark.   

Later the same day Carol held her weekly staff meeting in one of the less heavily guarded exhibition rooms. Some of the visiting jewels were already there. Therese was present, standing in the back.  

“Dear colleagues, we are less than a week away from the opening night of Smaragdus - The Sparkle of Venus...” Carol enjoyed seeing how her words sank in. “These sacred stones of the goddess of love - or at least the Greeks seemed to think so - have never before been this inclusively exhibited in our country.” She made a sweeping motion with her hand to turn her listeners' attention to what was all around them. “Have a look at what you have accomplished: the Mogul Mughal Emerald here with its engraved invocations, the exquisite Crown of Andes over there… the lush green beauty of these famous stones that holds a promise of not only love but also of luck and prosperity.” We could all use some love, luck and prosperity, occurred to her out of the blue. “And the main attraction is still yet to come…”

Carol was waxing poetic and she knew it. Working in a museum never meant doing it just for a pay check. It was way more than that, a passion and a calling combined. She didn’t want anyone in her staff to lose the sight of what was the ultimate goal of their joint endeavour: to shed light on previously unfamiliar eras and people through selected objects. Hers was en expert team, and she wanted her staff to be aware of it, too. “Appreciate your own hard work. Whatever happens in the future, whatever disappointments you may encounter, you can always look back at this proud moment and be sure that you did your best.” It wasn’t the first time Carol addressed her staff so eloquently, but this time she thought her words had more poignancy than ever before.     

After the meeting Carol was surrounded by her colleagues bursting with questions about the remaining work and the opening night. Therese, however, saw no point in hanging around any longer than needed. She thought about what Carol had said, wondering if the coup she was contemplating would constitute a disappointment the Met staffers could ever put past them.

Therese had stayed away from Carol, despite still being puzzled by what had happened between them. Although the hurt of Carol’s rejection hadn't disappeared, Therese’s spirit was miraculously rekindled. She had spent long nights studying the letters she now valued as her greatest treasure, planning what to do next and how to make it happen. It was a lot of work for just one person, but the enduring hope the individual messages conveyed had galvanized Therese into tireless action.

Even though Therese regretted what had happened with Genevieve, their encounter had at least given her more room to operate on her own. Whenever she had talked with her these days, Lady Cantrell had seemed to be in good spirits. “Just be extra careful, darling,” Genevieve had said only this morning overn the phone. “Something unexpected may come up...”

Too little too late. Therese was hardly moved by Genevieve’s ‘warm concern’. Therese knew the odds of her being able to steal the jewels and get away with it were against her, but hadn’t it always been the same way? To pull a stunt like that required a special kind of arrogance and skill. Therese had practised the basics and planned her heist as thoroughly as humanly possible, but when push came to shove, it was the rush of adrenaline and her exceptional nerve that dictated the outcome.

Dannie was in his room when Therese got back to her hotel. “Wanna see Lou’s choker?” he asked her when Therese stopped by to say hello. Dannie insisted on calling Empress Louise ‘Lou’ and the famous necklace a ‘choker’.

“Sure,” Therese smiled, delighted to see Dannie in a cheerful mood. He had a real reason for it, too: the replica was simply stunning. “Wow… why don’t we just forget about swiping the original now that we have this masterpiece,” she laughed.

Dannie's joyfulness was short-lived. “Why don’t we...” he mumbled, remembering Abby’s visit. “I was thinking… maybe it’s not a good idea to go ahead with it.” His ears were turning red out of sudden nervousness.

Therese glanced at Dannie, not knowing what to make of his unexpected second thoughts. “Where’s this coming from, D?” she asked, surprised. “Haven’t you always told me that we have no other choice but to toe the line?” she continued. This kind of hesitation didn’t sound like Dannie at all.

“Well, it’s just that…” he stammered, averting his eyes from Therese’s curious gaze. “It’s - dangerous… you know?” Verbal expression had never been Dannie’s strong suit.

“And now you’ve figured it out?” Therese mocked him, amused by what had always been self-evident. “If it weren’t dangerous, anyone could do it.” Shaking her head, she turned her attention back to Dannie’s brilliant creation. “You’ve done one heck of a job with this one…” Therese admired. “The way you’ve cut the crystal structure into precise, matching briolettes is masterly.” What she was holding in her hands was truly Dannie’s masterpiece.  

“Thanks,” Dannie said. He was still unsatisfied with his lacking performance in getting Therese to rethink her plan, but a bigger and much vainer part of him enjoyed the lavished praise all too eagerly. “Madam was here earlier and she liked it a lot too…”

The elaborate fake felt heavy in Therese’s hands. “Oh really? Did she ask for me?”

Dannie shook his head. “No, she didn’t talk about you at all.”

Therese retired to her room and ordered dinner. While eating a simple meal that bore a striking resemblance to breakfast she once again browsed the mail she had stashed in a bin underneath her bed. Although Therese had opened everything, she hadn’t really gotten into the big envelopes yet. She dug the bin for the needed brown ones, four bubble mailers… 1, 2, 3….the last one must have sunk to the bottom. Despite all efforts it avoided Therese’s hand.

After a while Therese poured the bin’s entire contents on the bed, confident this would aid her in locating the missing envelope. Still no luck. Searching every drawer and cabinet, Therese tried to keep calm as long as possible. There had to be a logical explanation for her not finding it. She must have misplaced it somehow - maybe put it under her pillow or kicked it under the bed frame? The housekeeping had certainly not touched it, because the do-not-disturb sign had been on the door ever since she had moved in. Therese had even taken the time to stress the fact to the hotel personnel. She didn’t want anyone in any circumstances to enter her room when she was away.  

An hour later Therese had to face the fact that the mailer was not in the room anymore. Her pulse racing, she sat on the edge of the bed and took a quick toll of what was missing. Two blank passports she had paid dearly for. Then another, more terrifying thought occurred to her. Maybe something else was gone as well? It took Therese an inordinate amount of time to accept the alternative that someone had snuck into her room and stolen stuff from her.

The ensuing search took a frantic turn, Therese going through every item and sheet of paper with shaking hands and rattled nerves. Soon everything looked the same, the thankful letters, the legal documents, her personal mementos from the performance bills to the graduation diploma… The girl she once was, Therese Tourbillon, seemed to mock her desperation from the crumpled color leaflet. Breathe, Therese, breathe, she ordered herself.  Cabochon, rivoli, rhombus, chaton… repeatingthe cuts of her inexpensive gems would surely once again restore her inner calm. Flat-back, triangle, lemon, baquette...Therese kept chanting in her mind - until she realized what was truly wrong.  

Where the fuck are my rhinestones?!?                                

The next morning Therese went to work, seemingly unfazed by what had happened. A long, sleepless night had resulted in one conclusion only: Genevieve. She didn’t talk about you at all, Dannie had said. What would’ve been there to talk about when she had already been snooping around in my room? Therese mused bitterly. Just be extra careful, darling. Therese had mistaken Genevieve’s words for almost genuine if belated concern. Now she knew better.

Genevieve liked to brag about her ‘special life insurances’ - the leverage she had on people who worked for her. “I don’t like surprises,” she used to say, “so I’ll make sure none will ever cramp my style.” Therese had never cared for Lady Cantrell’s boastful monologues but she had paid attention. Something unexpected may come up… Genevieve’s warning sounded downright nefarious the more Therese thought about it.

Damned if I do, damned if I don’t. One thing seemed clear though: she would have to go through with the heist despite everything. It was what Genevieve expected her to do. Maybe her charitable work with Kathleen’s girls hadn’t caught Lady Cantrell’s attention all that much? Therese hoped against hope. After all, Genevieve was impatient and tended to focus on what was obvious and useful. Perhaps she’d been in her room only for a short while and grabbed the stuff that was close by? The padded envelopes were visible on the pile and the rhinestones had been practically in plain sight on top of the bureau. Therese sighed, unable to shake off the feeling of being doomed. I can’t worry about this now.

The Empress’s jewels were to arrive in just two days, and she had to keep her cool. Richard had made it his business to stop by her office every chance he got, which aggravated Therese to no end. He did refrain from verbally harassing her, but the meaning of his visits was clear to her. I’m watching you.

Nothing here to see. Therese wasn’t going to give him the pleasure of finding her high-strung nor did she express any inappropriate curiosity regarding his work with the main exhibition space. She had all the details, more than enough to plot and plan far away from Richard’s prying eyes. Not even his off-handed remark about how he had found another more reliable transportation service for the French valuables had thrown her off balance.

Therese also managed to act normal with Carol when they oversaw the new wall labels in the 'Wodabe room'. Carol was kind and courteous to everyone, and the guarded smile she bequeathed Therese seemed sincere enough.

At the end of the day Therese was relieved to retreat to the privacy of her hotel room. A facade, no matter how elaborate and well tended, was still a heavy burden to keep up. The bright city lights greeted her through the window the minute she walked in. Not bothering to take her coat off, she stood in the dark far longer than she realized. The soft spell of the night captivated Therese, swathing her in silence.   

When Therese finally came out of it, a white piece of paper forgotten on the floor caught her eye. I must have dropped it this morning, she thought before picking it up. She hadn’t. What she found didn’t belong to the trash bin: it was a small white envelope with no name, address or stamp on it. It had either been slid under the door or placed on the carpet while she had been out. The thought of yet another unauthorized entry to her room made Therese's heart skip a beat, yet what was inside was even more serious than that.

A small white card accompanied a brochure of some kind. Therese read the typed message that bore no signature:

something VICKED this way comes

The clumsy typo in the Macbeth quote puzzled Therese at first, but after she had opened the leaflet advertising the services of QVICK TRANSPORTATION CO, it made hell of a lot more sense. The anonymous letter slipped through her fingers and drifted back to the floor.