The Unhappy Medium 2: Tom Fool: A Supernatural Comedy by T. J . Brown

Author:T. J . Brown [Brown, T. J .]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-08-06T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 25 – IT BEGIN

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The most audacious and unorthodox art heist of modern times began not with a break in – it began with a buffet.

As the last visitors left the National Portrait Gallery, the thank you reception for the security staff kicked off in the special exhibitions area. The staff, unused to such shows of recognition, were bemused.

‘Well, this is a turn-up for the books,’ said Les to his long-standing colleague.

‘Don’t knock it, Les man,’ said Carmen. ‘Never say no to free food, that’s what I say.’

‘Please,’ said the Director. ‘Take a seat everyone. Our friends at Havotech are very keen to show their appreciation, so, please, make yourselves comfortable.’

‘Would be a bit easier to relax without these bloody criminals staring at us,’ said Les, looking around him. ‘These buggers give me the willies!’

It was an odd setting for a bash. The portraits of the recently deceased criminals surrounded them like spectators at a chimp’s tea party, their dead stares lending the gathering a rather disconcerting ambience.

‘Turn a blind eye to ‘em, Les,’ said Carmen, grabbing herself a plate. ‘I mean, look at all this chicken, will you? They’ve spent a fair bit on this spread, I reckon. Get a load of these tartlets. I bet them is French.’

The morbidly obese operators from the security office were wasting no time; they had stacked their plates into little volcanoes, wolfing down the pigs-in-blankets like failed crash dieters. Likewise, the enthusiastic teams from dispatch and packaging were all over the buffet like locusts.

‘There is wine,’ announced Peter Carnatt, watching the feast with satisfaction. ‘Here, let me pour some for you.’

Carmen, unused to such treatment, giggled coquettishly.

‘Oh, I don’t know what to say, Sir. But I’d probably say YES!’

Carnatt smiled a plastic smile and poured the red wine into her equally plastic cup.

‘There you go,’ he said with just an echo of sincerity. ‘Please, all of you, have as much as you like. I insist.’

‘Well,’ said the Director, now that the party was underway. ‘I’m very sorry to be a party-pooper, but I’m afraid I have to dash. Promised the family I’d be in the Cotswolds for 8.00, so I’d best get my skates on. I will leave you in the capable hands of Mr Carnatt, here. Thank you again for all your splendid work. Have a fabulous time, and I will see you all bright and breezy on Monday morning.’

The Director departed, leaving the evening to the staff, Peter Carnatt, and the villainous portraits.

Once Carnatt was sure that the galleries outside had emptied and they would not be interrupted, he initiated the first stage of Harry Giacometti’s plan. From behind a screen, Carnatt dragged out a television and positioned it carefully at the head of the table.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, if I may have your attention, please,’ he began. ‘As you know, my employers at Havotech Industries are so very grateful to you for the professionalism and dedication that you have displayed in your work. So, by way of a thank you,

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