Where Treasure Hides by Johnnie Alexander Donley

Author:Johnnie Alexander Donley
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: FICTION / Christian / Historical
Publisher: Tyndale House Publishers, Inc.
Published: 2012-12-31T22:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

“Art collecting is the new Nazi sport,” Etienne Duret proclaimed as he dropped a bulging leather pouch on Hendrik’s desk.

Amused by the Frenchman’s uncharacteristic exuberance, Alison held out her hand. “Anything for me?”

“The prices they pay!” Caught up in the moment, Monsieur Duret absentmindedly pulled a peppermint out of his pocket and placed it in Alison’s palm.

She frowned at it, then popped it in her mouth.

“Outrageous,” he continued, shaking his head. “But do they know what they are buying? They do not even care.”

“That is good for us.” Hendrik opened the clasp on the pouch and pulled out a sheaf of paper and a stack of checks and cash. “We don’t want them looking too closely at some of our Masters.”

“Operation Rembrandt is a success.”

“A tremendous success,” said Hendrik, sorting through the receipts and the money. He had come up with the name for their clandestine scheme against the Nazi invaders. “Though most of these proceeds appear to be from legitimate commissions.”

“Our sellers have made a good profit. And so have we.”

“I wish Papa would let me paint a forgery.” Alison propped her elbows on top of the typewriting table. She had been assisting her grandfather with correspondence when Monsieur Duret rushed into the alcove that was now the gallery’s office.

Duret’s eyes widened in horror. “You mustn’t say this, cherie. Your father is right to protect you in this way.”

“I might not be able to paint a Rembrandt, but I’m sure I could forge someone.”

“No, no, no.” Duret groaned. “Explain it to her, Hendrik.”

“We don’t doubt your talent, schatje. Or your skill.”

“Then why can’t I help?”

“Because to forge a painting,” said Pieter as he and Will joined the others in the alcove, “is to diminish your own light.”

“But you forge paintings,” Alison said softly.

Pieter’s eyes darkened, and he worked his jaw. “My light was extinguished a long time ago.”

“Our clients don’t think so,” Hendrik said gruffly, waving the stack of money. “Though they naturally believe they are purchasing a de Hooch or a van Heemskerk.”

“A what?” asked Will.

“Contemporaries of Vermeer,” Alison said, feigning irritation at his ignorance of his Dutch heritage. “You know who Vermeer is, don’t you?”

“Him, I know. Who wouldn’t, growing up with this family?”

Alison threw an eraser at him, but Will caught it and tossed it back. She ducked and squealed.

“Children!” Hendrik rose from his chair. “Behave yourselves. I’m taking this upstairs to the safe.” Leaving the alcove, he waved the metal box that now held the contents of the pouch.

Pieter leaned against his father’s desk. “Any news from Amsterdam?” he asked Duret.

“Our friend Göring will be there the day after tomorrow. On another of his shopping sprees.”

At the mention of the beast’s name, Alison unconsciously touched her scar. Over the past couple of years, it had faded from pink to white. Her father noticed, and she dropped her hand into her lap. “Why else would he come?” she blurted, trying to hide her embarrassment.

“I thought it wise to close our little enterprise.” His earlier enthusiasm spent, Duret sank into one of the leather chairs facing the desk.

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