The countess nodded quickly to the obvious solution. “That is why the vandal sliced open Cromwell’s Saint Francis of Assisi. He believed the masterpiece was behind it.”
“But it wasn’t,” said Joanna. “And that leaves us with which painting?”
“The Baptism of Christ!”
“Yes.”
“But which of da Vinci’s masterpieces is hidden away?”
“That is to be determined,” Joanna replied. “But if one connects all the dots, it is a work of art done by Leonardo da Vinci during his early years while a student in del Verrocchio’s workshop where he worked closely with Sandro Botticelli.”
“It fits!” the countess said gleefully. “It fits perfectly!”
“Which brings forth yet another question, which is why did da Vinci feel the need to conceal it?” asked Joanna.
“I can think of a number of reasons,” Lady Katherine replied, as a most serious expression crossed her face. “Most likely he hid it so that del Verrocchio could not see it and demand to participate in the work. Remember at this point the mentor may have recognized da Vinci’s genius and sought to be part of it.”
“Particularly after del Verrocchio had seen da Vinci’s magnificent angel in The Baptism of Christ,” Joanna added.
“Precisely so,” the countess said, then went on. “Another possibility is that the work was incomplete and one that da Vinci planned to finish once he left del Verrocchio and became independent.”
“It must have been something very special to Leonardo da Vinci,” Joanna remarked. “And one cannot even begin to imagine what that might be.”
“Indeed,” the countess agreed. “But, as fascinating as all this appears to be, there is no absolute proof for your conclusion which is based entirely on supposition.”
“No, Countess, it is based on far more than supposition, for there is now word spreading through London’s black market that a da Vinci masterpiece will soon be offered for sale.”
Lady Katherine uttered a sigh of pure delight. “A hidden da Vinci masterpiece that has not seen the light of day for over five hundred years. It will be the Holy Grail of the art world.”
“But I shall need your assistance to recover it, for the restored The Baptism of Christ has now been returned to Windsor,” said Joanna.
Lady Katherine shook her head gently. “It is not currently at Windsor, but on display at the National Gallery, along with other works from the Royal Collection.”
“Hmm,” Joanna mused to herself while she pondered the situation.
“Does that present a problem?”
“No, Lady Katherine, it presents an opportunity.”
“How so?”
“Do you have influence at the National Gallery?”
“I should think so, in that I sit on their Board of Trustees.”
“Excellent!” Joanna cried out. “For it will require your influence to help set the trap to apprehend the scoundrel who ruined your Veronese.”
“And who brought young Cromwell to the brink of death,” the countess said bitterly.
“That, too.”
“Tell me precisely what you want done.”
26The National Gallery
“I am afraid Harry Edmunds is on to us,” whispered Lestrade.
“Why so?” Joanna whispered back.
“Because he has not shown,” Lestrade replied. “And this was the very last day the paintings from the Royal Collection will be on display here at the National Gallery. Tomorrow all of them will be returned to the security of Windsor Castle.”
“He is waiting,” Joanna insisted.
“For what, pray tell?”
“For tomorrow to come.”
Lestrade furrowed his forehead, making a show of thought. “Tomorrow is the day before Christmas. Other than it heralds Christmas Eve, no one places great significance on that date.”
“You do if you are Harry Edmunds.”
“Why so?”
“Because it is his wife’s birthday,” Joanna answered. “It is the special day Edmunds wrote about in the last letter to his wife.”
“Are you predicting his actions on that basis alone?” asked Lestrade.
“That, together with everything else,” Joanna replied. “You will recall that Charlotte Edmunds was followed by your surveillance team to Trafalgar Square to join the tourists and feed the pigeons. Now, how many Londoners are you aware of that travel to the square to feed those annoying birds?”
“Virtually none,” Lestrade had to admit.
“Which leads to the conclusion she was there on a reconnaissance mission for her husband.”
“Quite possibly,” Lestrade agreed. “But she entered the gallery and stayed for only a few minutes. She could not have obtained much information in such a brief visit.”
“That depends on what her mission was.”
“Which was?”
“To locate the exact location of the display, so that her dear Harry would not flounder around in the dark, searching for del Verrocchio’s The Baptism of Christ.”
“Very clever,” Lestrade conceded.
“Then she strolled over to Leicester Square for a bit of lunch,” Joanna continued.
“No law against that.”
“It is if the restaurant is on Irving Street and overlooks the rear entrance to the National Gallery.”
Lestrade nodded slowly. “Which would be Harry Edmunds’s way in and out of the gallery. If, of course, all of your assumptions are correct.”
“They are,” Joanna asserted. “But the big if here, Lestrade, is whether the clever Charlotte Edmunds was able to detect your surveillance team. For if she did, Harry would not dare to attempt a break-in.”
“So there is a distinct possibility that Edmunds will not show,” Lestrade said sourly.
“Do not underestimate him, Inspector,” Joanna cautioned. “For he is quite resourceful, and when the prize is great enough, greedy men will go to any lengths to obtain it.”
So we continued to wait in a small room off the main gallery, with our ears pricked for any sound that came from the dead-silent museum. As the minutes ticked by, all of us, with the exception of Joanna, became less confident that Harry Edmunds would make his move on that cold, snowy December night. But then again, this would be his last, best chance to possess a prize beyond prizes. But what was this masterpiece by Leonardo da Vinci? The three of us had debated the possibilities over a bottle
