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"Misfits in Love and in Trouble."
When the request came through the inter-departmental mail he at first did not open it right away more so because it got buried underneath all of the other paperwork and detritus that had piled up on his office desk, both at home and at his job.
Ben tended to work odd hours, and he was not the most organized person in the world and he had a tendency to think a hundred thoughts a minute and waxing poetic whenever he became enthused about whatever theory he was stuck on at the time.
He also got annoyed whenever Abigail would come around and try to clean his office by removing dusting and vacuuming and removing his stacks of paper. That was the only logical explanation for why the envelope got lost in the shuffle.
Once he did open it, Ben wished he had not.
Somehow he had thought that Abby's superiors in the National Archives would have forgotten about their little escapade surrounding their search for the fabled lost treasure of the Free Masons a few years back; or least it would be considered a case of out-of-sight, out-of-mind.
He found himself staring at a formal request for his and Riley Poole's attendance at one of the formest auction houses in the United States: second only to Christie's' in London for both a gala event and art sale, with cocktails to follow.
'Wonderful, great, even,' though Ben thought ruefully. "A stiff drink of really expensive Scotch Brandy sounds really good right about now."
Riley probably would bemoan the fact that 'He had nothing to wear.'
Ben supposed being a bright-eyed young thing like Riley and his computer expertise who had the makings to definitely make something of himself in the field of amateur history and cryptology would want to look good.
Ben tried to mentally block that particular line of thought, not only because it got in the way of work, but also because he felt a twinge of guilt for finding his assistant and protege absurdly attractive in fancy dress clothes.
"Abby's fault, entirely, she was the one who bought him that three-piece Armani suit last Christmas and the platinum cuff-links to match. Then, again, Abby always says that the heart wants what it wants, or some such BS like that. So, who am I to stand it it's the way?"
Still, I should accept this offer. It promises a lot of money upfront and the other half when the job's complete.
Just then Riley Poole poked his head around the edge of the open door of Ben's office. "Ben?"
"What's Abby's fault? Did we get another contract yet?" he asked.
"Yeah, but I'm not entirely sure what to make of it," Ben replied.
"See for yourself," Ben pushed the creamy stationery of the letter to his friend and colleague. Riley read it over once and then once more for good measure.
Riley sighed and set the letter back on the desk. "What I don't understand, is why the did not just hire an art historian or an in-house expert for a job of this nature. Or, is there another reason they would need to out-source?"
"Beats me," shrugged Ben while reaching up to rub at an itch that made itself known along the bridge of his nose, the movement causing his glasses to get pushed up. He took them off.
"Do you want to accept the contract or not. I mean your the boss, but if you say you won't do it for whatever reason I'll back your play," Riley stated.
"It's not that," Ben replied. "God knows, we do need the money... it's not like we're being flooded with other contracts that can't be suspended for a long weekend or however long this job ends up being...."
"A long weekend in Soho rubbing elbows with the who's who or New York High Society and you get to look at priceless artifacts and insanely pricey artwork."
"So, we're going to do it?" Riley asked perhaps a bit too eagerly.
"Yeah, we're doing it," Ben replied. "Send the formal acceptance letter. Oh, by the way, what does one wear to one of these things?"
Riley grinned. "Leave it to me, you just collect all the stuff we'll need for the job and I'll handle the rest."
"Famous last words," Ben replied with a off-kilter grin.
*****
Arriving at Sotheby's auction house in New York
Their flight was uneventful.
Riley had insisted that they take his flashy expensive car, but Ben had pointed that it was just not practical and they had gotten on a plane instead, booking a reasonable hotel within walking distance of Sotheby's.
Abby met them in the foyer and full kiss on the lips for Ben and a more chaste kiss on the cheeks for Riley.
While she was in an established relationship with Ben she had laid down foundations that she was not opposed to expanding it to include Riley as well.
This was the 21st century for goodness sake, and there was nothing that said that she could not have an open relationship with more than one person.
In the back of her mind, Abigail did have to consider how that would look to her own superiors, then decided that she had never really cared what other people thought about what she did on her downtime and the choices she made for her own life; why start now?
And if anyone threw any shade on her or those she cared about well that was their problem. right?
"Ben, Riley, I'm so glad you guys could make it," she said aloud.
"Wouldn't miss it," Ben replied. "Do we get cocktails now or later?"
"Yeah, I concur," Riley said. "Not about the cocktails, I mean, uh, thanks for the invite."
"Abby smiled. "This way, the auction about to start and you can be my plus two, later we'll head over and go over those pieces I mentioned in my letter."
******
Arranged along the wall were about two dozen famous works of art dating from the mid 13th century to the 19th century.
"One of the great things about art is that its always open to interpretation. You can pore over your favorite painting over and over again and still discover new cryptic symbols or hidden details."
"Did you know that the famous German composer Johann Sebastian Bach's other passion was was mathematics?" Riley suggested.
"No, I mean, I vaguely recall hearing something like that," Abby replied.
"No, true story. It's a matter of a great deal of speculation that within some of his compositions he hid mathematical puzzles," Ben said.
"I found those!" Riley said even ran them through an algorithm on my laptop," Riley replied.
"What exactly are we supposed to be looking for," Ben asked.
"That's what you are going to tell us," she replied.
"Abby, you know I love you, but you could be a little less cryptic I think you've been in D.C too long, maybe a vacation to South Dakota is just what the doctor ordered."
"Or we could discuss the market value of houses in the area," Abby said suggestively.
No, and too many public displays of affection! If you do, I want in on it!" Riley exclaimed in mock annoyance."
Ben cleared his throat and Abby just winked and glared mock-severely at them both. "Not now, boys. Let's get to work."
"The Netherlandish Proverbs". Netherlandish Proverbs (Dutch: Nederlandse Spreekwoorden; also called Flemish Proverbs, The Blue Cloak or The Topsy Turvy World) is a 1559 oil-on-oak-panel painting by Pieter Bruegel the Elder that depicts a scene in which humans and, to a lesser extent, animals and objects, offer literal illustrations of Dutch-language proverbs and idioms.
Running themes in Bruegel's paintings are the absurdity, wickedness and foolishness of humans, and this is no exception. The painting's original title, The Blue Cloak or The Folly of the World, indicates that Bruegel's intent was not just to illustrate proverbs, but rather to catalog human folly. Many of the people depicted show the characteristic blank features that Bruegel used to portray fools." Riley was on a roll now.
"His son, Pieter Brueghel the Younger, specialized in making copies of his father's work and painted at least 16 copies of Netherlandish Proverbs.[2] Not all versions of the painting, by father or son, show exactly the same proverbs and they also differ in other minor details," Ben added.
Riley took out the small notebook he always carried with him and began to scribble down a clue buried not only in the painting themselves but also in the frame along the canvas.
"I recall that proverbs were very popular in Brueghel's time but who's to say that whoever took your brother and sister left this message for us?" Abby asked.
"To be able to die even the devil down." Hmm, Riley said tapping the edge of his pencil against chin.
Translation? Obstinacy overcomes everything," Ben replied.
"To bell the cat. or to carry out a dangerous or impossible plan," Riley mused.
"A little on the nose, if you ask me," Abby remarked.
"To sit on hot coals., or to act impatiently," Ben read. "To put a spoke in one's eye.
"Mind that the black dog does not come in between?" Riley mused.
"I think it means that it hope we get this right the first time, or we might not get a second chance," Abby said,
"There hangs the knife or to issue a challenge."
"It's an algorithm" Riley mused, but what does it mean?' And why does it feel like its speaking to me personally?"
Just when they thought that it might take them all night to go through all the proverbs Ben saw a folded piece of paper fall out from under the edge of the gilt frame. He stopped to pick it up and saw that it was torn photo. As he turned it over he realized that it had a photo of three people he knew very well.
"Ah, Riley, I think this is yours."
Riley took the photo and turned it over and his face went pale. "It's the photo Trevor and Molly and me from last Thanksgiving. But, how did it get here?"
"May I see it?" Abby asked.
She turned it over and said: "Riley, It's got your brother's address on the back of it. Someone was here and that someone knows where your brother lives."
*********************
At Trevor's house.
"It's not always all about you, Ben," Riley muttered.
"What? Where did that come from?" Ben asked.
It's just that you know ever since I came to work for you I never really talked about my family or my home life from when I was a kid, right?"
"I mean you mentioned that you had siblings, and we both agree that it was your business and left it at that. You know everything about my messed up dysfunctional family life, and I never felt I needed to pressure you about your family if you didn't want me to."
"It's that I think they might be involved. I think they're in trouble."
"Trevor's the one I talk to the most, mostly through text messages, but he always texts back and when I do see him he makes enough food to feed an army. Or he talks about his cases or just stuff and Molly talks about the travel business." Riley heaved a long sigh and ran a hand through his sandy brown hair ruining it is usually coiffed and neatly put together appearance.
"Call him. Make sure he's all right," Ben suggested.
Riley took his cellphone out of his pocket and dialed Trevor's number his heart hammering in his throat when it took several times to get through and for someone on the other end to pick up.
When it did it was not the familiar ring tone of Trevor's phone or even his pre-recorded voice message: instead, it was another voice entirely. "You've reached Trevor Poole's number. I am very sorry that he can't come to the phone right now because he will be otherwise occupied for the foreseeable future. If you ever want to see him again I would suggest following the clues on the wall."
"We don't know if that's a genuine threat or not. Until we do, let's not make a hasty moves," Ben said.
"We'll get them back. Don't worry, Riley."
"I worry; you brood," gesturing to Abby, "and she plans. That's how this team works."
After a thorough search, they found a note with a series of algorithms coruscating across the display on Trevor's laptop with a similar yet slightly different algorithm that Riley had found in the paintings, and with some effort, the discovered that numbers corresponded roughly with the coordinates on a map, specifically, Amsterdam.
"This is either way too easy, or this guy wants us to find him," Ben remarked.
"Or he's leading us into a trap and is just using Trevor and Molly," Abby opined.
"If that's the case, they might still be alive," Riley sighed.
"And just how are we going to get to the Netherlands?" Ben asked.
"I have a friend I can call, pull a few strings, and we can on the red-eye flight to the Netherlands in no time," Abby replied with a confident grin.
*********
Encounter
"I've never been to Amsterdam," Abby mused, but it's always been one of the items on my bucket list. I wonder if we should go on from here on foot or rent one of the water-taxis."
"Why?" Ben demanded, it had been a long plane ride and he had never been able to really sleep during a flight and he was feeling more than a little testy.
For his part, Riley had slept but restlessly as his subconscious keep replaying over and over all the terrible things that he could be happening right now to his siblings.
"Most of the city is built along with a design of interconnected canals and streets. It would be easy to become lost around here, and the clues are based on the proverbs painted almost two centuries ago by an Old Dutch Master."
"Okay, that makes sense," Ben replied.
*****
Meanwhile
Truth be told, he had been feeling the urgency of this face-to-face tete-a-tete much more than he had let on.
Sustaining the anger that had fueled and sustained him through every step of planning and researching into Benjamin Gates and Riley Poole and their friends and family were, had only been step one.
Step two had been managing to inveigle his way into the National Archives and hide the message and for Gates' wife to call Gates and company and for them to find the clues hidden within those paintings and leaving the message at the Poole's brother's house. Getting both siblings had simply been an unexpected yet not totally incalculable bonus. After all, if he did the math correctly, two hostages were better than one.
It was a beautiful, mathematical plan worthy of the greatest minds around the planet. His old mentor and friend would have been proud of his protege, or he would have been if only he had been still around to see the final execution of his plan come to fruition. Cort Bram smiled, and it was a predatory one.
Step three; well, that was about to commence. They should be arriving any minute now.
The place looked, felt and smelled like nobody had been there in ages; but looks could be deceiving.
"Welcome, Welcome. A man with a deep baritone voice said as they penetrated deeper into the maze of pallets and aisles and cardboard boxes that lined the cavernous seemingly unused warehouse.
"It's about time. I expected you much earlier than this." His deep voice was cultured and with an accent that neither Ben nor Riley could immediately place.
"Look, I get the distinct impression that we're expected. let Molly and Tyler go and we can discuss whatever is you want like civilized people,' Ben said. "No one has to get hurt here."
"If I wanted them dead they would be. Have you ever played the sport of kings? No? Yes? Everyone knows that in chess the pawns go first," Cort replied.
Abby stepped forward "Look, I don't care who you are, but you've kidnapped two American citizens, and if you let them go now I have contacts with Interpol. I can arrange a deal so everyone walks out of this. It's a win-win."
"Abby! Ben hissed. "Will you let me handle this?"
"No, Ben. Your good, but this is a delicate situation...."
"Trouble in paradise," Cort mocked.
"No!" Abby and Ben said almost at the same time. Riley smiled but it was short-lived.
"This was never about the hostages, and now that they've served their purpose they will be set free, but it's according to my time-table, not yours," Cort Bram replied.
"Why you smug bastard!" Ben shouted.
"Temper, Temper, Mr. Gates," Cort chided the impulsive man, Did you not learn anything from your dealings with my mentor?"
"Mentor? I don't know what you're talking about. Wait, Chess, famous paintings, relics. "Oh, you're talking about "Him"!
"Ah, yes, he who shall not be named. Apparently you did not know him as well as you thought."
"What do you want? Riley interjected, he had wanted to immediately rush into the proverbial lion's den and find Trevor and Molly and rescue, however, he realized that over-exuberance could be as harmful as inaction.
Instead, he had adopted a wait-and-see position, still, his fingers twitched were they rested inside the pockets of his slacks and the muscles of his jaw clenched with fear for both his siblings' safety and those of his friends.
"Ah, Mr. Poole, I had almost forgotten about you," Cort said as if he were seemingly able to read his mind, tapping the side of his own left temple as he did so.
"As I stated earlier your brother and sister are merely pawns. If you all had come rushing into my inner sanctum like bulls in a china shop I might have been tempted to retaliate and simply killed them right then and there; instead I will let them go."
"Thanks," Riley grunted under his breath.
"Yes, Yes. As for you, Mr. Gates, the price was going to be the slow destruction of everything you hold dear. your family, friends, your work and reputation as a relatively renowned crypto analyst."
"And now?" Ben demanded.
"Now, I simply want to take your life. Is that so much to ask?" Cort Bram stated as he pulled a silver-handled derringer out of the lining of his double-breasted suit jacket that would not have been out of place in a Parisian salon. He cocked back the handle and pointed directly at Ben Gates. Abby bumped into Ben purposely and began to pull out her own sidearm and knock Ben out of harm's way.
As this was happening, Riley could not hold on any longer. The emotions that had been roiling within him for a long time came bursting out.
"NO!" Riley screamed.
"You shot him? I didn't know you knew how to fire one of those things."
"There's a lot about me you don't know, Ben."
"Where did you learn?" Abby asked curiously.
"I know you don't like to talk about it or even acknowledge it, Ben. but Ian was not such a bad guy. He taught me."
"Riley! Why did you keep this from me!"
Riley shrugged. "I just felt like you've been in major denial about Ian and the stuff with your family. So, I figured if we were going make this ah, treasure-hunting adventuring a semi-regular thing I should learn how to protect myself and others."
"Don't be mad at him, Ben," Abby interjected. "He has a point."
"What point?" Ben demanded.
"About you being angry and in denial, and about needing to be able to protect himself. He's not a kid anymore, and you should learn to give him more credit."
Ben threw his hands in the air. Fine! Fine!"
"Abby, please check on Trevor and Molly. make they're okay," Riley asked.
"We're okay. We never saw more of him once we were brought here, and always kept wore a mask whenever he did come by," Trevor said.
"He kinda gave me the impression that he was some sort of criminal mastermind, with a major affectation, like the Phantom of the Opera," Molly added.
"What about tall and dark and wicked down here," Ben asked as he gave the unconscious and tied up villain lying prone and tied up with rope on the concrete floor of an abandoned warehouse where they had found the kidnapper and his supply of stolen and doctored artworks; and his captives.
"Riely and Ben can you carry him, otherwise, I'll call the local authorities, and when he wakes up we can question him."
"Our friend here went to a lot of trouble to not only gain access to those artworks that are held in the National Archives but also to led us to them."
The man began to stir and tried to stand up but only managed to get part of the way and fell back down.
"Let's go home," Abby said.
"Riley," Trevor offered. "Are you okay, bro?"
"I will be," Riley replied, turning to Ben. "I, I don't what got into me. I just had to do something. Surely you understand that?
"I, do. I just took me by surprise. Abby even told to me in no uncertain terms that I was making a mistake treating you like a kid, and I'm sorry," Ben offered, awkward and sweat beading his swallow skin and the lines around his dark eyes even more pronounced. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound so harsh. Can you forgive me?"
Riley ran his hands through his tousled hair and let out a huff of breath, "God, aren't we a pair, and if add one plus one plus one and get three, that makes three."
"Hey, I'm standing right here," Abby mock-protested.
"Of course I can, you horse's' behind. If you can forgive me for losing my shit."
"If you ask me, which no one did," Molly piped not wanting to be left out. "You're both jerks, but we're all family, so it's cool."
"Yeah, like she said," Trevor added. "Now let's get the hell out of here and go home."