The Raven (The Florentine #1)(27)
Author: Sylvain Reynard

Yesterday, she’d been relegated to errand runner, while on this day, she’d been sent to the head archivist and told to follow her instructions. Someone else was sitting in her chair in the restoration lab, holding her brushes and carefully covering part of the surface of Botticelli’s masterpiece with protective varnish.

Professor Urbano assured her she would be the one to apply the second and third coatings after Anja Pahlsmeier, a postdoc from Berlin, had completed the first. He was unwilling to interrupt the work she’d begun in Raven’s absence. Or so he said.

Raven tried very hard not to be resentful, and failed.

The head archivist tasked her with organizing the printed and digital scientific reports the restoration team had done on the Birth of Venus. Then she was supposed to scan the printed reports and send all the digital files to Patrick, so he could input them into the archives’ database.

The archivist had instructed Raven to familiarize herself with the files on the restoration of Primavera and to organize the new files in the same way. Raven was scrolling through the radiographs of Primavera, when she noticed something.

Radiographs are photographs taken by an X-ray machine, and they reveal details about a painting that aren’t visible to the naked eye. In this case, Raven’s attention was drawn to the radiographs that revealed the pentimenti, or outlines of the various figures Botticelli had drawn before he began to paint.

When she enlarged the radiograph of the figure of Mercury, she noticed something surprising. Originally, Botticelli had sketched him with shorter hair.

Raven had spent a lot of her own time studying Primavera and its restoration before she began working on the Birth of Venus. No one had ever commented on this particular change in Mercury’s appearance or why Botticelli had lengthened his hair.

Puzzled, Raven clicked on another file, which featured an infrared reflectograph of the same image. In the reflectograph, the layers of paint were visible. It was clear that Botticelli had not only adjusted the length of Mercury’s hair, he’d changed the color as well, darkening the strands.

Mercury was blond.

She sat back in her chair, staring at the computer screen.

On one level, her discovery was unremarkable. Artists in general, and Botticelli in particular, made changes to their paintings as they worked. Other changes to the original design of Primavera had been noted by the restoration team in their reports. But Raven couldn’t recall anyone mentioning the changes made to Mercury’s hair.

Curious, she scrolled through some of the written documents the restoration team had prepared. It took her some time to do so, but her investigation corroborated her suspicion. No one seemed to have noticed the change in Mercury’s hair and this was very, very surprising given the fact that the change was obvious on a close inspection of the radiographs.

Lost in thought, Raven opened a digital copy of the finished painting and enlarged it, focusing on Mercury’s head and shoulders. Then she switched to the radiograph.

She tried to imagine what Mercury would have looked like withshorter blond hair.

Discoveries such as this one could help an art historian make her career. But before she wrote a paper announcing her discovery to the world, she had to study the reports more carefully. And she had to be sure no one had written on this subject before.

Peering over her shoulder to be sure she wasn’t being watched, Raven surreptitiously removed a flash drive from her backpack and quickly copied the relevant images. She could barely contain her excitement, her leg jiggling back and forth.

She’d just transferred the flash drive to the zippered pocket of her backpack when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

“Are you okay?” A voice addressed her in English.

She jumped in her chair and let out a loud expletive.

“Shhh!” the archivist hissed from her desk, which was across the room. She glared at Raven over the rims of her glasses.

Raven nodded meekly before looking up into the guilty eyes of her friend Patrick.

He mouthed a quick “Sorry.”

“What are you doing?” she whispered, quickly closing the files that she’d opened on the computer.

“I came to ask you the same question.” He nodded at the computer screen.

Raven glanced at the archivist, then at her friend.

“It may be nothing.”

Patrick’s gaze moved to the archivist as well before he spoke. “Gina wants you to come over to have dinner with us tonight.”

Raven looked over at their mutual friend, Gina, who was working on the other side of the room. She waved.

“So it’s official? You’re an ‘us’?”

Patrick grinned. “Yeah.”

“I’m happy for you. I’d love to have dinner with you both, but I have to pick up a few things after work.”

“That’s all right. Do you have your Vespa?”

“It’s waiting for me at the shop.”

“I’ll take you to pick it up after work and we can meet at Gina’s later. Okay?”

“Thanks.” Raven smiled.

Patrick picked up a piece of paper and scribbled a few words. He left the paper next to her computer before returning to his desk.

Raven glanced at his writing.

You forgot about the cameras.

“Shit!” she muttered.

She crumpled the paper and shoved it into her backpack.

She looked around the room, trying not to appear obvious as she located the security cameras in the four corners.

She’d been so excited about her potential discovery, she’d forgotten about them. Now the gallery had footage of her downloading files to a personal storage device without permission. It was a serious offense. And, given her recent circumstances, she doubted Dottor Vitali would be lenient.

She looked over at Patrick, who shook his head. He seemed just as worried as she.

He picked up his cell phone and began typing.

A few seconds later her phone chimed with a text.

What r u doing?

Raven quickly answered him.

Forgot about the cameras.

She could hear Patrick’s huff of disapproval from across the room.

Raven turned to look at the archivist, but she seemed preoccupied by her own work.

Raven’s phone chimed again.

You need to be more careful.

She couldn’t disagree. She was about to type a suitably contrite response when the telephone on the archivist’s desk rang.

As if in slow motion, she turned around.

The archivist was nodding and agreeing to something. When she finished her short conversation, she waved Raven over.