The Hypnotist

THIRTY-FOUR

“When the physical organism breaks up, the soul survives. It then takes on another body.”

– Paul Gauguin

Using a strip of 600-grade sandpaper, Charlie Danzinger smoothed the underside of the sculpture’s thigh-length tunic, enjoying the process of putting the finishing touches on his reproduction. This new Hypnos wasn’t an exact replica, since a fair amount of the original sculpture was missing, but he’d based his reconstruction on passages from ancient Greek writings describing chryselephantine sculpture of the day.

Stepping back, he examined the piece. In the past week he’d made a lot of progress. Hypnos was only a few days away from completion, and he shone under the incandescent light. The gold and silver glimmered; the emeralds and rubies sparkled; the onyx, carnelian, lapis and other semiprecious stones gleamed. The Greeks who’d once prayed to this god must have been awestruck by his majesty and opulence.

While he worked, Danzinger listened to classical music, but the two brisk knocks that came one after another were loud enough to hear over the Chopin.

“Come in.”

Tyler Weil, Deborah Mitchell and Nicolas Olshling walked in, followed by the FBI agent Danzinger had met last week. The restorer’s heartbeat kicked up. Other than Marie, he wasn’t used to people coming here and didn’t like it. This area of the museum was out of the way and except for the other people in the department, there were so rarely interruptions. And Danzinger liked that. Interruptions made him nervous. So did change. Working on timeless art was soothing. Fixing things and making them whole again made him feel whole. Almost.

“We need your help-” Weil began without preamble, but then stopped to look at the sculpture-not the original, but the reproduction. The other two men with him did the same. Even though they’d seen it the week before, Danzinger could tell they were impressed and was pleased that his work elicited this reaction, especially from the director.

A great majority of ancient Greek and Roman sculptures had originally been highly ornamented and bedecked, but what had survived was stripped by time of its adornments and dulled down by the ages. People who didn’t know that were often shocked by the replicas that looked almost garish in comparison to the pale museum pieces. If the original Hypnos was a showpiece, the reproduction was an extravaganza.

“That sure is something,” Olshling said, understating the obvious.

“You’ve done a marvelous job,” Weil said and gave a long, deep sigh. “I’m afraid this is going to be a very difficult conversation.”

What kind of conversation could Weil possibly have with him that would be difficult? Danzinger listed the possibilities. The most logical would be firing him-but the director of the museum wouldn’t be the one to do that. Even if under extraordinary circumstances that was to happen, there was no reason he’d bring Olshling or Mitchell or the FBI agent with him, unless they suspected him of something illegal. Danzinger’s heart started to pound again even though he knew he was an exemplary employee.

“Let’s sit down, can we?” Lucian asked, nodding at a table covered with books and art supplies in the corner of the large studio.

As Olshling sat he nudged a small box of rubies that fell to the floor. The stones rolled, bloodred against the white tiles.

“I’m sorry,” the head of security said with concern as he bent and started to retrieve them.

“It’s okay. They’re just paste,” Danzinger explained as he got on his knees and helped.

“Should have realized you wouldn’t have a cup of valuable stones sitting out in the open like that,” Olshling said as he dropped them back into their container.

“So how can I help you?” Danzinger was anxious to find out what this was all about.

“What we’re going to tell you is highly confidential,” Lucian warned.

“I told Agent Glass you’ve been with the museum for over fifteen years and everyone here has the highest regard for you and your work,” Weil said.

“Thanks.” Now that he knew he wasn’t being fired or worse, Danzinger relaxed a bit.

“We’re going to need you to do some more work on the Hypnos.” Lucian looked from the reproduction to the original, which stood in the opposite corner of the studio, carefully out of the traffic path. “How long will it take you to make the copy resemble the original?”

“The copy? I’m not sure I understand.”

“You know about the four paintings we’re being offered in exchange for the sculpture?” Weil asked.

Danzinger nodded. “Of course.”

“Well, we’re going ahead with the trade. We’re going to give the Monster the Hypnos. Those paintings are important masterpieces-we have to do what we can to save them.”

Looking from the director to the original sculpture and back to his beautiful reproduction, Danzinger realized what they were asking of him. They wanted to make the copy look like the original and then make the trade with the copy. He felt as if he were hearing about a death in his family.

“I can’t destroy it,” he blurted out.

Weil looked at him with surprise. “I know how hard you worked on it, Charlie, but we need you to do this.”

Danzinger didn’t trust himself to talk. Not right away. He concentrated on his breathing and then keeping his emotions in check answered the question. “I’m sorry. I can probably get it to the state you want it in less than a week.”

“Good. You have three days,” Lucian said. “But it doesn’t have to be perfect. From what I understand, other than a half-dozen people who work here at the museum, no one has seen Hypnos since sometime in the 1890s, and there’s only one photograph from back then, which is in even worse condition than the sculpture. Right?” He looked at Weil and Mitchell, who both nodded.

Danzinger stood quickly, not taking his eyes off his…off the sculpture he’d been working on for six months. His life was restoration. Even though the Hypnos he’d created was just a copy, it was still going to be the most difficult assignment the museum had ever given him. “If I only have three days…” His voice wavered. He cleared his throat. “I’d better get started.”

Of all of them, Lucian was the one who seemed the most sympathetic to what the restorer was facing. Before he left, he stopped and put a hand on Danzinger’s shoulder. “It’s a shame. You’ve created something astounding. I wish there was another way for us to do this.”