Page 12 of Maximus

Max knelt and started reversing out the screws she hadn’t done. “Definitely Chinese. From Beijing.” He pointed to a line of characters. “Handle with Care. Fragile.”

He went back to the task of removing the crate’s cover. Elena wondered if there was anything the man didn’t know. When he’d removed the last one, she handed him a small crowbar, and he carefully pried the cover away from the base. He easily transported the heavy top to the far wall and leaned it there.

Elena carefully untaped and removed the plastic-covered sprayed foam wrapped around the painting. She knew Max came up behind her as she stared at the painting. It was another fake: new paint, canvas, not wood, no cracks from age, no dulling of the colors.

“Ah …”

She looked up to see Max rubbing the back of his neck. “You do realize that is …”

She sank back, sitting on her heels. “An unmitigated disaster.”

“I was going to say fake, but yes, that, too. The original belongs to a Chinese billionaire.”

She nodded and then sighed, probably more heavily than she should have. “I don’t know why he does this.”

“This has happened before?”

“Occasionally. I have a place for these, but I need to email my employer first.”

“I can finish unpacking this for you while you send your email.”

“You don’t mind?” She wasn’t worried in the slightest about leaving him alone with the painting. First, he was a foremost authority, and second, the painting wasn’t worth the canvas someone had painted it on.

“Not at all.” He turned to finish removing the foam packing.

“I’ll be right back.” She entered her code into the electronic lock and returned to the office. It took a moment to compose herself to send the email.

>>The delivery from China arrived today.

His response came immediately.

>>>>Put it with the others.

She sighed but sent another message back to him.

>>Then you are aware it is worthless?

The email pinged back seconds later.

>>>>It is not worthless to me. Store it with the others.

She acknowledged his instructions and signed out of the email system. When she returned to the delivery bay room, Max was casually leaning against the workbench with a befuddled look. He shook his head as she walked in.

“What?” she asked.

“I’m trying to find a logical reason for buying a fake.” Max gestured to the painting leaning against the wall as he spoke.

“I have no idea, but he knew it was fake when he purchased it and sent it here. He just told me to store it with the others.”

“Well, good, at least he answered. I worked through lunch, so my stomach thinks my throat has been cut.”

Elena blinked and then laughed. “I haven’t heard that saying in a long time.”

“It’s an accurate description for me today.” Max walked over to the painting and lifted it. “I think the frame is worth more than the painting.”

“I don’t doubt it. Are you sure you’re okay to carry it? I have a cart.” She pointed to the cart she normally used to transport the priceless paintings from the delivery bay to the vaults.

He picked it up and hefted it a couple of times. “It’s far heavier than it looks, but I have it. Lead the way.”

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