Homeport

and nephews were a great source of delight and amusement for him. He took pleasure in spoiling them outrageously as often as possible. But children tended to be a distraction during work hours. Ryan was very much at work.
    The guards were unobtrusive, but there were plenty of them. He noted their stations, and judged by one uniform’s surreptitious glance at his watch that they were nearing change of shift.
    He appeared to wander aimlessly, stopping here and there to study a painting, a sculpture, or a display of artifacts. In his mind he counted off paces. From the doorway to the camera in the southwest corner, from the camera to the archway, from the archway to the next camera, and from there to his goal.
    He lingered no longer in front of the display case than any art lover might when studying the rare beauty of a fifteenth-century bronze. The bronze David was a small jewel, young, cocky, slender, his sling whipped back at that historic moment of truth.
    Though the artist was unknown, the style was Leonardo’s. And as the plaque indicated, it was assumed to be the work of one of his students.
    Ryan’s client was a particular fan of Leonardo’s, and had commissioned for this particular piece after seeing it in the Institute six months before.
    Ryan thought his client would be very happy, and sooner rather than later. He’d decided to move up his own schedule. It was, he thought, wiser to move along, and away before he made a mistake with Miranda. He was already feeling a little sorry that he would cause her some inconvenience and annoyance.
    But, after all, she was insured. And the bronze was hardly the best piece the Institute possessed.
    If he was choosing for himself, he’d have taken the Cellini, or perhaps the Titian woman who reminded him of Miranda. But the pocket-sized bronze was his client’s choice. And it would be an easier job than either the Cellini or the Titian.
    Due to his own unplanned reaction to Miranda, he’d spent a productive hour or two, after taking her home and changing out of his dinner suit, in the tube-sized crawl space beneath the Institute. There, as he’d already known, was the wiring for the building’s security system. Alarms, cameras, sensors.
    All he’d needed was his laptop and a little time to reset the main to his personal specifications. He hadn’t diddled with much. Most of the work would be done in a few hours, but a few judicious changes would make his job easier in the long run.
    He completed his measurements, then, following his schedule, executed the first test. He smiled at the blue-haired lady, edging just past her group. With his hands in his pockets, he studied a shadowy painting of the Annunciation. Once he had the small mechanism in hand, he ran his thumb over the controls until he felt the proper button. The camera was directly to his right.
    He smiled at the Virgin when he saw, out of the corner of his eye, the tiny red light on the camera blink out.
    God, he loved technology.
    In his other pocket, he depressed the stem of a stopwatch. And waited.
    He judged nearly two minutes passed before the nearest guard’s walkie-talkie beeped. Ryan clicked the stopwatch again, unjammed the camera with his other hand, and strolled over to study the sad and baffled face of Saint Sebastian.
    More than satisfied, Ryan walked out of the gallery and stepped outside to use his cell phone.
    “Dr. Jones’s office. May I help you?”
    “I hope you can.” The wifty little voice of Miranda’s assistant made him grin. “Is Dr. Jones available? Ryan Boldari calling.”
    “One moment, Mr. Boldari.”
    Ryan stepped back out of the wind while he waited. He liked the look of downtown, he decided, the variety of architecture, the granite and the brick. He’d passed a dignified statue of Longfellow in his wanderings, and found that it and the other statues and monuments added to an interesting city.
    Perhaps he preferred New York, the pace and the demand there. But he didn’t think he’d mind spending a bit more time right here. Some other time, of course. It was never wise to linger long after a job was completed.
    “Ryan?” Her voice sounded slightly breathless. “Sorry I kept you waiting.”
    “I don’t mind. I’ve just taken a busman’s holiday and wandered through your galleries.” Best that she know, as it was likely they’d be reviewing tapes the following day.
    “Oh. I wish you’d told me you were coming. I’d have taken you around myself.”
    “I