Chapter 26 - Pictures that speak numbers

Dear Readers

Many of you asked if The Virgin with Daises is a real painting. It is not. It is only my imagination, however limited. If I have two inspiration to thank, they are Van Gogh's Sunflowers and Starry Nights. But Van Gogh will not appear from the dead to chop off my ears for plagiarism, for not even he, the great Van Gogh himself, owns the concepts of the color royal blue, and flowers.

Enjoy

SJ

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Martha knocked on the door. Khushi wiped her tears and stood up. ASR signaled her to sit down and gave her a quick squeeze. She was thankful he was with her.

“Ah! Dinner is served. Why don’t you join us downstairs? Everyone’s here and wants to meet Sarah’s child.” Martha smiled drawing darkening her ruddy cheeks.

She stepped in to the room and inspected the open truck. “Well, I hope you got a chance to look through Sarah’s belongings. It was really heartbreaking. They loved each other you know. But he had to leave. And she never told him she was….you know…expecting you.”

Khushi labored to ask the one gnawing question she had, “How did Sarah die?”

Martha looked very uncomfortable. She smiled and tried to change the subject, “We will have time for all that later. First, you must eat something.” She injected a false cheer into the gloomy room.

Khushi reached out and held Martha’s hand. “Please Aunty Martha. I want to know.”

Martha exhaled and settled on the bed. She shook her head as if deciding the level of details she ought to tell the eager daughter. And then she nodded as if coming to a definitive conclusion. Her face was red when she looked up at Khushi.

“She died during childbirth.”

Khushi let out a small cry and sat next to Martha.

“I am sorry child, to be the one telling you this. My parents weren’t exactly thrilled about Sarah. She…she got to the hospital too late and there was internal hemorrhaging. I am sorry Khushi, I wish I could have done something for her but I was too young and naïve.” She begged for Khushi’s forgiveness but Khushi was sobbing hard to notice.

Sarah died young, lonely and without a chance to even hold her baby once. She wanted to know if her so called her dad was a soulless man, so she braved her next question, “What about Mahinder? Did he come back for her?”

“Oh Khushi, Mahinder was the best thing that happened to her. Sarah was so happy with him. But he had his own problems. He was married you know. And it was not right for him to fall in love with Sarah, but it happened. And when I wrote to him about Sarah, he was devastated. He was planning to take you with him to India, but something changed. I waited for him at the airport and in those days calling India was not easy. So I assumed he got cold feet. Later, your uncle, Sasi was here and I found out that Mahinder was dead, killed by someone. Sasi told me your life was in danger too and he had instructions from Mahinder to adopt you. I am glad they took you with them. I don’t know if I could have given you a happy life. It’s true.”

Martha’s honest confession didn’t do much to help Khushi. She was sad and furious at her parents. Mahinder and Sarah, young fools who fell in love with the wrong persons at the wrong time. Yet, they loved each other till their last breaths. How love could stand up to such demands escaped Khushi. But then again, those were innocent years, unaffected by the caprice and selfishness that eventually gulfed us as all. She wiped her tears.

“Child, you should not hold it against them. I urge you. They were far too much in love, they didn’t know what they were doing. They were stupid and lovely. They made you. Look at you! You got your mom’s eyes and nose and your dad’s thick glossy hair. You are a perfect reflection of all that was right about them.”

Martha pulled Khushi into a generous hug and rocked her till her breath evened. ASR sat by Khushi and held her hand as she found comfort with one person who knew her mother well. They were thankful for the silence in the room, a tribute to the dead from three souls connected to them in different ways. At that instant, Khushi knew she could not let things loiter for ever. She knew what she had to do.

She announced with renewed clarity in her voice, “I know what I have to do. Aunty Martha, I am sorry I will have to beg your leave and go back to Zurich in the first train tomorrow morning. I have some business to finish making sure my parents’ souls rests in peace.”

Martha looked puzzled, “Why? You must stay for Daniel’s wedding. He’d be disappointed.”

Daniel walked in at that moment with a huge smile, “Did I hear Cousin Khushi wants to leave? I can’t let that happen.”

Khushi stood up and reached for Daniels hands. “Daniel, I don’t have a brother, but if I did, he would look like you. I came to Zurich seeking answers and the sooner I find them, the better it would be for me. I need closure.”

Daniels’ hazel eyes softened with understanding. He squeezed her palms and assured her, “I understand.”

That night Khushi held ASR tight while neither slept a wink. The next day bore heavy on their minds. They had to be at the museum, figure out the painting and if everything went well, access the blood-tainted vaults.

****

A quick word and his unabashed charm were all that took ASR to convince the curator. The hapless old man granted permission to the duo to examine The Virgin with Daisies. There were strict orders that they were not to touch the painting or alter it from its hanging frame, but they were allowed to spend three hours to examine it after the museum closed for public. They were provided a museum magnifying glass and special flashlight that did not deteriorate the painting surface. The waiting hours passed achingly slow for Khushi.

The two took the tour of the museum to stay occupied. They ate a light dinner and loaded on espresso to notch up their alertness for the task ahead. All through the afternoon ASR made sure he did not let Khushi out of his sight, holding her hand tight and walking with her everywhere following her to the women’s bathroom. She gently shoved him out with disapproval.

Strangely, she felt calm and composed. The worst of the truths were out. The deeds of her ancestors, her great grandfather Maharaja Ratan Singh’s indirect yet lethal contribution to the miseries of millions of Jews, Jakub Schwab in particular, could never be forgiven. Mahinder tried to absolve it by compensating Sarah, but ended up hurting her more. Khushi suddenly shivered as she realized it was going to be her onus to right the wrongs of the past. She wasn’t sure if she was ready for it.

“Alright, Mr. Raizada, you have three hours to finish your job here. You should thank Field Museum officials, and that signed letter from Isaacson. How is he by the way?” The elderly curator stood and looked up to ASR who was a good foot and a half taller than the diminutive man.

ASR quickly changed the subject, as he didn’t wish the man to discover Isaacson’s death.

“Thank you!” he nudged ahead and pulled Khushi with him to the room that housed the painting.

“Now remember there are cameras in the room and the guards will be watching you, so please keep your promise.” The old man dropped a veiled warning before he left the two to their devices.

As soon as the old man left the room, ASR whipped out a piece of paper and read aloud.

“Coveted by fair maidens for purity
Peeking from window sills dusted country
Curvy paths seer through crimson virginity
Count me daisies in ones, fours, and fives and twenty
Blue vases caress your plentiful bounty
Ne’er shan’t we forget the ones in blue dainty
Oh lovely virgin with daisies, thee of eternal beauty” 

Khushi held the flashlight for closer examination, while ASR scanned the painting once over with the magnifying glass. He read the poem out again.

“Do you think these numbers in the poem mean anything? Count me daisies in ones, fours and fives and twenty”

As he scanned the painting, he began noticing a clear pattern. The rows of daisies on each side of the red soil path were symmetrical. Each row had one grouping of daisies consisting of single, four, five and twenty daisies each group. The grouping was then repeated through the row, like a stencil pattern. He then counted the number of such grouped stencils throughout the field of daisies to a total of 286 groups.

“286 groupings, each grouping has bunch of daises in 1,4,5, and 20 per bunch”

He read the poem again, “Blue vases caress your plentiful bounty, these Blue vases are also part of the mystery.”

Khushi added, “caress your plentiful bounty, what is the plentiful bounty? In the picture it’s the daisies because the blue vase holds the daisies…”

Before she finished, ASR blurted, “Could it be the vaults? Blue vases caressing the plentiful bounty, what is the bounty? why is the blue vase caressing it? It could be the vaults that hold the plentiful bounty, that is, the spoils and wealth of royals and Nazis. It is probably a symbol of a bank. I wonder if there are banks in the area that use a blue vase or a shape like a blue vase for its insignia.” 

Khushi felt so proud of him that she pulled his head down and kissed him, "I love you, I love you, oh Arnav, I love you." she gushed. They forgot for a second why they were there  in the room as he bent his head to kiss her some more. She cleared her throat and signaled him to the cameras. He smiled and diverted his attention back to the painting.

His head was suddenly muddled as he noticed two things, Khushi had said "I love you" albeit flippantly and two, she called him Arnav whenever she felt close to him. He could burst with joy on the museum floor. He began his inspection with renewed inspiration. 

Khushi took out her IPad and furious typed many combinations of search words she thought would work.

“Blue the color of royalty, banks with blue logos, banks with blue vase logos, banks with blue objects as logos, bluebells, banks named after royalty, Suisse banks” she mumble her search words as she accepted and rejected many search results.

“Bingo!” she almost fell off the bench she was sitting on at her discovery.

“Listen to this, Arnav, Bank Herzog Deutschland Private! Herzog is the title for a Duke in German, dukes and other nobilities revere the color royal blue, and the logo for the bank is a blue vase. What are the odds?” she looked at him.

“It can’t be coincidence, when was this bank established?”

“Right before the war ended, in the late 1940. I think they chose the symbol after Jakub’s painting to connect the codes in the Sabres to the bank’s creation. And look at this!” she turned the IPad to him.

He read out the news item she pointed.

“The bank was recently in some controversy as its owner was murdered under mysterious circumstances. Police investigation found that there were numerous attempts at unauthorized access to purportedly secret vaults in the bank right before the owner was murdered. The police are looking for Mr. Herzog’s secretary, Ms. Becker who has been missing since the death of the banker.”

“Can’t be a coincidence.” ASR repeated.

“Now what?” Khushi asked checking her watch quickly and realizing they had very little time left.

“Lets examine the painting, I have a feeling these numbers lead us to the vault. If so…” he didn’t complete the sentence as it was too much for them to digest in one evening.

“Ne’er shan’t we forget the ones in blue dainty
Oh lovely virgin with daisies, thee of eternal beauty” 

ASR read the words as he scanned the vases closely. Suddenly he froze. There in the vase was another three grouping of 1,4,5 and 20 flowers.

“289, 1,4,5,20”

He took a deep breath and straightened his back, feeling the tension drain out of it. His action caught Khushi’s attention before she got up and rubbed his neck.

“I think we have it.”

“What!” Khushi let out a gasp.

“I think we have the account number to the vault in Bank Herzog." he somberly noted.

"It’s a combination lock with numbers 289 1 4 5 20”