Indiana Jones and the Lost Painting

Chapter 7

"Well, isn't this a surprise. It's been so long!" Aaron Roark said over the phone. The last time Indy had heard his voice, he was an inexperienced twenty-something. Now, it was warped and bent with age. It was hard for him to imagine the young soldier given more responsibility than he could handle on the other end of the line.

"You still remember that train we chased down outside of Heiselberg?"

"Of course. I was scared witless! I still can't believe some of the things I did during the war. Jeeze. Sometimes I think back on those times, and it feels like it happened to a different person."

"It did. It happened to someone inexperienced and dumb enough to throw themselves into the line of fire."

"True enough."

"And you're still the director of the Dayton Art Museum, is that right?"

"I'm the director for another year or two. I'm thinking about an early retirement. Time to let the next generation take over."

"Hitting golf balls and fishing?"

"Hardly. I think I might paint. It has always been a hobby of mine. It's hard to be so close to great artwork and to paint in your free time. No matter what you come up with, it will always pale compared to what's on the museum wall. But who cares. It's fun. It's something of me I can pass down the grandkids. Maybe they will hang my work on their wall next to prints by Monet."

"It's good to hear you're keeping busy."

"It has taken some getting used to. You spend your entire life dedicated to just one thing, in my case art, and it's hard to let it go. It took me some time to understand that you're not letting go completely, just shifting focus. And what about you? Have you retired yet?"

"Oh, yes. A while ago now. I'll admit that the transition has been," Indy took a moment to find the right word, "difficult."

"How long has it been? A year or two?"

"Over a decade."

"Oh. Well, what do I owe the pleasure of the call? I'm sure you didn't call just to reminisce about the so-called good times."

"Sort of. I did want to talk to you about that train outside of Heiselberg."

"It still haunts me that we didn't recover everything. So much of our world's heritage was blown up in that conflict."

"What if I told you, I knew where some of that missing cultural treasure was?"

"First off, I would call you a liar. But then I would ask how you know, because you rarely get two swings on the same pitch."

"I've come across a man who appears to have a Klimt that shouldn't exist. Now, I'm not an art expert, so I'm still in the process of verifying the painting. I wanted to know if you could authenticate a painting from a photograph?"

"No. Not from a photograph. I would need to see the actual artifact."

"That's what I was afraid of."

"But now you've made me curious. What Klimt are we talking about? We lost a number of them during the war. I've always been fascinated by his 'faculty paintings,' each depicting philosophy, medicine, and jurisprudence. Only black and white photographs of the pieces survive."

"It's actually 'The Portrait of Trude Steiner.'"

"That's an incredible painting from what I've seen. It's different from Klimt's famous gold paintings. It has an otherworldly feel to it, like we're peaking behind the veil that separates us from the next world."