Whoever Did It

1

"Am I a suspect here?" I asked, looking at two police officers: a woman and a man. They were both in their late thirties and both had stern faces, as if they had been up all night, solving some sordid murder.

"No, of course not..." replied the man, but his tone of voice didn't convince me.

They introduced themselves as soon as they arrived at the Institute, but I forgot his name. It sounded Italian and started with a 'V', I think. The female officer's name was easier to remember - Brocken, like in "Brocken specter", that rare optic illusion in the mountains.

"Don't worry, Professor Laquan." said the man. "It's just a standard procedure."

"I'm not a professor."

For the first time in my life I was dealing with the police so it was hard to remain calm.

"The only professor in our Institute is Emma Arlamov..." I added. "She is..."

"I know" interrupted the man, checking his notebook. "The artefact was stolen from her office."

Surely, he was doing it on purpose, calling me a professor, while he knew I was merely a PhD candidate, working on my doctorate. Was it a test? Or was he trying to put me off, provoke or intimidate me?

"We're not talking suspects yet," officer Brocken joined the conversation. Her voice was pleasant, almost soothing. "We're here to recover the mural. Find out who did it, of course too. But you realize the value of this artefact, don't you? And I mean money."

I smiled and nodded, but inside I was all shaky. It didn't look good, it didn't look good at all. If I get charged with stealing the goddamn mural, I'll never be able to pay it back, not till the end of my goddamn life.

Sheez...

The title of the mural was Futuroboros. It was a witty take on the mythical snake eating its own tail, attributed to Banksy, one of the most famous artists of the 21st century. Recovered by an archaeological expedition from the ruins of London, it was framed, put behind glass and placed, quite accordingly, at the Quantum Archaeology Institute. A genuine work of art, not some NFT or simulated crap. A rarity.

The police arrived less than an hour after I had reported the Futuroboros stolen. I was the only employee at the Institute this morning. Professor Arlamov and the rest of our academic staff, four people altogether, were away at a conference. Cleaning, maintenance and security were all taken care of by AI systems. I don't suppose Artificial Intelligence can steal an object d'art. Or anything else, apart from your job.

The Institute is located in the outskirts of Reykjavik, in a two story building, made mostly of thick bluish glass that looks like a glacier. It is fenced off, well-guarded and monitored. No alarm went off so sooner or later the finger will point at me, for sure.

Especially that last night... I went rogue...

I welcomed the police officers in the lobby and first we talked in my room that I share with other PhD candidates. I offered them coffee and tea, but they declined. Maybe because I made a silly remark that I didn't have any doughnuts.

Now I took them upstairs, to the crime scene. We stepped into Emma Arlamov's office. It smelled of vanilla because one of her epiphyllums started to blossom.

"Why did you enter her office?" asked Brocken. "This morning, I mean."

"To water her plants. She asked me to do it, while she's away."

"I see... She's at some conference, right?"

"In Shanghai. It's an annual thing... Advances in Quantum Archaeology."

I was looking at the white wall behind the desk. There was no sign whatsoever that the Futuroboros used to hang there. No dusty frame, no variation of color, the thief also stole the magnetic hook. To me the wall looked terribly empty, but only because I was used to seeing the framed mural above Emma's head.

"No cameras in here?" asked the man, taking photographs of the office.

"No, of course not." I gave him a startled look. "Wouldn't it be like... An invasion of privacy?"

"You know... Some people like to record stuff on their own..."

Did he smirk? What was he trying to suggest? I could hardly imagine Emma shooting adult videos. Not in her office. Or, actually, anywhere else. She was also not a paranoid type, recording everything and everyone.

"But there is surveillance outside, actually all over the Institute." I coughed, my throat suddenly dry and itchy. "Halls, the lobby, the road, and of course our magnificent computers..."

"Yes, of course." the female officer frowned. "We secured it all."

Beneath the office building there is a two story vault that hosts 64 quantum computers that we use in our research. They are priceless so naturally they are the pupil of our eye. No unauthorized person can penetrate the vault or any other part of the Institute. But yesterday someone, somehow must have found a way...

"Our AI has already analyzed all the surveillance. No trace of anyone within 24 hours." said Brocken, looking around the office. "Except for you, of course."

She gave me a wry smile and I forced myself to smile back.

"Do you think the footage was... I don't know... Hacked?" I suggested.

"Maybe it was doctored." said the man.

I kept smiling, trying to remember his name. Was it Visconti? Vinci?

"We will run some tests now." he said, dismissing me with a suggestive glance at the door. "To determine this and rule out that, you know..."

"Of course. Just let me know if you need me again."

I slowly walked out of Emma Arlamov's office, but as soon as I closed the door behind me, I started to run.