Whoever Did It

2

I stopped a few seconds later; the soles of my shoes squealed, absorbing my kinetic energy.

What the hell am I doing?!

Here, in the hall, there were cameras and sensors everywhere. The police will analyze whatever was recorded before the incident, but also after it. The AI will pick on anything even remotely suspicious, such as a panicking human being. As a Quantum Archaeologist, I should know that whatever happens in the past, resonates forever. The waves become more and more faint, but they never vanish, and if you study them, you are able to trace back the event that originated the ripple.

In the case of Banksy's mural I had my suspicions about the inciting event. I was actually pretty sure who had stolen it. It didn't take a scientist to connect the dots and the picture that emerged could be entitled "A Handsome Thief and a Naive Idiot".

The Idiot being me... Why did I take the keycard with me yesterday? I should've left it here. And now I must do something to sort this mess out myself...

No! The only thing I should do was to go back to the police officers and confess. That I got drunk last night and someone must have duplicated my keycard, which he or she later used to enter the Institute, steal the mural and erase all the evidence.

It was a rational thing to do, but somehow I continued walking away from Emma Arlamov's office. I slowly went downstairs, almost humming a tune that would show how relaxed I was, but I realized the surveillance cameras didn't record sound. When I stepped into my room, I closed the door behind me and called Malik.

"Hi, do I know you?" he answered quickly. The holo of his dark, handsome face illuminated the room.

"Yes!" I yelled. "We hooked up last night."

"Relax...' he laughed. 'Of course I remember, I'm just teasing you, sexy. What's up? Missing me already?"

I snickered, probably in an attempt to vent off.

"Yeah, listen... About last night..."

I paused, suddenly lost for words. Should I just confront him about the mural? I looked through the window. It was snowing, but there was no wind whatsoever so big white flakes were just falling down in total silence.

"What's going on?" Malik suddenly sounded serious and concerned.

Nice act, I thought. He must know why I was calling him.

It was not easy to confront him and accuse him, or even hint at it. But I knew I was right. It would be too much of a coincidence if the guy I met for the first time last night wouldn't be responsible for the disappearance of a priceless artefact at my work the very next day. Especially that there was some alcohol involved, and I had a blackout.

It was not hard to figure out the most likely scenario...

"That's fucked up." said Malik after I told him about the stolen mural and police officers at the Institute.

"Yeah..."

"Sorry to hear that. But why should you worry?"

He did not join the dots. Or rather pretended not to. So I had to do it for him, trying to be as diplomatic as possible.

"Seriously?!" he yelled before I finished. "You think that I stole it? What the fuck?"

Despite my efforts, he was hot and bothered. It was ugly. His voice high-pitched. I liked him more when he was just hot.

"How dare you?" he shouted. "Jeez, and I was super nice to you. And I gave you great sex. Your words, not mine."

He was about to hang up, which would leave me with nothing.

"Listen, Malik..." I mumbled. "I'm sorry. That's how scientists operate. We form a hypothesis and we try to falsify it. So basically, I'm not accusing you..."

"You're not a scientist!" he interrupted me. "Jesus, even my dog liked you!"

"Well, in a way I am a scientist, because Quantum Archaeology is not just archaeology, there is this scientific part about it, you know. Coding the computers..."

"Just shut up, you asshole." he hissed. "How could you... I didn't even know about any fucking painting of yours."

"Technically it's a mural, not a painting, and - again technically - it's not mine. But I think I told you we had a real Banksy..."

"Not that I recall."

Gotcha... - I thought. Of course we talked about the Futuroboros. We did, before I was too drunk to remember. And, actually, I realized with horror, I didn't drink that much, surely not enough to have a blackout. What if Malik spiked my wine?

"We were together all the time," said Malik and he still sounded hurt. "Whole night. So how could you even think I stole your fucking mural?!"

I could have answered with one word: accomplices. But I bit my tongue.

What was I thinking, steering this conversation into the worst possible direction? If Malik really had to do something with it, I shouldn't have tipped him off. Now any advantage I had, was lost.

High time I started using my intelligence. Be less like a lion and more like a cunning fox.

"OK, OK, I'm sorry, didn't want to upset you, just wanted to... You know... Share this shitty day with you..."

"Oh really?"

"Yeah... But... Let's change the subject. Where are you?" I asked.

"At work. Where else would I be?"

"So you know what? Let's grab lunch. I need a nice moment... With a nice guy..."

He hesitated. I've always been a poor liar and terrible at manipulating people.

"I'll tell you more about what's happening here." I went on. "Just can't do it on the phone. You know, people are listening..."

Maybe that will work for him? If he is complicit, he should be interested to know what I know, what the police know. He will want to use me as a source of information.

"OK..." he still sounded offended, but also eager, which seemed to confirm my suspicions.

I heard knocking and the door opened.

"Just text me, when and where..." I said quickly. "Gotta go."

The police officers entered the room, while I hung up.

"We want to see the vault now." said the male officer.

Valanti. I suddenly remembered his name.