Escape Velocity

Chapter Twenty-two

The diary sat between us on the sofa, radiating my great-grandmother's spirit. I could see Christina felt it, too.

She said, "Sorry about what happened to her with that Aldo guy. I'm not sure I would've wanted to keep the baby with him as the father. It must have been terrible for her. But now you know definitely. You had a great-aunt Ginevra. She could've found the painting and hung it in her home."

"At this point, I don't even know if the baby lived or if it was Ginevra or turned out to be Giovanni. But I don't know anymore. I barely know my own name at this point."

"We should start searching for Ginevra on one of those genealogy sites," Christina said.

"We?"

Christina ignored my question. She shifted her back against the arm of the sofa and bent her head as she typed on her keyboard. "Today, Dr. Seabron showed us how the nanobes communicate. Well, not how they communicate, because they don't fully understand the mechanism." Christina peeked at me over the top of her laptop. "But we observed them communicating."

"That's cool. Maybe they were trying to communicate with you."

"It's not sophisticated communication, not really. It's more that they're aware of each other over small distances. It's probably an electrochemical signal thingy."

"Thingy? Interesting technical term."

"Fine, I suppose you're any better. Can you describe the nanotube research perfectly? Like a Nobel Prize winner, I suppose."

"Point taken. We are—well, Dr. Brunello is—experimenting with conductivity over larger distances. We have three spools of the stuff now."

"Stuff being a technical term?"

I sat sideways, my legs crossed yoga-style. Joking with Christina felt right, normal even. Digging for clues with her was fun. Especially after fighting to concentrate in the lab earlier when the diary had stuck in my head like one of those relentless song earworms.

Christina began humming and said, "I found a Ginevra Aliberti born in 1943. She immigrated to New York in 1949 with her parents, I guess. When did your great-grandmother come to the US?"

"Right after the war. I doubt that will be her."

"Let's not toss it out yet. Have you found anything?"

"I'm on the National Gallery of Art website. Remember Ms. Tyson talked about it, that they own the real portrait of Ginevra de' Benci."

"Or so you think. What if the painting at the National Gallery is her reproduction and the original is in a secret hiding place? What if she faked everybody out? What if..."

"You keep this up, and I'll decide you're one of those conspiracy nuts," I said.

"I'm just saying, your great-grandmother may have switched the paintings, kept the real one, and it's in a box in your grandparents' attic."

"You really are a nut. She didn't keep either of them. But if the one she planned to send to the US was the real one..."

"Exactly," Christina said, emphasizing the point with an arched eyebrow.

"No." I shook my head. "No way. She wouldn't have done that. She would have made sure it was seen, not stuffed away in some box. Besides, the National Gallery has experts who'd know."

"I saw a documentary about how art experts are fooled all the time. Even at big museums."

I stood. "Hold on. No way there is a multi-million-dollar painting in my grandparents' house. No way."