Collision with destiny

“Nature is at work. Character and destiny are her handiwork. She gives us love and hate,
jealousy and reverence. All that is ours is the power to choose which impulse we shall follow.”
David Seabury

Diana laughed and swatted him lightly on the arm before sliding her hand through the crook of his elbow.

As they approached the house, Mart spied a small outbuilding nestled in the trees close to the side of the house. “Hey, what’s that?” He pointed toward the building.

“I don’t know. Let’s take a quick peek,” Diana replied and the pair headed to the building. Diana turned the knob and pulled. The door opened easily. Inside, a pair of snowmobiles took up most of the available floor space. Shelves cluttered with tools and other odds and ends ran around the room at eye-level. “Boy, the caretaker is pretty trusting to leave this unlocked with such valuable equipment inside.”

“Really, though, who the heck is going to travel all this way just to steal a couple of snowmobiles?” Mart questioned.

“I guess you’re right at that. Come on, let’s go find ourselves a Rembrandt.”

They caught up with Max and Natasha, who were waiting at the door of the chalet. Max laughed at Natasha’s obvious impatience to begin their search. Natasha turned to Mart, her cheeks flushed, her green eyes bright with anticipation. The red scarf wound around her throat set off her dark hair to perfection. She grabbed Mart’s free arm, “This is all very exciting, no? Finally we will find the missing painting. It is time that atonement is made for the sins of the past.”

 “Max, you might want to speak to the caretaker about locking up that shed over there. There are snowmobiles inside and he’s just begging someone to steal them,” Diana commented.

“At least we know we can make a quick getaway if necessary,” Mart joked.

Everyone laughed as Max unlocked the door and they entered the house. Once inside, Max said, “Okay, according to what I was able to understand from Grandfather, the painting is in the cellar and the entrance is near the kitchen.”

The group moved down the long hallway. Mart noticed a cozy living area with a massive stone fireplace and a large dining room as they continued toward the rear of the house. Finding the kitchen at the back of the house, the group spread out to search for the entrance to the basement.

Diana cried out in triumph a few minutes later. She had pulled back an area rug that covered the trap door to the cellar. As the others crowded around her, she pulled the door open and stared down. The cellar did not seem to be too deep, but there was no sign of any light. Diana pushed the folding steps down and started to descend.

Mart stopped her, “Wait! Let me go down first and see if I can find a light.”

“I’m a big girl, Mart. I can handle it.” Diana’s voice was laced with irritation.

“Okay, I was just trying to be chivalrous, but go ahead.”

Diana climbed down the steps with Natasha following closely behind her. Max went next, leaving Mart to bring up the rear. By the time he reached the bottom, Diana had found the string for the only light in the cellar. The weak light cast by the single bulb was not strong enough to penetrate the shadows in the far corners of the room. The dimness of the room created a foreboding atmosphere and Mart shivered slightly. Chastising himself for letting his imagination get the best of him, Mart joined his friends as they debated where to start their search.

“I think we’re going to need more light,” Diana declared. “I have a flashlight in the car. You guys start looking without me. I’ll just run and get it. I’ll be right back.”

Mart looked around the space. It was not a very large space, maybe twenty by twenty, he estimated. There was very little in the way of clutter. He figured it wouldn’t take long to find the painting.

Diana returned victorious from her quest for the flashlight. The powerful beam cut through the shadows. As Diana played the flashlight around the room, the light revealed an old wardrobe in the far corner of the cellar. Mart’s heart raced. Surely it couldn’t be this easy?

Excitedly, the searchers rushed over to the large piece of furniture. Holding the flashlight with one hand, Diana quickly opened the wardrobe with the other. A huge sigh of disappointment sounded when the flashlight revealed that the wardrobe was empty.

“Perhaps it has been stored between the wall and the wardrobe,” Natasha suggested.

“I hope not, the painting could be ruined if it has,” Diana aimed the flashlight into the narrow crevice but there was nothing there.

Diana shined the flashlight around the space again, but there was not another obvious place to store a painting. Turning back to the wardrobe with a thoughtful look, Diana knelt on the floor beside it. Handing the flashlight to Mart, she directed him to shine it on the bottom of the wardrobe. Diana pressed down on the floor of the wardrobe as she moved along the edge.

“Yes!” she exclaimed as she pressed hard on one portion and small section of the wood lifted slightly. Diana pulled a bobby pin out of her hair and eased it under the edge of the raised wood. Using the bobby pin as a lever, she lifted out the false bottom. A small parcel wrapped in canvas rested inside. With trembling fingers, Diana slowly unwrapped it, revealing a portrait of a young girl holding a bouquet of yellow daffodils.

“We did it!” The group celebrated their victory with a round of hugs.

“Let’s get this upstairs so I can get a better look at it,” Diana suggested. She covered the painting with the canvas once again and handed it to Mart. “I hope being in this cellar for so long didn’t damage it beyond repair.”

Natasha climbed up the stairs first and Max followed her. Diana motioned for Mart to go ahead of her. Mart started up the stairs, but stopped suddenly. “Did you hear that?”

Diana had turned to pull the string to turn off the light and when she turned back, she collided with Mart’s back as he stopped. With a sharp cry, Diana fell backwards to the floor of the cellar.

Mart rushed back down the steps to her side. “Di! Are you all right?”

“I twisted my ankle, but I’ll be okay,” Diana replied. “Why on earth did you stop so suddenly?”

“I thought I heard a noise upstairs.” Mart looked sheepish.

Max and Natasha returned to the basement, having heard Diana cry out. Diana reassured them that her ankle was only twisted.

“Those stairs will be hard to climb with an injured ankle,” Natasha observed, “ and I don’t think the stairs are wide enough for the boys to assist you up them. Why don’t you let me retrieve the first-aid kit from the car? If we bind it, you might be able to bear enough weight on it to make it upstairs.”

“No, I’ll be fine. I can get upstairs.”

“Diana, Natasha’s right. Let’s bind your ankle before you try to put weight on it. You could cause yourself a more severe injury otherwise,” Mart lent his support to Natasha’s suggestion, and Max agreed. Diana continued to protest, but finally gave in when she realized she couldn’t win.

Natasha picked up the painting, still wrapped in its protective covering, “I will take this upstairs so it is not damaged further. When we get your ankle bound, you can examine it in a more comfortable location.”

Max and Natasha climbed the stairs once again, leaving Mart to stay with Diana.

“We should hurry to the car and get the first-aid kit. I’m sure that Diana’s ankle is very painful.” Natasha gave Max a little push. “You go ahead to the car and I will meet you once I have put the painting away in the dining room. I think the table there will serve nicely for Diana’s needs.”

Max nodded and hurried toward the front of the chalet. He had just exited the house when the stocky, dark-haired man who had been plaguing them stepped out in front of him, brandishing a small pistol.

“Don’t make any sudden moves and nobody has to get hurt.”

Max stared at the man in astonishment. He caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. Knowing that it had to be Natasha, he warned her, “Stand behind me, Natasha. This man is crazy.”

Natasha walked around Max until she was standing in front of him. To Max’s surprise, Natasha also held a small handgun. To Max’s dismay, her handgun was pointed straight at him.

“What is this?” Max demanded. “What are you doing, Natasha?”

“I am taking what is rightfully mine!” she spat out in disgust. “Your grandfather is my grandfather, too! I should have had all the luxuries that you did. He had an affair with my grandmother and then left her to bear the shame of having a child with no father! He didn’t look for her – he abandoned her with no more thought than he gave to the paintings he pawned off as originals! My grandmother struggled to provide for his child. She married a man she did not love so that my mother would have a home. Still it was not enough! Every day she struggled to make a living because she picked poorly when it came to the man she wed. He was a shiftless, no-good wastrel! She worked her fingers to the bone to make a living and he drank or gambled it all away!”

Max tried to reason with her, “Natasha, my grandfather was captured at the end of the war. He looked for her, but could not find her. If he had known there was a child, he would have gone to the ends of the earth to find her. This I believe with all my heart. Come home with me, and let us tell my grandfather your story. He will recognize you as his grandchild. We can’t make up for the past, but let us make your future better.”

“No! It is too late. Boris and I have already lined up a buyer for this painting. I will have everything I need, and your grandfather will have nothing! He will know what it means to suffer when his only grandson is killed in a terrible accident. Now move,” she commanded.

Max weighed his options. If he made any sudden moves, he had no doubt that either of his foes would hesitate to shoot him. Deciding his best course of action was to comply for the moment, he started walking to the car.

Suddenly pain exploded through his head and then he knew nothing.

Natasha lowered her arm after bashing Max in the head and gave Boris a cold look.

“Tie him up and put him in the car,” she ordered, “and then go get your car. We will make it look as though he lost control of the car and hurtled over the side of the mountain. Then we will finalize the sale of the painting and enjoy being rich for the rest of our lives.”

“What about the two others?”

“I bolted the cellar door. They will not escape. They can stay down there and starve. Maybe people will think Max double-crossed them. Maybe they will wonder if I was his accomplice. What do I care? With the money we get, I can buy a new identity. It is of no consequence what people think happened.”

“I noticed a few other nice pieces in the house. We should go back in and grab them. We can fence them and make some nice dough.”

“We do not have time for such foolishness. Hurry and get your car.”

Boris regarded Natasha evenly. Without a word, he turned and walked into the house.

She charged after him. “Stop!” she screeched. “I told you there is no time for your ridiculous ideas. We have what we came for, now we will leave!”

“No way, doll face. There’s more money to be made on this job and I aim to get every penny I can. You can just wait until I’m done, or you can go ahead and run your boyfriend off the side of the mountain. Either way, I’m not leaving until I’m satisfied there ain’t nothing left that I can make a profit on.”

“You bastard! I said we have to go now! Go get the car!” Natasha’s voice rose in pitch with each word as she became more hysterical.

Boris turned to enter the living room. Incensed, Natasha raised her arm and squeezed the trigger.