"…"
"Sorry" …" What exactly, am I looking at?"
"…"
"The wall"
Escape Agency Block 4. In as many as 6 countries stood an underground storage, home to many intimate art pieces belonging to a certain name. 'Jerome'. Many knew the name, heard the name, spoke the name but never met the man with the name.
"So…", "Why exactly are we staring at this wall?"
The woman in pearls spoke with dissatisfaction.
"It's art Madame" a French man answered
"Don't you see the way the paints blend with the wall, almost like it's a type of form or even- "
She scoffed, putting a stop to any plausible defense before turning to see the face the French man "The art I remember worth praise were the portraits of the wealthy and landscapes of estates and architecture"
From the man, she turned to the painting "But my word what is this" her face twisted, brows wrinkling in irritation and confusion "scrapes and scratches, splash of disoriented colors-an eyesore no less"
"I suggest you walk out the door then" a voice amidst the crowd suggested.
The man stood nonchalantly, yet confident as some heads turned, a few others leaving the scene.
"Excuse me?" the woman turned.
"It's clear you're confused" The man shrugged "Maybe, this isn't the place for you"
"This is an open space, you have no right to tell me where to and to not be"
"You're right" he nodded "And since this is indeed an open space, I believe the rules here include respect of persons" he paused "And items"
The woman turned to him fully, her countenance irritated. "And just who do you think you are to dare speak in such like manner to me, do you in any way know who I am?! "
He stared at her. Quiet, as she spoke loudly enough to attract attention. The silence that fell afterwards was heavier than most could bare before he walked away like nothing happened leaving each and every one speechless.
The woman stood stunned and ashamed while others fled.
At a corner of the building, the man walked towards the exit and met with a congregation of flashing lights and hushed hurriedness as reporters gathered quickly with their cameras and microphones.
"Sir- "they echoed separately while collectively struggling for his attention.
'Nauseating', he thought before throwing on a small smile.
"A pleasure to meet you all" he began "To prevent a disruption of atmosphere, all questions will remain here"
The place grew silent before bursting into a buzzing group.
"A pleasure to finally meet you Mr. Jerome" a young lady stepped forward.
He nodded.
"You have an outstanding report of being private, why reveal yourself now?
He turned to the camera beside her, his gaze steady.
"I want everyone to see my success" he paused "I want them to know that it's me"
For a moment, Jerome stood quiet, certain of exactly what he had said, the agenda and the likely consequences. In that moment, the world seized, his breath slowed with angst and excitement and for once, his smile became true.
"A lovely piece at this gallery, I must say" another man walked up and reached out his hand to him "Such great works from a great man"
Jerome turned to him in a slow moment and they shook hands.
"What inspires such creativity in you?"
He paused in his movements.
"I see patterns" his eyes turned to the camera again.
As the question continued, he knew he had to leave.
"As you may all know, its late and unfortunately past my bedtime" the crowd laughed lightly whilst pushing forward to edge on more questions. He feigned a smile
"Goodnight" he said and walked back into the gallery allowing the security handle the reporters.
Jerome strode across the building, amidst the great many before reaching a corner. Sliding in keys, the door came ajar just enough for him to slip past. Quietly, he shut the door, headed down a short, dim lit corridor before meeting with a staircase that spiraled upwards. Up he went and soon, he landed across a door and with the finger print of his both hands was the door able to open up.
Privacy was a matter of great importance. He knew very quickly how people where able to encroach into spaces they weren't supposed to be.
Stepping into the warm lit room, he was met with a cold air of massive space. This was his room and office, a place of both rest and work, pleasure and business.
Jerome was a minimalist in sense of taste, not something he usually termed himself to take pride in but he knew how withdrawn he was to his atmosphere so much so that attachment to a singular space was ludicrous and ridiculous to him. 'Get in- and Get out'. Only he knew what it took to gain the presence, the man with the name. Only he knew what 'Jerome' meant.
At a corner of his office, stood a large squared screen displaying different locations of the gallery and at different angles. In the cold of the silence, a piercing buzz echoed from his phone.
"Hmm?"
"Evening Jerome, how do you do?"
"Alright, you?"
"Just fine"
A quick pause.
"Your presence is required in my office"
Another pause.
"Some documents came in and we need to discuss it with great urgency, so how about 8:00 am prompt?"
"…", "Tell me now"
"It cannot be discussed over the phone, unfortunately"
"8:00" Jerome cut the line, took a shower and laid down on a couch at the corner of the room.
Jerome sunk into the comfort of the Italian chair. It took him a short while to realize, he was probably at a loss. The office housed shelves of antiques, documents, books in disarray, a combination of passion and habit. This was indeed the room of a lawyer.
The door flung open and a man walked in.
"Good day sir, my sincerest apologies"
"Luther" Jerome called softly, putting a pause to any hurriedness in the man. "It's 8:00"
The man turned to the clock on the wall, chuckled, then back at Jerome who now sat in an honest smile.
Luther took a seat behind his desk and their smiles faded. Business.
"A declaration has been made over your assets Sir"
Silence filled the room, Luther took a light glance at Jerome before continuing. "The government has taken over your assets and expect compliance to resolve the issue, thereby putting a stop to your activities in regards to the business"
The man pulled out a drawer, took up a file, one with a significant seal and color. Upon drawing out an A4, he continued.
"We regret to inform you that The Escape Agency, a gallery of the renowned artisan Jerome who we recognize as Jeremy Lutman situated at these respective locations; Poland, Spain, Rome, France and California known to be housing a total of One thousand and eighty four (1,084) art pieces has now been taken account of and confiscated officially by the Government, putting a halt to its activities and the activities of the artist to draw utmost attention to the urgency of the situation preceding in the Lutman household of the processing of the Lutman Government Ledger. Our deepest and sincerest apologies to any inconvenience this has caused"
Luther put the A4 down and stared at Jerome. In his eyes, he saw a young man who sat in quiet anger but in some way wasn't as shocked as he supposed to be.
The room sat still and cold. The news heavy.
Luther leaned forward on his desk "This reached my office last night" he paused "This only means that any activity of the business will be termed illegal" he paused again, understanding the situation "We can have a discussion with the Secretary of State, what do you think Sir?"
The room grew cold again, Jerome nodded, it was clear what he had to do.