Homeport

slides, and the small hand tools of her trade. A tape recorder had been provided for detailing notes. There was no window, only the one door, and with the four of them inside, barely room to turn around.
    But there was a chair, a phone, and the pencils were sharpened. It would do, she thought, very well.
    She set her briefcase on the counter, then the metal box. Carefully, she removed the wrapped bronze. “I’d like your opinion, Dr. Hawthorne. Just on a visual examination of the bronze.”
    “Of course, I’d be delighted.”
    “The project’s been the hot topic around here for the last day or two,” Giovanni put in as Miranda began to unwrap the velvet. “Ah.” He let out a sigh as she set the undraped bronze on the counter. “Bella, molto bella.”
    “A fine execution.” Richard pushed his glasses back into place and squinted at the bronze. “Simple. Fluid. Wonderful form and details. Perspective.”
    “Sensual,” Giovanni said, bending to look closely. “The arrogance and the allure of the female.”
    Miranda cocked a brow at Giovanni before giving her attention back to Richard. “Do you recognize her?”
    “It’s the Dark Lady of the Medicis.”

    “That’s my opinion as well. And the style?”
    “Renaissance, unquestionably.” Richard reached out with a tentative finger to stroke the left cheekbone. “I wouldn’t say the model was used to represent a mythical or religious figure, but herself.”
    “Yes, the lady as the lady,” Miranda agreed. “The artist portrayed her, I’d guess, as she was. From an artist’s standpoint, I would say he knew her, personally. I’ll need to do a search for documents. Your help would be invaluable there.”
    “I’d be happy to help. If this can be authenticated as a major piece from the Renaissance period, it will be quite a coup for Standjo. And for you, Dr. Jones.”
    She’d thought of it. Indeed, she’d thought of it. But she smiled coolly. “I don’t count my chickens. If she spent any amount of time in the environment in which she was found—and it appears she did—the corrosion growth would have been affected. I’ll want the results of that, of course,” she added to Giovanni, “but I can’t depend on it for true accuracy.”
    “You’ll run relative comparisons, thermoluminescence.”
    “Yes.” She smiled at Richard again. “We’ll also be testing the cloth, and the wood from the stair tread. But the documentation will make it all the more conclusive.”
    Miranda leaned a hip on the corner of the small pickled-oak desk. “She was found in the cellar of the Villa della Donna Oscura, secreted under the bottom tread of the stairs. I’ll have a report on the details we know at this point for the three of you. The three of you and Vincente only,” she added. “Security is one of the director’s top concerns. Whoever you require to assist you must have A-grade clearance, and the data you give them must be kept to a minimum until we’ve completed all tests.”
    “So, for now she’s ours.” Giovanni winked at her.
    “She’s mine,” Miranda corrected with a slow, serious smile. “I need any and all information on the villa itself, on the woman. I want to know her.”
    Richard nodded. “I’ll start right away.”

    Miranda turned back to the bronze. “Let’s see what she’s made of,” she murmured.
     
    A few hours later, Miranda rolled her shoulders and eased back in her chair. The bronze stood before her, smiling slyly. There were no signs of brass or silicon bronze, no platinum, none of the metals or materials that weren’t used in the Renaissance in the sliver of patina and metal she’d extracted. The bronze had a clay core, just as a piece of that era should have. The early testing of the corrosion levels indicated late fifteenth century.
    Don’t be hasty, she ordered herself. Preliminary tests weren’t enough. So far she was working in the negative. There was nothing out of place, no alloy that didn’t belong, no sign of tool work that didn’t jibe with the era in her visual exam, but she had yet to determine the positive.
    Was the lady true or false?
    She took time for one cup of coffee and some of the pretty crackers and cheese Elise had provided for her in lieu of lunch. Jet lag was threatening, and she refused to acknowledge it. The coffee, strong, black, and potent as only the Italians could brew, pumped through her system, providing a caffeine mask over fatigue. She’d crash eventually, Miranda