Code of Siman Read Online Free PDF Page A

it.” Daryl inclined his head toward Amy. “You go ahead and go home. As I told Philippe, it’s these kinds of innovative ideas that propel a person forward, and Natanya, this was superb. I’m sorry I missed it.” Daryl almost sounded contrite.
    “Yeah, okay, sure. I’ll uh, just get my things. Thanks Mr. Montespan.”
    His comments hung in the air as Daryl had already left the lunchroom.
    “Maybe you can catch Philippe, Natanya. I think he told me he had a car because he didn’t want to bring your painting on the train,” Amy said.
    “He did? He borrowed a car?”
    “Yes, that’s what he told me,” Amy replied.
    “I better go so I can catch him!”
    Amy reached across the table and took the bag with the discarded napkins and plates from Natanya. “Go, just go, I can clean up here, really, I’m fine.”
    “Thanks Amy!” Natanya forgot about collecting her Tupperware containers she was supposed to bring home on Fridays, forgot about clearing the top of her desk for the janitorial service and directed all of her attention to leaving the building as quickly as possible. She unlocked the bottom drawer of her desk and pulled her purse out, not bothering to slide it closed, then dashed out across the full length of the floor and out into the hall.
    Natanya sprinted past a few lingerers in the hallway who congratulated her on her painting, then out the double door entry and past Geoffrey and Craig at the Security Station, who she waved at and thanked without hearing what they were saying to her, caught the elevator going down, and then found herself out on the street.
    Pulling her phone out of her purse, she texted Philippe that she was out in front of the building. She looked up and down the street for him, not knowing what kind of car he had borrowed. She anxiously checked her phone to see if she had an incoming text from Philippe.
    Please, please, please get my text, get my text… Natanya continued to look frantically up and down the streets for Philippe, but didn’t see any sign of him.
    Suddenly, an SUV pulled up to the curb in front of her.
    Philippe reached across the passenger seat to open the car door for her and yelled out over the noise of the traffic, “Hurry, get in, I’m double parked.”
    Natanya climbed into the car. “Where or should I say, from whom did you borrow an SUV from?”
    “Does it matter?” Philippe turned away from Natanya to look into oncoming traffic, and then eased the SUV back into the stream of cars, the bag containing the picture sliding to the back of the SUV as they moved forward.
    Natanya viewed the Vermeer as it slid backward and groaned. “What are we going to do with the painting now? I said I would paint a copy, but this…this is wrong, we can’t sell the painting. It’s not too late; we could bring it to the museum and tell them there’s been a mistake.”
    “You mean after you painted in the signature and coins and removed the ribbon with an over paint? Which I already removed, by the way.” Philippe smirked as he cast a sideways glance at Natanya.
    “Yes, I mean that was…I don’t know what I mean. “How did you remove the watercolor paint? You have to be very careful not to damage the painting. Why didn’t you just wait and let me do it? You could have ruined it!” Natanya folded her arms in front of her, but quickly unfolded them, opting to brace herself by holding the center console and the handle on the side of the door instead as Philippe weaved in and out of traffic as if he were in a race.
    “I learned from the best.”
    Eyes wide with fear, face flushed with the full gravity of the situation, Natanya clutched the door and console as if it was her lifeline, while the painting slid back and forth with each lurch of the vehicle.
    “Look Nat, I didn’t know you were going to be here…the buyer’s already lined up. I need to make the delivery as promised. That’s what I intend to do.”
    “We don’t need the money Philippe. I have a good