“I’m here dad,” said Daniel, closing the oak front door behind him. He nimbly walked through the living room skirting the coffee table before plopping on the couch.
An older man carrying two glasses of water entered the room. He gulped from the glass once, then twice before sitting next to his son. He handed one drink to Daniel and kept the remaining glass.
“Thanks for the water Dad,” said Daniel. “I appreciate you asking me to stop by. What did you wanna talk about?”
His father placed his glass on the old coffee table. “I have cancer. The doctors have given me a week to a month to live,” he said. Daniel began to speak but the old man sliced his hand in the air effectively silencing Daniel.
“I didn’t ask you here to tell you that I have cancer. I asked you to come here because I want you to receive 10 million dollars,” said the old man.
“Haha. What are you talking about,” replied a wild eye Daniel. “I don’t care about money. I care about you. And keeping you alive.” He inched closer to his father, putting his hand on his father's shoulder.
The old man shrugged his son's hand off and said, “Boy stop all this silliness. Shut up and listen.” He grabbed the glass, drinking the last of it. He then shifted comfortably into the corner of the couch. He looked at his son and said, “In 1990 I pulled off one of the greatest art heists in history. Well I had a partner of course, but he died years ago. It’s known in the history books as the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum theft, and there is a 10 million dollar reward. I want you to turn me in and collect the reward money.”
Glass shrieked and splintered as Daniels' grasp had weakened and the glass fell. “Dad I know about this robbery. We studied it in art history at college,” laughed Daniel. “Is the cancer In your brain?”
The old man shook his head and said, “Listen, I’m telling you the truth. I grew up in Boston. As a child my mother worked at a dinner across the street from the museum. Some days mom worked late and I would stroll around the museum until it closed. I would sit in front of Rembrandt's The Storm on the Sea of Galilee, for hours. It was his only seascape. Anyways I devised a plan to steal the painting back then. But I knew I had to wait till I was older, stronger and faster. By the summer of 1989 I had a plan and a partner in place. We had orchestrated many practice runs,” he pointed behind them towards the back yard. “In the big barn behind the shop. In march of 1990 we sprung. It was flawless and we made away with an additional 12 other paintings. The actual haul was valued at 500 million. Well at least that’s what the newspaper keeps saying,” said the old man.
The old man pushed a button on a device that resembled a small garage door opener. On the far wall across from them hung a giant television screen. A small hum vibrated and the television and wall began to rotate into the wall behind it, it stopped with a click. Now in its place where the television had been seconds ago hung Rembrandt's The Storm on the Sea of Galilee.