The Shock Of The View free porn video

1: Hunters in the Snow 1: Hunters in the Snow

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Image:Brueghel_the_elder_-_Hunters_in_the_snow.jpg

 

It was too bloody cold. Pieter Breughel looked out across the wintry scene that he was painting. He was already thinking he should have set up his easel closer to the inn and the bonfire that was flaming so attractively outside it. Sure, the view was better from here but it was, as he had already decided, too bloody cold.

 

The mobile phone in his pocket went off. Its piercing ring tone, a rip from Hocus Pocus by Focus, startled the hunting dogs as they passed following their masters down to the lake. Breughel fumbled in his overcoat for the phone and answered it.

 

?Ya,? he said, ?is Breughel.? He was famously abrupt and his telephone manner did nothing to dispel the impression that answering telephone calls was not one of his great life pleasures.

 

?Pieter?? He recognised the voice at the other end as Janine Schenk, the British super-realist.

 

?Ya,? he said. ?What can I do for you, Janine??

 

?I have a friend,? she said. ?He needs some help.?

 

?We all need some help sometimes.?

 

?This is rather specialised help. The sort of help you gave me recently.? Pieter felt weary. The trip to London had taken a lot out of him. Nobody likes seeing people killed and the business with Vallance had been messy. He?d been pleased that Schenk had come out of it all right but as for the trustees of the National Gallery and the Tate; well, they should have seen it coming.

 

?I dunno, Janine,? he responded warily, ?I?m working on ?Hunters in the Snow?. It?s a commission for the Kunsthistoriches Museum in Vienna.?

 

?Oh, come on Pieter,? Janine sounded impatient. ?Another of those genre paintings? You know you don?t have to stand around out of doors to do them. You must have enough snow scenes in your gallery to recreate the arctic. This will be more interesting. And it will be warmer.?

 

?Warmer?? said Pieter. Suddenly the opportunity that Janine was presenting sounded more interesting. His breath was already turning to ice in his beard.

 

?Come to Italy, Pieter, come to Rome. There?s someone here that wants to meet you.?

 

A group of small boys ran past where Breughel was painting. Their snow fight managed to shower him with cold white powder. His fingers were already getting numb. It had been a stupid idea to try to paint this outside. It was alright for those impressionists in their nice, warm, south of France sun but it didn?t work here in Breda. It didn?t take much more effort on Janine?s part to make him agree.??

?

2 :La Gioconda

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Image:Mona_Lisa.jpg

 

The ?plane touched down at Rome?s international airport. As Pieter stepped across to the bus from the foot of the aircraft steps he looked across at the terminal building. ?Bloody hell,? he thought, ?they?ve even named the airport after him.?

 

Janine was waiting in the arrival hall when he had collected his baggage. She waved as he came through the barrier. He smiled back. All right, he was probably old enough to be her father but that didn?t stop him appreciating her dark, slight good looks in a most un-fatherly way. He?d never gone in for painting women in the nude. Maybe he was making a mistake, he thought. He pushed the trolley with his bag on across to where she was standing.

 

?Hi, Pieter,? she smiled. ?He?s sent a car. Just through here.? Janine waved a set of car keys and pointed to the exit. Outside Pieter could see a Lamborghini Miura.

 

?I wouldn?t have thought that was his style,? Pieter said. ?I had him down as more of an aesthete.? Janine shrugged. Pieter guessed, given Janine?s current enthusiasm for super-real pictures of classic cars, that she was more than happy with their assigned transport. He followed her out to the car. She climbed in and he followed suite, balancing his bag on his lap. It wasn?t an easy manoeuvre ? either the getting in or the balancing of his bag. The cockpit of the car was hardly roomy. He just hoped they hadn?t far to go.?

 

Janine swung the car confidently out of the airport and on to the A12 Autostrada Azzura. They were heading north, Pieter decided. The Miura growled as Janine slipped through the afternoon traffic. Comforted by her assured handling of the car, Pieter relaxed and started to enjoy the ride. ?Where are we going?? he asked.

 

?Tarquinia,? Janine replied slicing between two enormous trucks. Pieter looked up at the cab of the truck. The driver?s foot board was above his head. The relaxed feeling evaporated. ?He?s got a villa near there,? Janine went on. ?He?ll explain all about it when we get there.?

??

?If we get there,? thought Pieter, clutching his bag tighter as Janine slipped though another disturbingly small gap.

 

By the time Janine skidded the car to a halt outside the villa, Pieter was convinced he had lost several pounds in fright-induced sweat but they arrived without a scratch on the car or themselves. Pieter unfolded himself from inside the car, straightening up with care, his joints still stiff from the flight. The warmth of the afternoon was adequate compensation for the terrors of the drive. As he looked around a bald man with a long flowing beard came bustling out of the villa. ?Hey, Pete, hey!? the figure called.

 

?Leonardo!? Pieter acknowledged. ?Good to meet you!?

 

?Please,? the other said, ?it?s Leo. To my friends it?s Leo. Everyone else it?s ?Mr Da V? but to friends it?s Leo.?

 

?Leo,? said Pieter taking his hand. He looked around. ?Nice place.?

 

Leo was looking at Janine as she bent over the car, pulling her handbag from where she had wedge it between the seats. ?Nice arse,? he hissed conspiratorially then, as Janine stood up. ?Come in both of you. Come in.?

 

A rather effete looking man was waiting at the door and offered to take their bags. Leo introduced him as il Salaino. Pieter wasn?t sure what the relationship was between them. Leo didn?t bother to explain.

 

The building was old but the interior was packed with electronics and other gadgetry. Leo showed them though into a large sunlit lounge. He pressed a few buttons, blinds closed the window and a screen dropped from the ceiling.

 

?Here,? said Leo. ?Do you get to watch TV??

 

Pieter shook his head. He had cable in one of the flats in Breda but there had never seemed to be anything on that he wanted to watch. Besides he was pretty busy most of the time.

 

?You should, you should, Pete. You paint the man in the street ? this is what he does; what he watches.?? Leo thumbed a remote control and the screen flickered into life. ?Now this is one big show?.?

 

?America?s Next Top Model? the title said over a series of pictures of girls strutting along a cat walk.

 

?Leo, you?re not planning to launch a line of designer clothing are you?? Janine cut in.

 

Leo looked puzzled for a moment but then scribbled a note on a pad of paper. ?Interesting thought, Miss Schenk,? he said. ?Interesting thought. No, just watch for a moment. It?s not that sort of model.?

 

The program went on. A group of girls were sitting in a room, listening to a presentation by another girl and then the scene dissolved to an artist?s studio. ?Twelve girls,? the commentary began, ?one ambition. To be part of the world?s greatest painting. This is the race to find America?s next Top Model!!!?

 

?World?s greatest painting. Pah!? grunted Leo. ?In America? Pah!?

 

The programme continued. Each girl was being asked to show her abilities to pose and to remain motionless. The camera panned along the line. The soundtrack was giving a short biography of each. Telephone numbers appeared on the screen inviting the audience to vote for their choice. As the camera reached one girl with dark waving hair Leo froze the frame. ?Look,? he said pointing to the girl?s blank look.

 

?Very attractive,? said Breughel. ?She should do well, within the limits of the programme.?

 

?That?s not the point,? said Leo. ?That?s my model. I am half way through her portrait. She disappeared two weeks ago. Now she turns up there. Something must be done.? He reached behind the couch on which he was sitting and pulled out a half finished canvas.

 

Janine looked at it. Even in its current state it was impressive. The girl in the picture was staring out of the frame at the viewer, a curious half smile on her lips. Leo had obviously been having trouble with representing it; clipped to the stretcher of the canvas were a series of sketches of the girl?s mouth as he had tried to work out exactly how to show it.

 

Pieter turned to Leo. ?So, your model decides to take off. She turns up in the USA. She wants to find some fame and fortune. Is that new? It?s difficult of course when you have a picture half finished like this but what can we artists do? That?s models for you.?

 

?It?s not like that,? said Leo with a determined look on his face. He tugged irritably at his beard. ?No, something else is going on. There have been others. Not seen on this show but there have been others. Ingres has lost a model. Velazquez too. Perhaps three or four more. There is the welfare of these girls to consider.?

 

?And the inconvenience of the artists too?? Janine interjected.

 

Leo scowled at her. ?Of course. But you should understand that. Or do you just work from photographs these days??

 

Janine nearly came back with some remark to the effect that at least her paintings didn?t fade the minute they got up on the walls but, in the end, ignored the jibe at the way that she and many super-realists approached their work. Pieter cut in to stop the thing descending into an argument over artistic technique. ?So, Leo,? he said. ?What do you want me to do??

 

?Find her,? he pointed to the screen. The programme had run on and now Leo?s model was draped across a couch in a state of undress. The pose she was adopting didn?t really fit with the prim individual in Leo?s portrait. ?and bring her back here.?

 

?Maybe I can do the first. The second? Who knows? I can try. What can you tell me about her??

 

?She?s a local girl, Donna Vellani.?

 

?I?d heard you were painting Lisa Gherardini ? that?s not this picture then?

 

?I?m still arguing with Francesco Del Giocondo about that one. He?s a difficult man. You know what these Florentine?s are like!?

 

Il Salino came back into the room clutching a telephone. ?It?s for you,? he said. ?It?s ?? He looked at Breughel and Janine, ?well, it?s?.you know.?

 

Leo tutted and took the phone from him. ?Hello, Pierre. Yes, I see. No. Well, that?s very concerning. No, no I don?t think I can help. I?m very busy right now. Have you tried Nicholas? Yes, Nicholas, Nicholas Poussin. He might be able to help. He?d be worth a call anyway. ? All right. ? Good bye, Pierre.?? He broke the connection. Leo turned back to Pieter and Janine.? ?Lunatic!? he said. Brueghel looked puzzled. ?Pierre Plantard. His delusions about the Priory of Sion will cause a great deal of trouble. He wants me to be involved. I?ve told him no.?

 

?So, it is all a myth then? Just a hoax as many claim??

 

?Certainly for Plantard,? said Leo with a wink. ?But what good would a secret society be if you let people find out about it??

 

Breughel felt himself warming to the man. Janine was sitting quietly listening to all that was being said and watching the television programme as the various tasks the girls were being given were played out.

 

?Well, Leo, if I wanted to help. I say IF. If I wanted to help, will the others talk??

 

?Perhaps. I will do what I can to persuade them. Here,? he gave Pieter a paper with an address on it, ?Donna Vellani was staying in Rome, down on the Corso Vittorio Emmanuelle. But there is one other you should see.?

 

?Who is that??

 

?Victorine Meurent.? Janine sat up at the sound of the woman?s name. She was a famous beauty, whose cool elegance had transfixed Paris only a few months earlier. ?She is the president of the Artistic Posers Collective ? it?s a sort of model?s union ? she will have an interest in this too. You?ll find her villa a little further down the coast.?

3: Olympia

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Image:Manet%2C_Edouard_-_Olympia%2C_1863.jpg

 

Victorine Meurent lounged back on her chaise-longue, looking towards Breughel with barely concealed contempt. She was naked apart from a thin black ribbon around her neck. One hand was draped decorously across her lap but her gaze dared the man to look away from her pale body. ?So,? she said, ?suddenly the artists wish to take an interest in our affairs. Freezing studios, weak absinthe, poor wages were all good enough before. Now, though, now they want to give us a detective!?

 

?Mister Da V is very concerned for the welfare of the models,? Pieter responded. ?He is only trying to help.?

 

?Mister Da V is concerned for the welfare of Mister Da V. He knows that without models he would have to go back to painting fruit or, worse still, landscapes.? Breughel held his tongue; he knew the girl?s taunt was directed at his own work.

 

Breughel shrugged. ?Well, perhaps you are right. If you don?t feel I can help then?.? He made to pick up his cap and started turn to the door.?

 

?No. Wait.? Victorine said. She reached out for a small bell on the table beside her and rang it.

 

Her black maid servant appeared clutching a vast bunch of flowers. ?From Monsieur Manet,? the maid said. ?He hopes you will see him later.?

 

Victorine looked bored. ?Perhaps,? she said. ?I will think about it, but for now I want no callers.?

 

?Very good madam,? the maid said, putting the flowers down beside Victorine?s couch.

 

Victorine swung her pale legs down from the couch gathering her robe about her. As she did so she disturbed the black cat that was sitting near her feet. It hissed and buried itself under the couch. ?Come,? she said, gesturing to a group of armchairs arranged around the fire on the far side of the room. ?I shall give you a hearing and we shall see. You?ll take some tea??

 

Breughel nodded. He gestured towards Janine. ?I should introduce my associate, Miss Schenk.?

 

?Associate?? said Victorine sceptically. ?A new word for it.?

 

?I am an artist in my own right, mademoiselle,? Janine responded feeling prickly. ?Members of your organisation have sat for my works.?

 

?An innovation!? exclaimed Victorine. ?A woman behind the easel instead of in front of it. Whatever will things come to if the world is exposed to women?s views instead of views of women?? Her voice was heavy with irony and she looked at Janine with an evident degree of distaste.

 

The maid arrived with a tray of tea things and poured each of them a cup. Victorine pulled her wrap more closely about her. ?There have been six girls to my knowledge. At least two of them have turned up on the programme that you talk of but of the others, no trace. We have tried to get messages to them but there have been no replies. There may be nothing to worry about. Mr Da V and the others have been inconvenienced but that is hardly our concern. I am more worried about the welfare of my members, though. If there is any suggestion that these girls have not gone of the own accord??

 

?Do you believe that to be the case??

 

Victorine shrugged. ?It is hard to say. Our members are often impulsive. The life of a model is hardly one of stability and conventional morality.? She granted Janine an acidic look. ?It mirrors that of our employers.? Janine returned it. ?I do know that at least one was planning to be in Florence this week but is not there and another had said she expected to be in Rome and is not there either. Let us say that I suspect that all is not as it should be.?

 

?Go on,? Breughel urged.

 

?One of the girls at least. I was surprised that she would go off without at least a word to others. She was working with Buonarotti. In Rome. He was furious when she left.?

 

Breughel felt no enthusiasm for a meeting with Michelangelo. A mercurial figure at best, he was too prone to solving problems with his fists for the quiet Belgian.

 

?In fact,? said Victorine. ?Two of the others were last heard of in Rome. It could be a good place to start.?

 

Breughel grunted. ?You?ll let me have a list?? he asked. ?Names, employers, date and place last seen.?

 

Victorine nodded and reached for her bell. The maid appeared again. ?The ledger,? Victorine called. The girl left and returned with a large black leather bound book. Victorine copied out some details from it and passed the paper to Pieter. He got to his feet and Janine followed suite. ?Do call me,? Victorine said to Janine, ?if you ever decide to hang up your brushes. I?m sure there are many that would love to ?..?

 

?Of course,? said Janine in as sweet a voice as she could muster, ?though I don?t think it likely.? She and Breughel took their leave.??????

 

4: The Creation

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Image:God2-Sistine_Chapel.png

 

Pieter and Janine headed back towards Rome. If anything Janine?s driving was more aggressive than before. Pieter winced as she carved the Miura between two small vans and slipped down a gear to accelerate away from them, earning a growl of appreciation from the gear box.

 

?Bitch,? she muttered under her breath.

 

Pieter heard her but chose not to be drawn. It was obvious that Janine and Victorine hadn?t seen eye to eye. Whatever her views on the emancipation of women might be, it was clear which side of an easel Victorine thought a woman should be.

 

They picked up the autostrada just before Civitavecchia but the traffic was still too heavy to allow Janine to take advantage of the V12, 4 litre engine. The exhaust grumbled as she wove through the stream of cars heading towards Rome.

 

At the edge of the city, Janine took the circonvallazione north to pick up the Via Aurelia. The Carabinieri were less than impressed with the way that Janine swung the Lamborghini into St Peter?s Square. A contingent of Swiss Guard approach them as Janine and Pieter climbed out. ?Friends of Mr Da V,? Janine called as they reached the car. The guards stiffened at the mention of the artist and engineer. She tossed the cars keys to the first guard. ?Can you park it please?? she smiled, winsomely. ?We?ll be in the Capella Sistina.?

 

The guard smiled. ?Sure,? he said. ?But watch out. We?ve got workmen in there. They?re doing some stuff to the ceiling.?

 

?Thanks,? called Janine, leading Pieter to the door to the chapel. Pieter looked back to the scene in the square. The guards were arguing about which of them would actually get to park the car. Pieter thought there might be a few more kilometers on the clock than was strictly needed by the time they got it back.?????

 

Pieter had heard great things about the Sistine Chapel but right now the place resembled a building site more than an artist?s studio. A large hydraulic platform stood at one end of the chapel, its legs extended so that those working on it could easily reach the ceiling 60 feet above the ground.

 

?Hey Mike,? Janine called up. ?Are you going to be up there all day??

 

?Janine, hey!? the artist responded with spontaneous warmth. ?Hold on, I?ll be right down.? He barked some orders to the others working on the platform alongside him, and scrambled down the ladder from the platform to the floor of the chapel. He picked up a cloth to wipe the paint from his hands and then embraced Janine affectionately. ?Still keeping it real??

 

?Better than that,? she laughed. ?Do you know Pieter??

 

Breughel extended his hand. ?It?s an honour to meet you,? he said sincerely.

 

?Naturally,? Michelangelo responded in the manner of a man known for his lack of modesty. Janine gave him a scolding look. ?And, of course, you. Your work with the everyday is as great in its field as is mine with the divine.?

 

Breughel?s natural tendency to the taciturn made him wary of the Italian?s over blown manner. ?We hear that one of your models ran off. Mr da V thought it might help if he could find her.?

 

Michelangelo looked annoyed. ?Inconsiderate slut!? he snapped. ?If Eve cannot be relied upon what chance is there for the rest of womankind? Look!? He pointed to a drawing on a sheet of paper hanging on one wall of the chapel. In the picture the head and shoulders of a woman were peering out from under the arm of God at the act of creation. ?It was almost complete, I was ready to transfer it to the ceiling. The plaster was already applied and wet, She should have been on hand if I needed to check any slight detail. And what do I find??

 

?What?? said Pieter.

 

?Nothing! I come back from lunch to find she has gone. No letter, no message, nothing. We?ve had to chip the plaster off again. I don?t know what we will do if she doesn?t come back. Sure I can get on with the rest for now but it will have to be done soon.??

 

?You?ve tried to find her at home??

 

?Of course! At home, her parents, her ? how you say ? ?significant other?. No sign. None of them know where she has gone or that she was planning to go anywhere.?

 

?And the police?? Janine asked.

 

?Why should they be interested? She?s a model. They come and go, they say. How can you expect anything else, they say. They took the details but I don?t think they took much notice.?

 

?But you have friends in high places. Didn?t you try Julius?? Pieter thought that the Pope ought to have been able to help.

 

?You think he can spare his time worrying about one girl. You know what he said? Mikey, baby, he says, you do the pictures, you worry about the fucking girls. I gotta church to run. You think you got problems with girls, let me tell you how many nuns I gotta worry about. That?s what he said. So I got a ceiling with a big hole in it right now. If you can find her, then great.?

 

Pieter listened. He could understand why Luther was pushing things the way he was. ?Can you tell us where she was staying?? He?d already concluded that he wouldn?t learn much from Buonarotti.

 

Michelangelo gave them an address for his model, Gina Perdice. She?d been living in an apartment down near the Piazza Navona. Pieter said he?d do what he could. He and Janine left the painter climbing back up to the ceiling, haranguing his assistants and yelling at the plasterers for putting up more than the painters could hope to cover before it dried. Back in the sunlight that streamed down on St Peter?s Square. Pieter confided in Janine, ?I?m not sure this is getting anywhere yet.?

 

She shook her head. ?No, the artists take little interest in the models apart from peering at them when they are painting or fucking them when they?re not.?

 

Pieter was sometimes affronted by Janine?s language but he didn?t disagree with her analysis. They walked together slowly. ?I think we should try the addresses that Victorine and Leo gave us,? Pieter said. ?If you take these three, I?ll do the others. Just try to see if anyone knows when they went missing; if they remember anything odd about the girls; if they had any callers. Let?s check these out and then we?ll go see Gina Perdice?s place.??

 

Janine nodded. ?Sure,? she said. ?Where will I meet you??

 

Pieter thought for a moment. ?How about by the Trevi Fountain at seven o?clock?

 

Janine said, ?Fine.? She waved and headed off across the street dodging between the hooting traffic of the late afternoon.

 

Pieter trudged off in the opposite direction with his own list. He knew that leg work was the heart of detection but that didn?t make it any more interesting.

 

When they met again they were both feeling despondent. The views of those they had spoken to were remarkably consistent. ?She was a model. They come and go don?t they? How would I know where she is? No she hasn?t paid the rent ? either before she left or after. No I don?t remember any callers. I don?t let the girls bring guests in here. What sort of a house do you think this is??

 

?What we need,? said Janine, ?is to get closer to things. Listen. When we get to Gina Perdice?s apartment let me talk to the landlady. I?ve got an idea but you?ll need to go along with it.?

 

Spontaneity wasn?t Breughel?s strongest suit but he was happy to let Janine take the lead.

 

The apartment block was a big rambling building, the made their way through the warren of corridors until they found an old woman carrying bundles of washing. ?We?re looking for Gina Perdice.?

 

The woman responded immediately. ?She?s not here. I told Buonarotti already. I don?t know where she is.???

 

?I know,? said Janine, ?he suggested I could take her room.?

 

The woman shrugged. ?I don?t mind who pays the rent.? She looked her up and down. ?You working for Buonarotti??

 

Janine shook her head. ?No. For this man.? She grabbed Pieter by the arm and smiled warmly at him.

 

The old woman grunted. ?Another artist, eh?? She prodded Breughel inquisitorially. ?Is she going to earn enough posing for you to pay her rent??

 

Breughel, taking his cue as promised, nodded.

 

?What do I care?? she said. ?As long as she has the money! It?s that room there.? She pointed across the corridor. ?And you! Artist!? she waved at Pieter. ?You wanna fuck your model you do it somewhere else.?

 

Pieter doffed his hat at the woman and muttered an assurance of probity. The two of them left her and went into the room. Pieter looked as if he was sucking a lemon.

 

Janine collapsed on the bed laughing. ?Your face!? she giggled.

 

?I am not used to being accused of sexual impropriety,? Breughel said stuffily.

 

?Well,? said Janine, ?you have now installed your devastatingly attractive model in her sordid apartment. You shall take a small studio somewhere. I shall model for you. We shall see what happens. Maybe I will find things out from some of the other girls.?

 

?I am not a fan of these under-cover operations,? Breughel said. ?This could be very risky for you.?

 

?I can look after myself, Pieter,? Janine responded.

 

Pieter felt like reminding her that she hadn?t been able to look after herself when she was snatched from the Delacroix exhibition and that he?d ended up pulling her out of that with the death of three of her guards. He looked at her determined face. It was obvious that she?d made up her mind. ?I?d better find some paints and a canvas, then,? Breughel said.

5: Odalisque With A Slave

 

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Image:Ingres%2C_Odalisque_with_a_slave.jpg

 

Pieter Breughel was taking a morning coffee on the Piazza Navona. He winced at the sight of Janine Schenk as she approached him across the square.

 

She was wearing an acid green blouse of a material that was sheer enough to make it plain she was wearing a black bra beneath it. Her skirt stretched to below her knees but was so tight that it provided all those watching with a perfect appreciation of the line of her buttocks and thighs. The black satin material glinted in the morning sunlight.

 

He was sitting outside the caf? where they had arranged to meet. We need to be seen, she?d said. The artist and his model. He looked at his canvases, brushes and easel, propped ostentatiously beside his seat. He looked back at the girl advancing towards him. There wasn?t much risk that they wouldn?t be noticed, he thought. Worst luck!

 

Now she strode straight up to him and sat down, giving the hem of her skirt an exaggerated tug downwards as she crossed her legs. Seeing Pieter?s response, she smiled at him and blew him a kiss. The smirks of the men and the scowls of the women at adjacent tables told Breughel exactly what they thought about his companion.

 

Pieter picked up the tiny cup of espresso coffee and peered over it at Janine?s back-combed and teased hair. ?Very convincing,? he said quietly.

 

?I thought so,? laughed Janine. ?Relax. It will do your reputation the world of good.?

 

?I hadn?t realised that ?model? was a synonym for ?prostitute? these days.?

 

?You?re reading the wrong papers.?

 

She was right, thought Breughel. He was feeling increasingly out of touch with the man in the street.

 

Janine grinned at Pieter?s discomfort. It got worse as Pieter realised that a girl in an exceptionally abbreviated skirt and a low cut top seemed to be waving at him. His relief was evident as he realised that she was waving at Janine rather than himself.

 

?Ciao!? the girl exclaimed as she arrived at their table. She sat down and tossed her capacious shoulder bag onto the table. As she leant forward to pull a pack of cigarettes from the bag, Pieter realised that he was being afforded a view of her cleavage that practically allowed him to see her navel.

 

?This is Francesca Corone,? Janine announced. ?We met at the apartments and I?ve got a job!? Janine leapt forward and clutched Pieter around the neck in an exaggerated show of affection. ?We could have a clue,? she hissed quietly in his ear as she hugged him.

 

?Si,? said Francesca. ?We have a real chance to be in an important picture. For Mr Ingres. You know him??

 

Pieter nodded. Who hadn?t heard of the painter of the debauched pictures that had outraged Paris in spite of his attempt to justify them as a sociological study of girls involved in the sex industry in the near and middle east. ?More odalisques?? Pieter asked.

 

Janine nodded but seeing his concern said, ?It?s all very proper. Mr Ingres has assured us. We shall be chaperoned at all times.?

 

?I?m pleased to hear it,? said Brueghel stuffily.

 

?Come and see,? said Janine, ?we are starting this morning.?

 

Breughel grunted acceptance, downed the last of his coffee, tossed a few coins on the table, picked up his easel and canvases and followed Janine and Francesca across the piazza. In spite of himself, he found he was enjoying the site of the two girls? backsides as they strode out as well as their tight skirts would allow them.

 

Ingres studio, in a tall Moorish building at the back of the Spanish Steps, looked more like a Turkish harem than an artist?s workplace but he greeted Breughel warmly. He shooed the girls away to change, smiling at the way they giggled and grabbed at the bolts of brightly coloured and embroidered silks that were draped around the room. ?I?m surprised to see you in Rome, Breughel,? Ingres said.

 

?It was cold in Antwerp,? Pieter replied, ?and besides, I like pizza,?

 

Ingres gave him a sideways look, not certain whether or not he was being humorous. Pieter noticed a rather serious looking woman sitting in the corner of the room. Ingres waved her forward, ?Pieter, do you know Madame Berthe Morisot?

 

Pieter nodded. They had met some time ago in Paris.

 

?Berthe will be keeping an eye on me to make sure I am not taking any liberties with the girls. She is quite incorruptible, I am sure you will agree,? Ingres said, evidently irritated by the need to employ a chaperone as well as the models.

 

?You are right. I am sure that with Madame Morisot in attendance the good reputation of the girls and yourself should be well assured.? Pieter took his leave of Ingres, Janine, and Berthe Morisot. He had work to do.

 

He spent the day trying to talk to some of the other girls that had worked for Michealangelo. Sure they knew ?Eve? but no one had seen her since she disappeared. Too many girls were going missing they said. It wasn?t a safe job any more. They were all looking for other things to do, working in cafes, jobs in the clubs or the theatres, anything was better than modelling at the moment.

 

Breughel didn?t feel that he was getting very far. It would probably be useful to see if Janine had discovered anything, he thought and headed for the flat she was sharing with Francesca. The place was deserted.

 

Pieter called Dominique. ?Dom,? he said, ?Is Janine still with you? She didn?t show up at her flat yet.?

 

?I left her with Francesca and Berthe They were getting dressed, I had to be over here, I had a call to meet with some guys. They didn?t show up either.?

 

Now Pieter was worried. ?Meet me at the studio,? he said, ?as quickly as you can.?

 

The two of them arrived at Ingres?s Spanish Steps studio at almost the same time. Dominique fumbled with his keys trying to open the door. As soon as they got in, the muffled moans coming from upstairs confirmed Pieter?s anxieties. The two of them bounded up the stairs. In the room that Dominique used to let his models change they found Madame Morisot.

 

She had been blindfolded, bound and gagged and tied to a large, heavy wooden chair. She was struggling against the ropes that held her to the chair. Dominique ran forward and tried to prise the cloth that gagged her from across her mouth but without effect, it had been tied too tightly. He turned his attention to the blindfold and wrenched it off. Berthe Morisot blinked in the light with relief at the sight of her rescuers. Pieter pulled a small folding knife from his pocket and managed to saw through the cloth. As he pulled that clear he saw that another cloth had been tied tightly between her lips holding further packing deep inside her mouth. He cut that too and pulled the packing clear as Dominique fumbled with the ropes. Berthe coughed and spluttered as the mouth filling wadding came clear.

 

?Oh, thank you,? Berthe gasped as Pieter removed the last of the gag. ?They?ve taken the girls. I couldn?t stop them.? Dominique had managed to untie the ropes around her waist and across her lap and now started on her wrists. Berthe gave a groan as the ropes came loose. She pulled her arms free and tried to massage some life back into her red raw wrists.

 

?Tell me what happened,? said Pieter.?

 

?There were three of them,? Berthe began. ?Masked, carrying guns. They burst in and made us all stand with our hands up. They wouldn?t let poor Janine dress. They forced Francesca to tie me up on this chair and then Janine. Then they tied up Francesca too. They gagged all of us and then they blindfolded me. After that I could only tell what happened by what I heard.?

 

?It must have been terrifying,? said Breughel sympathetically, ?please go on.??

 

?Well one of them said he thought there was only supposed to be one and one of the others said they might as well take them both. There would be enough room in the truck, he said. The girls were making a lot of noise in spite of their gags. I think the men were pawing at them. They seemed to be waiting for something or someone. They took quite a long time. Then there was another voice. A woman?s voice. She was speaking in English but she was French, I am almost certain. She sounded angry. Said that there should only have been one of them and that one of them wasn?t really a model. One of the men argued back saying what did it matter. In the end the woman calmed down and they all left.?

 

?What time was this??

 

?Perhaps around six o?clock,? Berthe said. She turned towards Dominique. ?I am sorry Monsieur Ingres,? she said. ?I did what I could.?

 

Dominic nodded. ?I am sure,? he said. ?Please do not concern yourself. Herr Breughel here will do all that needs to be done to obtain their safe return.?

 

This version ? Freddie Clegg 2007

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All characters fictitious

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? 2007 Freddie Clegg

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