“Yes,” Caleb answered. “And would you please write up what work you propose to do? We’ll provide that documentation with the book when it’s sold.”
Monty nodded and returned to his current project.
Caleb headed back to the reading room. In the tunnels he found himself chuckling. “Miltie,” he said under his breath. “And his new hairdo.” It would be the last good laugh he would have in a long time.
Chapter 33
“Regina Collins,” Annabelle said in a brisk manner, handing the woman her card. “I called ahead for an appointment with Mr. Keller.” She and Milton were standing in the reception area of Keller & Mahoney, Architects, located in a towering brownstone near the White House. She was dressed in a sleek black pantsuit that beautifully offset her now red–highlighted hair. Milton stood behind her, alternating between self–consciously adjusting his orange tie and fingering the chic ponytail that Annabelle had styled his long hair in.
A minute later a tall man in his fifties with wavy gray hair strode out to meet them. He wore a monogrammed striped shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and green braces held up his trousers. “Ms. Collins?” he said. They shook hands, and she handed him one of her business cards.
“Mr. Keller, what a pleasure. Thank you for taking the time to see us on such short notice. My assistant was supposed to call you before we left France. Suffice it to say, I’m getting a new assistant.” She indicated Milton. “My associate, Leslie Haynes.”
Milton managed to say both hello and shake the man’s hand, though he didn’t look very comfortable doing either.
“Forgive the jet lag,” Annabelle said quickly, noting his awkwardness. “We usually take the afternoon flight here, but it was booked. We had to get up before dawn Paris time. A real killer.”
“Not to worry, I can relate. Please, come on back,” Keller said amiably.
In his office they all sat at a small conference table.
“I know you’re a busy man, so I’ll get right to the point. As I said in my call, I’m the managing director with a start–up architectural magazine for the trade in Europe.”
Keller glanced at the business card that Annabelle had just had run off that morning. “La Balustrade. Clever name.”
“Thanks. The ad agency spent a lot of time and our money developing it. I’m sure you can understand that.”
Keller laughed. “Oh, yes. We went that route initially and then decided to just name the company after ourselves.”
“I wish we’d had that option.”
“But you’re not French?”
“An old story. I’m a transplanted American who fell in love with Paris while I was in college on an exchange program. I can speak the language just well enough to order dinner, a nice bottle of wine, and get into trouble on occasion.” She said a few words in French.
Keller laughed embarrassingly. “I’m afraid I don’t,” he said.
She opened a leather briefcase she’d brought with her and pulled out a notebook. “Well, for the inaugural issue we wanted to do a story on the renovation of the Jefferson Building that was undertaken by your firm in partnership with the Architect of the Capitol.”
Keller nodded. “That was a great honor for us.”
“And a long job. From 1984 until 1995, correct?”
“You’ve done your homework. That also included redoing the Adams Building across the street as well as cleaning and conservation of the murals in the Jefferson Building. I can tell you it dominated my life for ten years.”
“And you did a brilliant job. From what I understand it was a Herculean task simply to rework the main reading area. There were a lot of structural integrity issues, load–bearing column problems, particularly with the challenge of the dome, and I heard that the original truss work left a lot to be desired?” These were items Milton had pulled off the Internet for her just that morning. She’d distilled a hundred pages of information down so smoothly, and spun it out so glibly, that Milton looked at her in amazement.
“It did have its challenges, although you’re looking at a building that was constructed over a hundred years ago. Given that, they did a helluva job back then.”
“I have to say the regilding of the Torch of Learning’s flame at the apex of the dome with twenty–three–and–a–half–carat gold leaf was an inspired touch.”
“Well, I can’t take credit for that one, but it does look terrific against the roof’s copper patina.”
“But you can take credit for using modern technology and construction techniques to make the building even better,” she said.
“That we did. It’ll easily last another hundred years or more. And with a price tag of over eighty million, it should.”
“We won’t be allowed to take any pictures of the construction plans, will we?”
“I’m afraid not. Security issues and all that.”
“I completely understand, but I had to ask. Can we at least look at them? When we do write the story, I want to be able to give full flavor to all the incredible ingenuity that your firm brought to the project. And it might help you give us a better commentary if they’re in front of us. Our magazine will be distributed in eight countries. Not that your firm needs the exposure, but it couldn’t hurt.”
Keller smiled. “Well, it sounds like this article will be good for business. In fact, we’ve been looking to branch out overseas.”
“Then I think this is a match made in heaven,” Annabelle replied.
“Any particular phase you’d like to look at?”
“All of it, really, but perhaps a focus on the basement and the second floor, which I heard were challenges too.”
“It was all a challenge, Ms. Collins.”
“Please, call me Regina. And the reconfig of the HVAC?”
“That was a bear.”
“I can tell this is going to be a great article,” Annabelle cooed.
Keller picked up the phone, and minutes later they were looking over the architectural plans. Milton positioned himself such that he took in every inch of the drawings, mentally filing every detail away in far reaches of his brain that most human beings could not access in theirs. Keller went over various points while Annabelle quickly sized up the plans and directed his attention and comments to the basement fire suppression room, the HVAC and the Rare Books reading room vaults.
“Now, the fire suppression equipment is centrally housed and piped through the slab?” she asked, drawing a finger along this part of the plan.
“Exactly. We were able to centrally locate it because of the delivery system we had. But they’re in the process of changing the suppressant.”
“Halon 1301,” Milton volunteered, and Annabelle gave him a rewarding smile. “An ozone depletion monster. We have the same problem across the pond.”
“Precisely,” Keller agreed.
“And this HVAC duct runs right up to the vaults housed around the reading room,” she pointed out.
“Yes, that was a little tricky because of the limited space, but we piggybacked some of the principal ductwork right onto the shelving columns.”
“And still allow them to be load–bearing. That is very clever,” Annabelle complimented.
They went over the drawings for another half hour until Annabelle pronounced herself satisfied. “Leslie,” she said to Milton, “do you need to see anything else?”
He shook his head and, smiling, put his finger to his temple. “I’ve got it all up here.”
Annabelle laughed and Keller quickly joined in.
She took a photo of Keller and his partner, Mahoney, for the story, and promised to send them a copy of the magazine when it came out. Don’t hold your breath, guys.
As they were leaving, Keller said, “If you have any more questions, don’t hesitate to give us a call.”
“You’ve been more helpful than you could possibly imagine,” Annabelle replied truthfully.
As they climbed into Annabelle’s rented Ford, Milton said, “Thank God that’s over. My palms are so sweaty I could barely open the car door.”