Free Out of the Night by Dan Latus Page A

mariners?’
    She laughed. ‘Probably. Or modern yachting enthusiasts. Whereabouts on the coast do you live, by the way?’
    I told her.
    ‘Nice,’ she said, shaking her head judiciously. ‘Rather wild?’
    ‘Oh, yes. You have to hold on to your hat most days.’
    She seemed to like that, as well.
    We entered a large room that did its best to knock you out. I stared with surprise at the extravagantly lurid canvases that dominated all the walls. Vivid yellows, empowering pinks, raging reds, and maelstrom blues. That just about summed it up.
    ‘Your acrylics section?’ I suggested.
    Jac laughed again. ‘It seems that way, doesn’t it? These are all by young local artists from the college. I like to showcase some of their work.’
    ‘And is this what young artists like to do these days?’
    ‘Those that like to paint at all seem to, at the moment. Those, that is, who are not busy creating sensory experiences in other media, or trying to shock us all with political comment.’
    ‘Well, that’s enough for me. I forgot to bring my sunglasses.’
    I wondered if she would laugh again, and she did. It was a soft, tinkling sound that was a sensory experience in its own right.
    ‘I’ll leave you to it, then,’ she said. ‘Come and rejoin me when you’re through. We’ll have that coffee – if you have time?’
    Oh, yes. I was sure I would have the time. Apart from anything else, I was getting to like Jac Picknett more every minute I spent with her.
     
    It didn’t take me long to work out, on a rough basis, a reasonable package for the gallery. It wasn’t the Tate or the Louvre, after all. Jac didn’t need, and probably couldn’t afford, state-of-the-art security. She just wanted a sensible package. I could set that up for her.
    The package would include well-positioned CCTV cameras and monitors, good locks on internal as well as external doors, internal sensors and alarms and a lot of common-sense precautions that experience had demonstrated were as effective as anything.
    ‘What’s the damage?’ Jac asked when I returned to her office.
    I told her in ballpark terms.
    ‘That’s a lot better than I feared. Are you sure?’
    ‘Security is always a compromise,’ I told her. ‘The more you have, the more you pay, but it’s never absolute anyway. A good man – or a bad one – can always break through, given enough time and determination.
    ‘Besides, you have to consider what kind of a place you want here. You’re not trying to keep people out. You want the gallery to be welcoming and attractive to people, presumably, not a Fort Knox designed to stop anyone getting inside. What I’m proposing should be more than enough for what you have here. Have you had any problems, by the way?’
    ‘Nothing serious – yet.’
    ‘Let’s keep it that way. I’ll do some detailed costing and come back to you with my ideas. Then, if you’re still interested, I’ll get the hardware and software ordered. I think you should tag items with sensors that will alert someone if they are touched or moved. Meantime, there are some simple things that you can do yourself.’
    ‘Oh? Like what?’
    ‘Well, for one, I’d like you to make sure you’re happy about everyone who works here. A lot of the thefts that do occur from art galleries involve insider assistance. Let’s try and rule that out.
    ‘Then I’d like you to think about how you organize your exhibitions and displays a bit more. Your most valuable items should be in the safest part of the gallery, or the part hardest to reach. Don’t have them where someone can break a window, reach through and grab them.
    ‘There’s also some practical things worth doing on the outside of the building. You have unprotected glass on the roof. We need either to encase it or to fit bars, so someone can’t just shin up a drainpipe, tap the glass out and let themselves in the easy way.
    ‘External windows need protecting for the same reason. And outside the entrance you need some