Victoria said, “I’ll let you know when it’s ready.”
Nicholas wasn’t blind. He quirked a brow at Mike. “Any trouble with me finding criminals with you?”
She narrowed her eyes but said, “Of course not. But remember, the system is pretty new, and we’re talking a lot of people, which means we’ll probably have a lot of false leads.”
“I know a few tricks that might save us some time.”
Nicholas ignored her raised eyebrows and reminded himself where he was. Best not to share with her his less-than-legal skills.
Bo said, “Good, good. Mike, did you enjoy meeting Sherlock last night?”
“I’ve gotta say, sir, Sherlock is pretty impressive, what with her ability to reconstruct a crime scene. We’ve got what happened at Inspector York’s apartment pretty nailed down.”
“Don’t call me sir. I’m Bo to you now. Maybe something neither of you know. Savich designed the base programs we used for VICAP and CODIS, in addition to adapting the facial-recognition program developed at New Scotland Yard for the FBI.” Bo rubbed his hands together. “He and Sherlock are solidly in the loop. They’ll be a great resource for us.”
Nicholas said slowly, “I didn’t realize he was responsible for developing the base programs. Not bad, not bad at all.” He grinned. “Don’t worry, I’ll continue to go easy on him, Uncle Bo.”
Mike said, “Bo, are you ready to open the scene and allow my people to come in and process the room? In addition to examining all of the technical security measures, they’re going to want to examine the replica for fingerprints. I can have them here in fifteen minutes and they’ll be done before the guests are allowed up here.”
Bo nodded. “Make the call. We’ll have to sneak them in; I still don’t want my security staff knowing the diamond is missing. Dress them as caterers; there are hundreds of them roaming around tonight.”
“Done.”
They heard the air lock hiss, and the door opened. Victoria Browning said, “Sir, we’re ready in the communication center whenever you are.” She cleared her throat. “I’d like it on the record I think this is a terrible idea. It’s my opinion as curator of the exhibit, we should follow protocol and shut down the museum.”
Nicholas got the sense this wasn’t the first time today Browning had said those words.
“Noted,” Bo said, “and I’ll make sure you’re the first in line to share your thoughts with the director, should our plan fail. At the very least, it might save your job, as well as the director’s. Can you manage getting our forensic techs into the exhibit without drawing any attention to them?”
“We’ll have to turn off the cameras for the exhibit room so the people in the comms center don’t realize we’re sneaking caterers in. And I know you don’t need reminding, but the jewels are priceless, and incredibly old. We must take special precautions during the evidence collection. As curator, it’s my head to roll if anything were to happen to the crown jewels during the course of the investigation.”
Mike said, “Anything more, you mean.”
Victoria shot her a look, but her voice was calm enough. “I’m fully aware that my head will roll if the Koh-i-Noor isn’t found and returned quickly.”
Mike said, “Sorry, Victoria. I didn’t mean to intimate you were at fault here. My people are the best, so you can relax. They won’t mess anything up.”
Victoria looked like she wanted to snipe back, but she took a breath and smiled. “We’re all under stress, Agent Caine. Let’s go get the video feeds uploaded to the NGI database.”
19
A bank of screens took up one entire wall in the massive communications center. Nicholas counted ten rows of five, with separate workstations monitoring access to every nook and cranny of the museum. It was impressive, and he said so.
Bo sighed. “Didn’t help us much when it turned out to be so easy to shut down the electricity.”
Nicholas said, “Maybe that means we should add a first-rate security expert to master thief. Narrow our focus even more.”
Mike said, “Or not. If you could get your hands on the device used to shut everything down, all you’d have to know is how to turn it on and where to fasten it.”
Of course she was right. He nodded.
The four of them went up a small set of stairs into Bo’s glass-walled office, elevated so he could see everything happening in the room. Bo’s phone rang, and he motioned for them to keep talking while he answered it.
Victoria said, “There’s a whole new round of staff about to come on the clock, and people are already starting to trickle in for the event.” She pointed at a monitor that clearly showed well-dressed people meandering up the entrance steps. The paparazzi hadn’t begun their frantic picture-taking yet; they were assembling on either side of the red carpet, waiting for the important and notorious to make an appearance. News vans were lined up on both sides of Fifth Avenue and as close as they could get on all the side streets.
“These early arrivals are probably planning to have a drink or a bite to eat before the gala begins, but the bulk of the people will start showing in less than two hours.”
Nicholas said, “We need to move fast, then. Mike, what’s your forensic team’s ETA?”
“They’re ten minutes out.”
Bo dropped the phone in the cradle. “You’re well in hand with Victoria, so I’m going to go get Savich and Sherlock over here. I’ll meet up with you in an hour or so.”
“Uncle Bo, call my mobile if you need anything.”
Mike sat at a terminal and started typing, pulling the two sets of data together. When the program began to run, a series of mug shots began streaming across the monitor, faster than the eye could keep up with. Nicholas noted that the facial-recognition technology used bone structure as points of reference. It would be accurate to the letter, should a match occur.
Mike said to Victoria, “While this gets started, tell me more about how Peter Grisley got permission to make the replicas. Could he have something to do with this?”
“I seriously doubt it. He was allowed to utilize the molds from the Queen Victoria cut done in Antwerp in 1852 to digitally map the Koh-i-Noor. He petitioned the palace to be allowed to make the replicas for a research project he was working on. Since they were fakes, no one was worried about them. We were wrong.”
Mike looked up from the keyboard. “What do you mean, the Queen Victoria cut?”
Victoria’s eyes lit up. “Oh, you don’t know the history of the stone? The Koh-i-Noor’s story is quite incredible. When it came into Queen Victoria’s possession in 1850, it was one hundred eighty-three carats, huge, but alas, hardly beautiful. It was dull and badly cut. Diamonds are meant to sparkle, and this one didn’t. At an exposition held to showcase it, it looked even less impressive because it was poorly displayed in a gilded cage on dark velvet. The public complained so much Prince Albert, the Queen’s consort, hired a lapidary named Coster from Antwerp to recut the stone from a rose cut to a brilliant, which would make it shine and glow and impress the British people with its beauty.
“When Coster was finished cutting and polishing the stone, it was down to a mere hundred and five carats; on the other hand, it was much prettier. Albert then had it made into a brooch for Queen Victoria. Over the years, it’s been the focal point of three crowns, Queen Alexandra’s, Queen Mary’s, and Queen Elizabeth’s.”
A mere hundred and five carats. Mike thought of her mother’s precious diamond solitaire, only a carat. Talk about a new perspective.
“Coster came under fire, actually, because the stone was so much smaller, though all the experts rushed to his defense, claimed he did the best with what he had. Nowadays, they might have been able to save more of the original stone, with the laser cuts and all, but back then, it was line things up as best you can, take a crack at it with a hammer, and pray.”
Nicholas
pictured a man in a leather apron sitting before the stone with a hammer and chisel in his hands, saying, “Please, God, please, God, please, God.” And whack. He knew it was slightly more complicated than that, but for the most part, luck, or the lack thereof, had played a large role.
Mike leaned back in the office chair, making it squeak. “I thought the name of the diamond was the Koh-i-Noor. Why is the exhibit called the Jewel of the Lion?”
Victoria was now lit up like a Christmas tree. “The Koh-i-Noor translates to Mountain of Light, but I didn’t think that flashy enough to draw the American crowds, but I did want to capture the history of the stone a bit, so I looked to the source—India. When England annexed Punjab in 1849, the youngest son of the Lion of Punjab himself, fourteen-year-old Maharaja Duleep Singh, was forced to hand over his family’s most priceless possession, the Koh-i-Noor diamond. Hence, Jewel of the Lion. Do you like it?”
Mike said, “Very much. It’s very dramatic. And no wonder the Indian people feel it was stolen from them. It was.”
Victoria said, “Incidentally, England annexed Singh, too—he was exiled to Britain for the rest of his life. The poor man wasn’t allowed to practice his religion or leave England for decades.”
Nicholas was tapping away at his laptop, pulled up a photo of the young Maharaja. “Well, maybe he wasn’t so pitiable. He cut quite a dashing figure in 1850s Victorian society, evidently charming everyone he met. He became a favorite of the queen—she was godmother to several of his children—and he was a well-known figure in Scotland, where they dubbed him the Black Prince of Perthshire, because he had darker skin than anyone was used to. He had two wives and eight children, but the line died with them. He was, quite literally, the end of an era.”
Mike stared at the photo of a young man, slender and beautifully dressed all in gray. He had expressive dark eyes, and he stood alone and proud for the camera. There was no insolence to mar that unsmiling mouth, but still, Maharaja Duleep Singh managed to radiate an air of defiance. She wondered if he’d come to accept, even love his new country, given all the honors and attention heaped on him by the queen herself and Victorian society. She asked, “Did Queen Elizabeth like the exhibit name?”
Victoria grinned again. “I don’t know if she liked it, but she approved it.”
Nicholas said, “Do you know the Koh-i-Noor has only ever belonged to the women of the Royal Family because of the curse?”
20
Mike said, “There’s a curse? What curse? Come on, Nicholas, you’re joking.”
“I don’t joke about curses. It says only women are allowed to have the diamond because it brings bad luck to any man who tries to wear it. Trace its history. India, Pakistan, Iran—all historically led by men, and they all lost the diamond in huge, bloody battles. Terrible losses, families killed and torn apart. This went on for generations.”
Victoria said, “He’s right. The original curse was first seen in 1306 in a Hindu text. He who owns this diamond will own the world, but will also know all its misfortunes. Only God, or a woman, can wear it with impunity.”
Mike said, “But why can only women wear it?”
Victoria said, “I’ve done quite a bit of research on this question. Back in that era, women were greatly valued, as sages, gurus, even magicians. There were several goddesses in the holy texts, and the various sects worshipped the feminine, or Shakti. Women were considered pure, unlike men, who would do anything to get what they wanted.
“Indian legend says the Koh-i-Noor is the very first diamond in existence, and belonged to the sun god Surya, who bestowed it to Krishna. It was stolen from him by a servant, and because of this treachery, the treachery of a single man, the curse was born.”
Mike asked, “Are there any more replicas out there?”
Victoria said, “Only the two. One is here in the crown, and the other is still missing. Hence their creator’s panicked call to me. Grisley is in some serious trouble. He should have had them properly secured, but I think this situation is going to make his problem seem minor. There is something else—” Victoria’s tone changed.
Nicholas’s alarm bells went off. His voice was sharp. “What?”
“Elaine York oversaw the testing of the diamond when it arrived here at the Met. She used a standard diamond tester to check all of the jewels. You are welcome to watch the video feed; you see her testing the Koh-i-Noor, smiling and saying, ‘Brilliant. All’s well, then,’ and they close up the vitrine case.”
She shrugged. “I don’t know why we’re dancing around this. It seems clear what happened. It was said all roads lead to Rome, or in this case, Elaine York. And she is, most conveniently, dead. And the diamond is gone.”
Nicholas said flatly, “You are being disrespectful to a New Scotland Yard inspector who’s been murdered and is unable to defend herself. We will not indict her without a shred of evidence. Do you read me?”
Victoria didn’t back down. “I’m sorry the idea upsets you, Nicholas, but facts are facts.”
Mike said, “Tell me, Victoria, what did you think of Elaine York? You worked with her for months, both long-distance and in person. What leads you to think Elaine had something to do with this?”
“Fact is, I wasn’t suspicious until the diamond disappeared. I thought she was a very nice woman, competent and focused. We even had drinks and dinner together on occasion.” Victoria looked over at Nicholas. “Elaine even spoke to me about you.”
“Did she, now?”
She nodded. “Don’t worry, she said only that the two of you had been close, once upon a time. She said you had a fascinating family and a very old home with a ghost. She also said you lied very well, but only when you had to, and she knew she could always trust you. But no matter now. The diamond is gone, and she’s gone as well. As I see it, either Inspector York was deeply involved, or something much worse is at play here.”
What could be worse? Nicholas wondered.
A red light began flashing on the screen in front of Mike. She stared at the screen. “Well, I’ll be. There’s a match. We’ve got ourselves a criminal in the house.”
Nicholas bent over the screen. A man’s dark face stared back at him, large and rectangular and hard, with dark hair and eyes, a flat nose, and a thin, sneering mouth.
Mike said, “I didn’t expect this, I really didn’t.”
Nicholas said, “What’s wrong? We wanted a crook, and we have one.”
“Unfortunately, this guy is dead as a doornail at the morgue. Meet Vladimir Kochen, the dead man we found in Elaine’s apartment.”
21
Thursday, 5:00 p.m.
Nicholas said, “I want to go to Brighton Beach and see Anatoly right now. He’s in this. This Vladimir Kochen character coming to the Met proves it.”
Mike said, “I know, but it’s a forty-minute drive at the best of times. Right now the traffic will be obscene, even with the lights and sirens. We’d never make it there and back in time for the start of the gala. We’ve got to stay here and keep looking.” She paused for a moment, made a decision. “Let me make a quick call.” She called out, “Victoria, will you excuse us for a moment?”
Victoria looked annoyed by the dismissal, but after her little speech about Elaine, Nicholas couldn’t care less if she was pissed.
He stared after her. “You know, I really don’t like that woman.” He turned back to Mike, watched her speed-dial a number.
“Ben? Please send three or four agents, a good show of force, to pick up Andrei Anatoly and bring him in for questioning—have them tell him it’s about the murder of Elaine York. FYI, we just got an NGI hit on one of his men, Vladimir Kochen. Name sound familiar? The bastard was here, at the museum, so you know Anatoly is somewhere in the mix. Right. Thanks, Ben.”
She drummed her fingers on the counter. “Ben Houston is from Art Crimes. He knew Inspector York. About the match—the moment
Dillon Savich identified Kochen as one of Anatoly’s soldiers, I knew he had to be involved in the theft. We need to move quickly. Truth is, Anatoly wouldn’t cop to anything, even to save his own son. And guess what else? We don’t have a shred of proof tying him to this, only coincidence.”
“Tell me about him.”
Her voice went cold. “Anatoly is not a good man. He has lawyers so slimy you’d think they came right out of the primordial ooze. We can rattle his cage, let him know we know he’s involved. But we can’t hold him, not without something solid.”
Nicholas wasn’t used to waiting for his prey to come to him, but he didn’t see that he had much of a choice. He nodded curtly.
Mike’s phone buzzed with a text message. She glanced at the screen. “It’s the crew. They’re at the loading dock. Let’s go down and get them.”
Victoria knocked on the door, opened it. “Mike, forgive me for intruding, but your team is here.”
“Yep, they texted me. Let’s go get them.”
“No, I’ll go,” Victoria said. “I need to get them through security. You two keep doing what you’re doing. About the match on your system, Mike, I know the man. I saw him having lunch with Elaine last week.”
She started to leave, and Nicholas grabbed her arm.
“Talk.”
She stilled and looked down at his hand, at his fingers encircling her arm.
He released her immediately, inclined his head. “Apologies, Dr. Browning. Please, tell us what you know.”
She looked at her arm, her jaw tightened. “I don’t know anything more. I simply saw Elaine having lunch with him here in the museum café. They seemed chummy. I didn’t get the sense she felt she was in danger, but I hardly paid attention. I’ll be back shortly. If I’m allowed to proceed.”