Текст книги "The Final Cut"
Автор книги: Catherine Coulter
Соавторы: J. T. Ellison
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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 27 страниц)
17
Browning pulled a folder out of the slim black briefcase she’d set on the floor beside her. “Here’s the duty roster for the past three days, including tonight’s staffing for the ball. We have a huge security team in place.” She shook her head and Nicholas noticed the small gold hoops in her ears. “This theft doesn’t make any sense at all. I know everyone who works here. They work here because they love art and love our museum. They’d never do anything to hurt us.”
Mike said, “No one’s been acting strangely over the past few days?”
Dr. Browning shook her head again, making the earrings dance. “Nothing has happened to point suspicion. We were refused all vacation requests for the first three weeks of the exhibit, so it’s all hands on deck.” She frowned slightly. “Except Elaine. She’d never taken a sick day before, and, of course, the day of the power outage, poof, off she goes. Anyway, there’s a new shift coming in at four o’clock this afternoon to staff the ball; we’ll have to make sure everyone’s accounted for.”
Nicholas said, “The diamond isn’t exactly a large item to steal. It could have been slipped into someone’s pocket, and walked right out the door.”
“Yes, that’s true. At one hundred five carats, it’s a massive diamond, but small enough to fit in your hand. We have the files for everyone who’s been in the museum since the exhibit arrived and we’re going through the video feeds to see who was where and when. Assuming the diamond was switched during the five minutes of missing video feed, we’re checking the cameras to see if anyone was out of place, leading up to that time, and afterward.”
Mike said, “If the diamond is still on-site, it could be anywhere.”
“Yes. All the staffers who started their shifts this morning have been asked to stay on until dismissed by Mr. Horsley. They’ve complied, but everyone knows something’s up. Something major. We won’t be able to keep this quiet much longer. Our rumor mill is as big as our staff.”
The elevator stopped on the fifth floor. Dr. Browning led them down a corridor, their heels echoing in the cavernous silence, through a few turns, then to a gray steel door guarded by two men wearing the black fatigues of Bo’s security firm. She said, “VIP tour, guys. We’ll be about ten minutes or so.” They stood aside without a word, and Nicholas noticed they both carried Glock .40s. Bo wasn’t kidding—the security staff was loaded for bear.
Dr. Browning put her palm in the reader and waited for the beep. She said to Mike, “Another layer of security, the biometric reader.” She swiped her pass in the reader and entered a code. The door hissed when it broke free of its seal. She said, “This is a low-oxygen environment; it helps keep things nice and fresh. Here we are.”
The room was dark, but at its center were three long vitrine cases softly lit from within and full of incredible artifacts—gold and jewel-handled daggers and swords, brilliant earrings and glittering tiaras, and scores of intricately carved gold boxes, all from the Tower of London.
In the elevated middle vitrine, clearly the star of the show, sat the queen mother’s beautiful crown on its bed of purple velvet. Nicholas had seen it several times, and it always took his breath away. The history of the jewels aside, they were bloody gorgeous.
And the Koh-i-Noor. Enhanced by the special display lighting, the brilliant diamond shined bright as the stars from its home in the stunning crown. It was insanely large, oval, and the size of an egg. And it was a fake. No one would be able to tell the difference tonight at the gala, no one.
There was a note of awe in Mike’s voice. “This is quite impressive, Dr. Browning, but—”
She interrupted smoothly, with a smile. “Do call me Victoria, please. I know. This stone doesn’t look fake at all, does it? It’s really rather magnificent. That is because it’s a perfect replica of the original Koh-i-Noor, which, trust me, is even more spectacular, at least to a trained eye. This replica fits the setting like it was made for it, which technically it was.”
Nicholas leaned in for a closer look. “I would never know the difference. Tell us again why you tested it?”
Victoria said, “I received a call from Peter Grisley, who was hired several years ago to digitally map the Koh-i-Noor. There are some great stories about it online, published in a number of places. I’ll get one of my guys to pull it all together for you. Someone broke into his workshop and stole his replicas, but he doesn’t know when it happened, because he’s a snowbird and has been in Arizona since November. He came home for a weekend before flying here to see the exhibit and realized that his replicas were missing, so he called us immediately, knowing something must be up.” She paused, staring at the display and said, “Boy, was he ever right.”
18
The air lock hissed, and Bo Horsley came into the exhibit room with a big smile and his arms out.
“Nicholas Drummond. I’m so glad you’re here.”
Uncle Bo looked so much like Nicholas’s mother it was unnerving at times. They hugged, slapping each other on the back. Nicholas said, “It’s good to see you, Uncle Bo.”
“I’m sorry it had to be this way, Nick, but I’m very glad you came. Mike, thanks for picking Nick up at JFK. You don’t look bad for a woman who was up all night.”
She shook Bo’s hand. “I only need an hour or two of sleep to stay upright with all this adrenaline pumping through my veins. I knew retirement wouldn’t suit you. You’ve been gone only six weeks, yet here you are, back on the treadmill.”
“And what a treadmill—listen, Mike, I don’t know anyone from Federal Plaza other than you that I’d rather have hunting for the blasted diamond, and finding out why Inspector York was killed. Thanks for being so discreet.” He paused, blasted a big smile at Nicholas. “And now you’ve got my boy here to help you. First off, let me assure you the director of the Met is on board with our plan—no choice, really, since he wants to save his job, his reputation, not to mention all the money the Met would have to pony up. Nick, did you get Mike up to date on what we think happened?”
Nicholas nodded.
“Good. I have something for you.”
Bo dropped a small white box into Mike’s hand. She looked at it closely, turned it over a few times.
“Is that what I think it is?” Nicholas asked.
Mike smiled. “If you’re thinking it’s a relay capacitor for an EMP, yes.” She turned to Bo. “Where did you get this?”
“Turned up in a sweep of the basement. This is how the thief turned off the power yesterday.”
Mike cocked her head to one side, looked back at the fake Koh-i-Noor, tossed the relay into the air and caught it, then murmured, “Five floors away.” She looked up. “I realize the most likely scenario is that the thief stole the Koh-i-Noor during the five-minute power outage, which means he or she had an inside helper, someone who could have attached this very effective device to the museum’s electrical grid to shut everything down while the thief was switching out the diamonds. I’m thinking we have to look at everyone again, not only the people with direct contact with the diamond.”
Bo grinned like a bandit at her. “Smart as a whip,” he said to Nicholas. “You’re exactly right, Mike. We’re not talking about a dozen or so staff, we’re talking the whole ocean of Met employees. We’ve pulled the files for every employee within spitting distance of the exhibit, but it isn’t a small group, believe me, and then there are the delivery people and students and the public who are in day and night. Cross-referencing our security video from the museum with the FBI’s new NGI program—next-generation identification facial-recognition technology—will at least get us in the ballpark if there’s anyone with a record who’s been in and out of the museum around the time of the power outage.
“And another little spanner in the works: we realized the five-minute power outage also wiped the tapes of at least a minute before everything went black, so checking the basement stairs probably won’t show us our inside guy. But we’ll see. Can you handle integrating the NGI system with our video feeds, Nick?”
“Not a problem.”
“Good. Victoria, your job is to make sure no one suspects there’s a problem. This is business as usual, a last-minute test of all our security systems before the gala tonight. Would you please get the video feed from the day of the power outage for Nicholas and Mike so they can get started matching it to the NGI database? See if we’ve hosted any criminals over the past few days.”
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.”
