Mike said, “This place isn’t very secure.”
“If it were one of the banks, this would never happen. They’d have to drill the lock out. There’s no guarantee of safety in a place like this.” He looked down at the paperwork. “Cheeky girl—she rented the box in the name Duleep Singh.”
Mike asked, “Duleep Singh? The last rightful owner of the Koh-i-Noor, before it was handed over to the British, right?”
“Yes. She’s playing games with us.”
The boy came back with the master key, opened the lock of the safe-deposit box, and quickly stepped back. Nicholas pulled the gray plastic box from the wall.
It was light. His heart began to pound. Was this it? Had they found the Koh-i-Noor?
Without waiting to set it on a table, he opened the box. There was only a piece of paper inside.
“I’d hoped it was the diamond. No such luck.”
He pulled out the paper. There was a list of numbers. No rhyme or reason to them that he could see.
“What is it?”
Mike took the paper from him and studied it. “Bank accounts. They’re consistent, each with thirteen numbers. Numbered accounts. We better let Savich throw this into the mix.”
“What’s that written on the back?”
She flipped the paper. Written in an elegant cursive were eight words. This is all you get. Leave me alone.
Mike said, “Do you think this is directed at us, or to someone else?”
Nicholas looked down at the message. “It has to be someone else, since she shouldn’t know we’re here. But we’re a step closer.”
He saw the young man watching them warily.
Nicholas dropped the box and crossed the floor in three steps, grabbed the boy’s collar, and jerked him up on his toes, got right in his face. “What else did she do while she was here?”
“N-Nothing, sir.”
“You’re lying. Did she buy another box?”
The boy was silent. Nicholas shook him. “Which one is it?”
“She didn’t, I swear.”
He said to Mike, “Call Menard, have him send over his officers to arrest this man.”
“Wait. Wait. Okay. She did rent one more box.”
Nicholas let him go. “So she paid you to keep quiet about it, did she, Tomas? Too late now. Open it.”
This box was heavier than the first. Nicholas carried it to the small Formica-covered table in the center of the room. He began to lift the lid, saw a flash of blue velvet and the clear, clean lines of molten glass.
The Koh-i-Noor.
Then the lid caught. He stopped and, holding his breath, he slowly and carefully allowed it to close.
“Everyone, don’t move.” Still holding the lid carefully closed, he fished in his pocket for his Swiss Army knife with its small attached flashlight.
He eased down onto his haunches until he was eye level with the edge of the lid, and keeping it less than an inch open, flashed the light inside.
There was the Koh-i-Noor in the box. Surrounded by wires.
Bloody hell.
He thanked the Almighty for the instincts that had just kept them all alive, and gently laid down the lid. Without moving, without raising his voice, he said, “Mike, it’s rigged to blow. Get the boy and walk outside. I’m right behind you.”
She didn’t hesitate, grabbed Tomas’s arm. “Come with me, right now.”
When he was sure they were safely outside, Nicholas carefully eased his hand from the lid, praying he hadn’t jostled the bomb. It was meant to explode the moment the lid was lifted past a quarter of the way open.
He slowly and silently backed away. He was still in one piece, which meant he hadn’t tripped the pressure switch. It didn’t mean they were safe, there could be a secondary timer, or it could work on a mobile signal, like the bomb in New York. It was surely divine intervention they all hadn’t been blown to kingdom come.