Savich said, “He’ll go along when you remind him the Met will have to pony up the indemnity the museum paid for.”
Bo said, “I may be able to sell it to the director, but I’ll have to swear on the head of my sainted mother that I’ll get the Koh-i-Noor back. He’ll buy keeping it quiet for the time being; he’ll realize it would ruin him as well as the rest of us. And if Elaine wasn’t involved, the thief could possibly show up tonight. If we manage to keep it quiet. He won’t know we’re aware the diamond’s missing.”
Sherlock said, “The thief has to be someone intimate with all the security systems you have in place, Bo, who knows any inherent weaknesses, the triggers, everything. Someone close to the exhibit, and close to you. Someone you trust. Will he show up tonight? Very possibly. To deflect any suspicion, to give him more time to do whatever it is he plans to do with the Koh-i-Noor. Or he’s long gone as we speak.”
Savich said, “And if Elaine York was murdered for her involvement, then there is indeed someone else involved, someone dangerous, someone who’s already committed murder.”
They all took that in, then Bo said, “We don’t want to tip our hand too early. I’ll need something to explain why all three of you are here.”
“Uncle Bo, you can tell the Met staff and your people that you’ve been surprised with a new foreign dignitary coming to the gala tonight. That will explain the FBI’s presence. You can explain my presence with the truth: I’m here to find out who murdered my inspector.”
Bo rubbed his square jaw for a moment. “That will work. The key to this is to watch everyone close to the exhibit who shows tonight at the gala. If anyone doesn’t show, then we’ll know they’re involved, and can take immediate action. I’ll tell you, I’m ready to track the guy to the ends of the earth.”
Sherlock said, “Either our thief is also a murderer or he isn’t. Either he’s long gone and doesn’t show for work or he thinks we’re idiots and wants to come see the show.”
Bo no longer looked like he wanted to shoot himself. He was rubbing his hands together. “We can do this. Nick, I’ll have someone at the airport to meet you and bring you directly to the Met.”
Nicholas closed down the call and shut his eyes. How much time could they buy? Things like this got out even when you’d swear they wouldn’t.
One of his uncle’s phrases stuck in his mind, replaying itself on a loop. It was a master thief.
A master thief who’d managed to get through Uncle Bo’s security checks. Elaine as a suspect was ridiculous. He’d never believe it, never, but a master thief, someone either hired to pull off a theft of this magnitude or acting of their own accord to try and sell the diamond on the black market, yes, that made more sense. No run-of-the-mill sort of thief, either. This was the work of a pro. A legend.
He had a place to start. Find the thief, clear Elaine. It became his mantra.
He was due to land at JFK at 11:10 a.m. He reset his vintage Breitling to eastern time, calculated that the flight had a bit more than two hours left. Plenty of time to develop a list of the top thieves in the world.
10
New York, New York
201 East 36th Street
Inspector Elaine York’s apartment
Thursday, 2:00 a.m.
Mike pulled her Glock from its holster and flipped on the light switch beside the door. She cleared the corners, Glock swinging in a careful arc, as she made her way through the entry hall and right into the living room.
Paulie said from behind her, “Oh, not good.”
Mike edged farther into the room, gun still at the ready, saw a dead man, face congested with blood, his body half on, half off the couch. She didn’t see any blood, or wounds. What happened, Elaine? Did you and this guy fight and you both lost? But how did you get in the East River?