“I imagine so. Unfortunately, it’s going to get longer. The media is having a field day with Elaine York’s murder. I’ve already seen it reported on every major station. The talking heads are going nuts, wondering what it could all mean, some of them even questioning the safety of the crown jewels here in the U.S. As for the BBC, they’re about ready to pick up pitchforks and light torches and come rescue their jewels. And they even know about Kochen’s connection to Anatoly, and you can only imagine what they’re saying.”
He’d seen CNN as they’d walked through the terminal, but hadn’t said anything to her about it. “Well, at least they don’t know anything about the missing Koh-i-Noor yet.”
“Yet being the operative word here. If we don’t get the diamond back before the news breaks—” She shuddered. “It doesn’t bear thinking about.”
No, he thought, it doesn’t. They were both silent. Finally, Mike said, “Hear me out, okay? Let’s say Elaine York was in on the theft from the beginning. Why? Money, I guess, lots and lots of money. She was matched up with the Russian thug, stole the diamond for his people, and both of them were killed, probably by the people she was going to pass the diamond off to. That could mean Anatoly’s already got the Koh-i-Noor and York and Kochen’s murderer was another one of his soldiers.”
He couldn’t very well shoot her, since she was driving. He said only, his voice mild, “That’s one possibility. Next?”
“Or Inspector York found out about a plan to steal the jewel, tried to put a stop to it, and got herself killed.”
“As my uncle Bo rightly pointed out, she’d have come to him immediately if she suspected something. That won’t wash.”
She swerved around a manic bicycle messenger. “Whoa. Idiot. All right. Putting Inspector York aside, is there a market for the Koh-i-Noor out there?”
“There are private collectors who would literally pay anything to get their hands on something this unique. Not to mention the leaders of the countries who think the Koh-i-Noor belongs to them. India asks for it back annually. Pakistan lays claim to it, as does Iran. All three had the Koh-i-Noor in their possession at one time or another, though India held it the longest. Queen Victoria was simply the last to get her hands on it.”
“Iran and Pakistan? Could we be dealing with a nationalist with a major grudge?”
“I don’t think it’s about a pissed-off nationalist, not with Anatoly involved. I suppose it could be about cutting the diamond into pieces for quick sale, but that doesn’t play for me. The Koh-i-Noor is far more valuable left intact.”
“Then we’re talking about a private collector. Like Anatoly.”
Nicholas said, “If he has unlimited funds, then yes. If not Anatoly, there are at least a dozen more I can think of to fit the bill.”
16
1000 Fifth Avenue, Manhattan
The Metropolitan Museum of Art
Thursday, noon
The Metropolitan Museum of Art sat squarely on Fifth Avenue at Eighty-second Street, with Central Park its lovely backdrop. Three huge banners advertising the Jewel of the Lion exhibit hung from the parapets between the huge columns—purple, red, and gold—each with story-high silk-screened portraits of the crown that housed the Koh-i-Noor diamond.
Mike turned off the flasher and siren a few blocks away so they wouldn’t announce themselves and make people wonder. She edged the car into a small space a block east of the Met. In front of the museum, people scurried about, and the American flag snapped in the chilly breeze as they walked past.
Nicholas looked up and couldn’t help himself: he saw the perfect angles for an attack sniper, counted five possible eagle’s nests for shooters, watched the traffic barreling by and the dozens of people walking the streets.
Nothing would happen, but the thought of it made the hair rise on the back of his neck. He pictured Elaine, carefree and alive, walking up the steps, on this same path daily for the past four months. All her energy, all her time, focused on this one place.