Page 2 of Hidden Dane
The younger officer straightened and smoothed his jacket. “We believe one of your father’s ancestors bought the set in auction in 1907 and has kept them in a Paris bank until World War Two, when they were placed in a London bank.”
The Irish Crown Jewels would technically be English, and if they were located in London, this seemed like a UK problem. Uriel picked up a pen that had fallen off his desk and set it back in the cup holder. “Why haven’t the London police just raided the box and taken back their stolen goods?”
The older man explained, “The trail doesn’t have a lot ofevidenceto back it up.” His pale cheeks turned pink.
Which meant they didn’t have a warrant to technically raid something he’d inherited. He wanted no part of the theft or jewels. “No, it probably wouldn’t.”
He stood to show the CIA officers out. If they were right and he owned this box, he’d discover the contents on his own time. First, he needed to finish the paperwork and head to Canada.
The two men also rose, but then the older agent asked, “Do you know a Ted Vet San?”
Ted. The blond man in his thirties whose scarred face made him seem much, much older, loved to torment him, taunting Uriel, spreading rumors, saying that Uriel would never truly be a great archeologist. He could ignore all of that, but weeks ago, Ted had stolen the Incan statue destined for a museum in Peru, then disappeared. Uriel widened his stance with a curt nod. “Yes. I know him. Why?”
The African American agent flicked the cuffs on his dark gray suit. His accent deepened. “He tried to break into your father’s box and is now likely going to wherever you stored this necklace, as it’s supposedly the key.”
They knew about that necklace?
The officer took out his phone and showed him the rose garland, which was five blossoms with pavé-set diamond petals, old-cut diamond collet stamens, and emerald detail, linked by pavé-set diamond twigs and leaves, enhanced by emerald berries, mounted in platinum. He’d inherited the piece after his mother’s murder and it wasn’t famous stolen jewelry. His entire body was cold.
On Emily’s prom night, he’d given that to her in lieu of traditional flowers as she’d admired it.
Emily Mira’s blue eyes still haunted him years later, though he hadn’t been in touch since. Something zipped inside him that he now had an excuse to see her. “My mother’s necklace.”
“Do you have this in your possession?” the older agent asked.
Uriel narrowed his gaze. “Why would that matter?”
A hint of pink flushed his face. “We believe Ted is on his way to the US with a team of his people to retrieve the necklace.”
His pulse skipped. Emily was in danger. This was all his fault. His chest ached so badly that he felt like the tin man about to get a heart. He lifted his chin. “I’m not saying another word until I know what you want.”
The older man said, “Our country is willing to pay you for your private property.”
Just compensation was part of the constitution, so they weren’t offering anything special. He looked at both officers. “And you want to give it back to England?”
“Yes.” The younger man pocketed his phone inside the gray suit jacket.
“Okay. I’ll help, but I need information.” And if Ted was on his way to Emily, then he needed to extract her from any danger. Which meant see her again. His hairs on his arms stood straight up. “What does theBelle Epogue Diamond and Emerald Egalantinenecklace created by Cartier have to do with the bank?”
The younger man shrugged and drawled in a low voice, “It’s the key. You need to present this as a means to get in the bank box.”
“What happened to pins, finger prints, eye retina scans, and modern security?” Uriel thought a necklace seemed like a silly answer for security.
The older man answered, “This was arranged long before computers. The bank honors its agreements, though if you show up with the necklace, they’ll want you to update your security settings. We believe Ted Vet San is actively trying to take it from wherever you stashed your necklaceas we speakso he can access your vault and steal the Irish Crown Jewels.”
The CIA certainly knew a lot about his box—more than he did. But the necklace didn’t matter. First he’d save Emily, get his mother’s necklace and then head to England and open the box himself. If they were right, he’d give it to the CIA or directly to the British Crown. The English Crown Jewels would be displayed and he’d have helped solve a crime from over a century ago. All he needed to do was be fast, but he had his own jet. What he’d say to Emily was the only question, but for now he nodded. “I’ll have to beat him then. I’ll call you once we return.”
Without another word, he left the officers in his office behind him and motioned toward Brady, who often traveled with him on sabbaticals to handle computer scans and modern questions regarding archeology. Brady had been sitting patiently on a wooden bench in the hall and clearly texting with Henry about going on another adventure to stop Ted Vet San. “Brady, let’s go.”
“Where are we going?” Brady asked as the two men walked back out into the cool fall air.
Emily, in an emerald green silk prom dress, floated to his mind. “To Gainesville, Florida.”
Brady wore the look of horror that only a true Harvard professor might have for even mentioning a public university. “What’s there? I thought we needed to go to London for something already in your possession.”
Brady had obviously listened to the conversation in his office. Would he say anything? If Uriel could keep his past a secret from his colleagues then no one might judge him as the son of a man whose father murdered his mother. Uriel directed them toward his black Mercedes. “I don’t know what’s in that box. I’ll go find out for the CIA, but first I need to get the necklace back.”
“You don’t have it.” Brady opened his own door. Once Uriel was in the driver’s seat he asked, “What did you do with it then?”
