Page 15 of The Furies

“And now that he’s on the scene again?” I asked.

“I hear he’d like things to return to the way they were.”

He looked embarrassed by what this implied. I could hardly blame him.

“How do the Sisters Strange feel about that?” I said.

“Dolors says she doesn’t want him in her life again, not that way, and that I shouldn’t worry about it. She says it’s never going to happen.”

“And Ambar?”

“According to Dolors,” said Quinn, “Ambar is shakier.”

“Then why were the two of them keeping company with Raum at a bowling alley over in Westbrook a few nights back?”

“I wasn’t aware of that.”

“The question stands.”

Will just shrugged miserably.

“I really don’t know.”

CHAPTER XVI

Reuben Hapgood was seated directly opposite the man who called himself Kepler. The cats were keeping their distance, which was unusual for them. They were attention seekers, and weren’t above curling up in a customer’s lap if he sat still for long enough, but the newcomer had triggered their survival instinct, which also went for Reuben himself. No one had ever pointed a gun at him before, but he was operating on the basis that anyone who bothered to introduce one into a conversation might be prepared to use it, too.

Reuben had heard of Kepler. He believed he might even have sold him coins on a few occasions: though the buyer had been anonymous, and the payment was made by money order, the box number to which the items were sent had rung bells for two of Reuben’s associates. They’d warned Reuben to make sure that everything about the coins was in order, because Kepler had a reputation, although neither of the dealers could pinpoint its origins, or tell him anything about the buyer beyond the fact that he wasn’t one to be underestimated.

“I saw an advertisement on the dark web,” said Kepler. “I have reason to believe you might have placed it.”

Reuben made the mistake of mulling over his reply, so that by the time he’d formulated it, the opportunity for dissembling had already passed.

“I occasionally use the dark web,” said Reuben, “but I prefer not to.”

“Except when you’re selling items of dubious provenance, or anything that might attract the attention of the authorities.”

“One has to be cautious. You know that. Even a false accusation can be time-consuming to deal with, and hard to disprove. You’re a collector.”

“But not a thief,” said Kepler.

“Neither am I.”

“You act on behalf of thieves.”

“I act on behalf of sellers,” said Reuben, “some of whom, uncommonly, I concede may be thieves,” he concluded lamely.

By his right foot one of the cats meowed, as though chiding him for his evasiveness. Kepler frowned at it. The change in expression caused a sore to open by the right side of his nose. It leaked clear fluid that ran down his cheek. Kepler dabbed at it with a finger, and his nose wrinkled in disgust, like a man smelling his own imminent mortality.

“Only a thief,” said Kepler, “would be in possession of a Two Emperor.”

The Two Emperor being offered for sale on the dark web was among the rarest coins in the world, dating from the ninth century. On one side it depicted King Alfred of Wessex, also known as Alfred the Great, alongside King Ceolwulf II of Mercia, who had largely been erased from history. The other side featured Alfred alone. Just two such coins had ever appeared on the open market. The first had been found in 1840, the second more than a century later. A minimum bid of $50,000 had been placed on the coin being sold via the dark web, but the true value was in excess of $100,000.

“How can you be sure?” said Reuben.

“Two reasons,” said Kepler, “with the first of which you’re already familiar. Given the rarity of Two Emperors, any offered for sale could only have come from a treasure trove that had been discovered and not reported to the relevant authorities in Britain. It would, therefore, be stolen property by definition. In this particular case, though, it also happens to be my stolen property, because I am familiar with every mark on it. It’s one of some two hundred coins that were taken from my personal collection not long ago.”

“I suppose,” said Reuben, “that it would be pointless to request proof of ownership.”

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