Page 48 of The Furies

And there it was.

“Wouldn’t there be consequences for reneging on the arrangement?” I said.

“I doubt it,” she said. “The middleman dealer would keep quiet because he wanted the money—and some of the coins, too, because he was also a collector. The Athens collector is old, from what Egon told me, and he and Egon never met face-to-face. What’s he going to do, call the FBI and tell them that the robbery he helped arrange didn’t work out the way he’d planned? He’d have no choice but to suck it up.”

Hundreds of thousands of dollars for one coin, aside from the rest, was a lot of sucking up to do. If I were Egon Towle and Raum Buker, I might be worried. An elderly man wouldn’t have much to lose by pointing the finger at them.

“Is the dealer aware of the source of the coins?” I said.

“What do you think?”

“Whatever happened to honor among thieves?”

“It died with Watergate, and it always did have a price. For most anyone, the proceeds from the sale of those coins would represent life-changing money.”

I noticed the stress on the word “most,” and the curl of her upper lip.

“But not for Raum and Egon,” I said.

“No, not for them, because each of them is dumb in his own fashion. Egon will use his half to buy more coins. I might see a little of what he makes, but not much. Otherwise, his life won’t change one bit, because he likes it just the way it is. As for Raum, if you gave him a skewer, it would turn to a corkscrew in his hand. That man was born crooked, and he’ll die the same way. Money won’t alter him for the better.”

I was no longer listening. Her brother’s character was of scant interest to me, and I was as familiar with Raum Buker’s as I needed to be. What interested me now was this man Kepler, because if items so valuable had been stolen from him, he would undoubtedly be making efforts to retrieve them. He would be alert to any signs of his collection being offered for sale so that he could pounce on the seller. At the same time, he would be hunting the thieves, and my guess was that he was already aware of their identities, because every crime leaves a trail. If I was right, Kepler had made his presence known at the home of Ambar Strange, and in Raum’s bathroom at the Braycott, yet he had not so far resorted to brute force.

“Has your brother found a buyer for the coin?” I asked.

“I don’t think so. The problem is Kepler. No one is going to want to acquire that coin as long as he’s looking for it. I mean, who wants to die for a myth?”

“So Raum and your brother will have to wait him out?”

“Assuming the story, unlikely as it sounds, is true,” said Eleanor. “If it isn’t, they’ll be forced to rethink their strategy, if what they’re doing even passes for a strategy.”

She tapped a finger on the table, and the lamplight caught the gleam in her eye.

“But as soon as Kepler dies, the auction starts.”

CHAPTER LV

At the Great Lost Bear, amid the sounds of music, conversation, and laughter, amid normality, Dave Evans stared at the pair of dice on the table. Like the housekeeper Floriana, he had immediately spotted the peculiarity of their manufacture, and could only guess at their antiquity. He thought they might have been made from bone—animal, he hoped, but possibly not. Whatever their origin, he recognized with absolute certainty that it would be unwise to touch them.

“I don’t gamble,” said Dave.

The stranger tapped his fingers on the table in time to a cadence only he could hear. He blinked heavily, his eyelids descending slowly and ascending more slowly still, as though the tarsal plates within were formed of lead. His eyes flicked wetly to Dave.

“I wasn’t proposing a cash wager, just a game of chance,” he said. “You win, you get to ask me a question. I win, I ask you. These are low stakes. The emperor Claudius once bet four hundred thousand sesterces on a roll of the dice.”

Dave noticed that his voice was possessed of a peculiar reverberation, a form of distortion that gave the impression of two people vocalizing at once, each with a slightly different timbre.

“What do you have to lose,” the stranger persisted, “except time?”

Dave had been in the hospitality business for most of his life. During those years he’d learned to spot badness early, because it saved a lot of aggravation. Some individuals, he knew, tried to disguise their iniquity, while others failed even to recognize the fact of its existence, so estranged were they from their own true nature. But then there were those who chose to advertise their wickedness, or could no more hide it than they could the color of their skin or the rise and fall of their breathing; were the very marrow of their bones to be examined, it would be adjudged polluted. With such men—for men they often were—it was best to avoid all discourse and dealings, but when faced with them, one could not display weakness. If they were hell-bent on confrontation, only courage would give them pause.

“With respect,” said Dave, “I don’t believe you have anything I need to know.”

The stranger picked up the dice, shook them in his right hand, and dropped them on the table. They showed a double six.

“There was a gentleman in here a while back,” he said. “I believe he was involved in a fracas. His name is Mr. Raum Buker. I’m eager to make his acquaintance. You think he might again be gracing your establishment with his presence anytime soon?”

“I don’t believe you heard me right,” said Dave.

---