Surely a detective comes across jewels, if only stolen ones.
Bell looked at him sharply. How did you know I was a detective?
Riker shrugged. When I agree to hunt for a significant gem, I first investigate whether the client can afford it or is merely wishing he can.
Detectives aren't rich.
Those who inherit Boston banking fortunes are, Mr. Bell. Forgive me if I seemed to intrude on your privacy, but I think you can understand that gathering information about my customers is a necessary part of doing business. I have a small operation. I can't afford to spend weeks hunting stones for a client who turns out to have eyes bigger than his stomach.
I understand, said Bell. I presume you understand why I don't bandy it about?
Of course, sir. Your secrets are safe with me. Though I did wonder when I discovered who you are how a successful detective keeps out of the limelight.
By avoiding cameras and portraitists.
But it would seem that the more criminals you catch the more famous you will be.
Hopefully, said Bell, only among criminals behind bars. Riker laughed. Well said, sir. Come, here I am talking a blue streak. The waiter is hovering. We must order our dinner.
Behind him, Bell heard Arnold Bennett announcing, This is the first time I ever dined A la carte on any train. An excellent dinner, well and sympathetically served. The mutton was impeccable.
There's an endorsement, said Riker. Perhaps you should have the mutton.
I've never met an Englishman who knew a thing about good food, Bell replied, and asked the waiter, Are we still in shad season?
Yes, sir! How would you like it cooked?
Grilled. And may I reserve some roe for breakfast?
It will be a different diner in the morning, sir. Hitched on at Elkhart. But I'll leave some on ice with the Pullman conductor.
Make that two portions, said Riker. Shad tonight, shad roe in the morning. What do you say, Bell, shall we share a bottle of Rhine wine?
After the waiter left them, Bell said, Your English is remarkable. As if you have spoken it your entire life.
Riker laughed. They beat English into me at Eton. My father sent me to England for preparatory school. He felt it would help me get on in the business if I could mingle with more than just our German countrymen. But tell me something-speaking of fathers-how did you manage to stay out of your family's banking business?
Aware from the Van Dorn reports that Riker's father had been killed during the Boer War, Bell answered obliquely in order to draw him out. My father was, and still is, very much in charge. He looked inquiringly at Riker, and the German said, I envy you. I had no such choice. My father died in Africa when I was just finishing university. If I had not stepped in, the business would have fallen to pieces.
I gathered from the way that jeweler spoke that you've made quite a go of it.
My father taught me every trick in the book. And some more he invented himself. Plus, he was well liked in the factories and work-shops. His name still opens doors, particularly here in America, in Newark and New York. I would not be surprised to bump into one of his old comrades in San Diego. He winked again. In that event, Tiffany's buyers will be lucky to get out of California with the gold fillings still in their teeth.
THE SPY HAD COMPLETELY recovered from the initial shock of seeing Bell jump aboard the 20th Century Limited at Grand Central. Katherine Dee would soon be working her wiles in Newport while he would turn the detective's unexpected presence on the train to advantage. He was accustomed to jousting with government agents-British, French, Russian, Japanese-as well as the various naval intelligence officers, including the Americans, and he had a low opinion of their abilities. But a private detective was a new wrinkle that he had come to realize belatedly deserved careful observation before he made a move.
He was glad he had ordered Detective John Scully killed. That shock would take a toll on Isaac Bell, although the tall detective hid it well, striding about the train like he owned it. Should he kill Bell, too? It seemed necessary. The question was, who would replace him? Bell's friend Abbott was back from Europe. An aggressive adversary, too, from what he could gather, though not quite in Bell's league. Would the formidable Joseph Van Dorn himself step in? Or stay above the fray? His was a nationwide agency with a diverse roster. God knows who they had waiting in the shadows.
On the other hand, he thought with a smile, it was unlikely even God knew everyone he had waiting in the shadows.
Chapter 35
WE'RE STILL CHECKING ON THE CHINESE TRAVELING with Arnold Bennett. But it will take a while. Same for Shafer, the German. Research can't find anything on him, but like you said, Mr. Bell, it seems odd that the embassy booked tickets for a salesman.
The Van Dorn agent was reporting hurriedly in the privacy of Bell's stateroom while the train stopped in Syracuse to take on a fresh engine and drop the dining car.
Sing Sing confirmed Rosania's story.
Rosania had not taken it on the lam but had been released, as he claimed, by the governor. The self-dubbed Australian gold miner was actually a Canadian con man who usually worked the gold mine game on the western railroads, where he could show the mark worthless claims salted by blasting rock walls with shotgun pellets made of gold.
The locomotive whistle signaled Ahead.
Gotta go!
Bell said, I want you to arrange a long-distance telephone connection with Mr. Van Dorn to our next stop at East Buffalo.
Two hours later when they stopped to change engines in a brightly lighted, cacophonous rail yard in East Buffalo, a Van Dorn detective was waiting to take Bell to the yardmaster's office. Bell queried him for the latest while the long-distance telephone operators completed the connections.
Near as we
