with you?’
‘Well, she’s not,’ Tom shot back.
‘When did you last see her?’
‘Upstairs. She was helping me pack up my kit. I handed her the…’
He paused, a sudden thought occurring to him. Flinging the door open, he raced round to the back of the car and popped the boot.
‘What are you looking for?’ Archie asked as he rooted through his bag.
‘This,’ Tom said, holding up the receiver for the location beacon.
He turned it on. A faint pulse of light confirmed what he had already guessed. The transmitter was about fifty yards directly in front of him.
‘She’s still inside.’
‘What the hell’s she doing?’ Archie’s voice was caught somewhere surprise and admiration.
‘Playing the only card we have left.’
SEVENTY-FIVE
Free Port, Geneva
20th March-3.50 p.m.
‘Who the hell are you?’ Faulks paused on the threshold, wary of another trick.
‘Everything’s here,’ she reassured him. ‘I just wanted to make sure I got your attention.’
‘Congratulations. You’ve got it,’ he snarled, motioning at Logan to grab her, while he checked the cupboards and stuck his head into the next room.
Unbelievably, everything did indeed seem to be there, the empty desolation of a few minutes ago quickly replaced by a warm wave of relief. And a cold current of anger.
‘Who are you?’ he repeated.
‘Lieutenant Allegra Damico. An officer with the TPA.’
A pause, Faulks giving a thin smile at her laboured breathing as Logan tightened his grip on her arm which he had bent behind her back.
‘What do you want?’
‘I have some information for the Delian League.’
‘Who?’
‘I think we’re a little beyond that,’ she said, nodding in the direction of the documentation in the small room.
‘Earl, are you in here?’
Faulks’s head snapped round at the sound of Verity’s approaching voice.
‘Damn,’ he swore, then turned back to Allegra with an impatient shrug. He didn’t have time for this. Not today of all days. Not now. But after the lengths she’d gone to…there was no telling what she knew or who she’d told. He had to be sure. The League had to be sure. ‘You’re right. We’re way beyond that.’
Stepping forward, he grabbed the end of his umbrella and swung its handle hard against her temple. Groaning, she went limp in Logan’s arms.
‘Take her to the back and keep her quiet,’ he hissed. ‘When we’re finished here, load her up with the rest of the shipment.’
Turning on his heel, he walked back out on to the corridor. Verity was marching towards him, her face drawn into a thunderous scowl, hands clenched like an eagle swooping to snatch a rabbit out of long grass.
‘Earl, I don’t know what you’re playing at, but…’
‘Verity, I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am,’ he apologised, arms outstretched, palms upturned, his brain working hard. ‘There’s been a terrible mistake. Terrible. And it’s entirely my fault.’
‘The only mistake was me agreeing to come here,’ she retorted angrily. ‘Abused, accused, abandoned…’
‘We were on the wrong floor!’ He laughed lustily, hoping that it didn’t sound too forced. ‘Can you believe it? It’s old age. It must be. I’m losing it.’
‘The wrong floor?’ she repeated unsmilingly.
‘The landlord needed access to my old offices to begin the demolition planning, so they’ve moved me up here,’ he explained, with what he hoped was a convincingly earnest wide-eyed look. ‘I’m so used to going to the second floor after all these years, that I didn’t even think about it. I’m so sorry.’
‘So everything’s here?’ She glanced past him with a sceptical frown.
‘Absolutely.’ He gave an emphatic nod. ‘Thank God, because for a terrible moment I thought…’
‘I know. Me too.’ She let out a nervous, hesitant laugh. He forced himself to join in.
‘Can you ever forgive me?’
‘That depends on what’s inside.’ She flashed him a smile.
Ushering her in, he led her through to the middle room, Verity murmuring with appreciation at some of the items she could see stacked there.
‘Good God, Earl, this is wonderful.’
‘Even better, it’s all for sale,’ he reminded her with a smile as he crouched next to the safe, flicked the dial and heaved it open.
‘Is that it?’ Verity breathed over his shoulder, pulling on a pair of white cotton gloves.
‘That’s it.’ Sliding the shallow box out, he carefully placed it on top of one of the neighbouring packing crates. Removing his jacket, he lay it over another crate so that its scarlet lining covered it. Then he gingerly removed the mask and set it on top of the lining, the pale ivory leaping off the red material. Finally he stepped back and ushered her forward.
‘Please.’
Approaching slowly as if she was afraid of waking it, Verity pulled on a pair of white cotton gloves and carefully picked the mask up. She raised it level with her face, eyes unblinking, the colour flushing her throat and cheeks, her breathing quickening, hands trembling. For a moment, it seemed she might kiss it. But instead, she gave a long sigh of pleasure and lowered it unsteadily back into its straw bed, her shoulders shaking.
‘So? What do you think?’ Faulks asked, after giving her a few moments to compose herself.
Verity made to speak, but no sound came out, her lips trembling, tears welling in her eyes. She looked up at him, her hand waving in front of her mouth as if she was trying to summon the words out of herself.
‘It’s so beautiful,’ she breathed eventually. ‘It’s like…it’s like gazing into the eyes of God.’
‘Attribution?’
‘Assuming the dating is right…’
‘Oh, it’s right.’
‘Then Phidias. Phidias, Phidias, Phidias!’ Her voice built to an ecstatic crescendo. ‘We would have heard of any other sculptor from that period of this quality.’
‘Then I hope you won’t mind confirming that to my buyer?’ Faulks pulled out his phone and searched for a number. ‘Or the valuation you’ll put on it once he donates it to you?’
‘Of course,’ she enthused, snatching the phone from him as soon as it started ringing. ‘What’s his name?’
SEVENTY-SIX
Over Milan, Italy
20th March-6.27 p.m.
Darkness. The smell of straw. A dog barking.
Coming round, Allegra lifted her head and then sank back with a pained cry. There was something above her preventing her from sitting up. Something smooth and flat and…wooden. She moved her hands gingerly across it, sensing first its corners and then the constrictive press of the walls at her side. It was a box. She was lying in a
