Mike said, “No one’s been acting strangely over the past few days?”

Dr. Browning shook her head again, making the earrings dance. “Nothing has happened to point suspicion. We were refused all vacation requests for the first three weeks of the exhibit, so it’s all hands on deck.” She frowned slightly. “Except Elaine. She’d never taken a sick day before, and, of course, the day of the power outage, poof, off she goes. Anyway, there’s a new shift coming in at four o’clock this afternoon to staff the ball; we’ll have to make sure everyone’s accounted for.”

Nicholas said, “The diamond isn’t exactly a large item to steal. It could have been slipped into someone’s pocket, and walked right out the door.”

“Yes, that’s true. At one hundred five carats, it’s a massive diamond, but small enough to fit in your hand. We have the files for everyone who’s been in the museum since the exhibit arrived and we’re going through the video feeds to see who was where and when. Assuming the diamond was switched during the five minutes of missing video feed, we’re checking the cameras to see if anyone was out of place, leading up to that time, and afterward.”

Mike said, “If the diamond is still on-site, it could be anywhere.”

“Yes. All the staffers who started their shifts this morning have been asked to stay on until dismissed by Mr. Horsley. They’ve complied, but everyone knows something’s up. Something major. We won’t be able to keep this quiet much longer. Our rumor mill is as big as our staff.”

The elevator stopped on the fifth floor. Dr. Browning led them down a corridor, their heels echoing in the cavernous silence, through a few turns, then to a gray steel door guarded by two men wearing the black fatigues of Bo’s security firm. She said, “VIP tour, guys. We’ll be about ten minutes or so.” They stood aside without a word, and Nicholas noticed they both carried Glock .40s. Bo wasn’t kidding—the security staff was loaded for bear.

Dr. Browning put her palm in the reader and waited for the beep. She said to Mike, “Another layer of security, the biometric reader.” She swiped her pass in the reader and entered a code. The door hissed when it broke free of its seal. She said, “This is a low-oxygen environment; it helps keep things nice and fresh. Here we are.”

The room was dark, but at its center were three long vitrine cases softly lit from within and full of incredible artifacts—gold and jewel-handled daggers and swords, brilliant earrings and glittering tiaras, and scores of intricately carved gold boxes, all from the Tower of London.

In the elevated middle vitrine, clearly the star of the show, sat the queen mother’s beautiful crown on its bed of purple velvet. Nicholas had seen it several times, and it always took his breath away. The history of the jewels aside, they were bloody gorgeous.

And the Koh-i-Noor. Enhanced by the special display lighting, the brilliant diamond shined bright as the stars from its home in the stunning crown. It was insanely large, oval, and the size of an egg. And it was a fake. No one would be able to tell the difference tonight at the gala, no one.

There was a note of awe in Mike’s voice. “This is quite impressive, Dr. Browning, but—”

She interrupted smoothly, with a smile. “Do call me Victoria, please. I know. This stone doesn’t look fake at all, does it? It’s really rather magnificent. That is because it’s a perfect replica of the original Koh-i-Noor, which, trust me, is even more spectacular, at least to a trained eye. This replica fits the setting like it was made for it, which technically it was.”

Nicholas leaned in for a closer look. “I would never know the difference. Tell us again why you tested it?”

Victoria said, “I received a call from Peter Grisley, who was hired several years ago to digitally map the Koh-i-Noor. There are some great stories about it online, published in a number of places. I’ll get one of my guys to pull it all together for you. Someone broke into his workshop and stole his replicas, but he doesn’t know when it happened, because he’s a snowbird and has been in Arizona since November. He came home for a weekend before flying here to see the exhibit and realized that his replicas were missing, so he called us immediately, knowing something must be up.” She paused, staring at the display and said, “Boy, was he ever right.”

18

The air lock hissed, and Bo Horsley came into the exhibit room with a big smile and his arms out.

“Nicholas Drummond. I’m so glad you’re here.”

Uncle Bo looked so much like Nicholas’s mother it was unnerving at times. They hugged, slapping each other on the back. Nicholas said, “It’s good to see you, Uncle Bo.”

“I’m sorry it had to be this way, Nick, but I’m very glad you came. Mike, thanks for picking Nick up at JFK. You don’t look bad for a woman who was up all night.”

She shook Bo’s hand. “I only need an hour or two of sleep to stay upright with all this adrenaline pumping through my veins. I knew retirement wouldn’t suit you. You’ve been gone only six weeks, yet here you are, back on the treadmill.”

“And what a treadmill—listen, Mike, I don’t know anyone from Federal Plaza other than you that I’d rather have hunting for the blasted diamond, and finding out why Inspector York was killed. Thanks for being so discreet.” He paused, blasted a big smile at Nicholas. “And now you’ve got my boy here to help you. First off, let me assure you the director of the Met is on board with our plan—no choice, really, since he wants to save his job, his reputation, not to mention all the money the Met would have to pony up. Nick, did you get Mike up to date on what we think happened?”

Nicholas nodded.

“Good. I have something for you.”

Bo dropped a small white box into Mike’s hand. She looked at it closely, turned it over a few times.

“Is that what I think it is?” Nicholas asked.

Mike smiled. “If you’re thinking it’s a relay capacitor for an EMP, yes.” She turned to Bo. “Where did you get this?”

“Turned up in a sweep of the basement. This is how the thief turned off the power yesterday.”

Mike cocked her head to one side, looked back at the fake Koh-i-Noor, tossed the relay into the air and caught it, then murmured, “Five floors away.” She looked up. “I realize the most likely scenario is that the thief stole the Koh-i-Noor during the five-minute power outage, which means he or she had an inside helper, someone who could have attached this very effective device to the museum’s electrical grid to shut everything down while the thief was switching out the diamonds. I’m thinking we have to look at everyone again, not only the people with direct contact with the diamond.”

Bo grinned like a bandit at her. “Smart as a whip,” he said to Nicholas. “You’re exactly right, Mike. We’re not talking about a dozen or so staff, we’re talking the whole ocean of Met employees. We’ve pulled the files for every employee within spitting distance of the exhibit, but it isn’t a small group, believe me, and then there are the delivery people and students and the public who are in day and night. Cross-referencing our security video from the museum with the FBI’s new NGI program—next-generation identification facial-recognition technology—will at least get us in the ballpark if there’s anyone with a record who’s been in and out of the museum around the time of the power outage.

“And another little spanner in the works: we realized the five-minute power outage also wiped the tapes of at least a minute before everything went black, so checking the basement stairs probably won’t show us our inside guy. But we’ll see. Can you handle integrating the NGI system with our video feeds, Nick?”