Victoria looked annoyed by the dismissal, but after her little speech about Elaine, Nicholas couldn’t care less if she was pissed.

He stared after her. “You know, I really don’t like that woman.” He turned back to Mike, watched her speed-dial a number.

“Ben? Please send three or four agents, a good show of force, to pick up Andrei Anatoly and bring him in for questioning—have them tell him it’s about the murder of Elaine York. FYI, we just got an NGI hit on one of his men, Vladimir Kochen. Name sound familiar? The bastard was here, at the museum, so you know Anatoly is somewhere in the mix. Right. Thanks, Ben.”

She drummed her fingers on the counter. “Ben Houston is from Art Crimes. He knew Inspector York. About the match—the moment Dillon Savich identified Kochen as one of Anatoly’s soldiers, I knew he had to be involved in the theft. We need to move quickly. Truth is, Anatoly wouldn’t cop to anything, even to save his own son. And guess what else? We don’t have a shred of proof tying him to this, only coincidence.”

“Tell me about him.”

Her voice went cold. “Anatoly is not a good man. He has lawyers so slimy you’d think they came right out of the primordial ooze. We can rattle his cage, let him know we know he’s involved. But we can’t hold him, not without something solid.”

Nicholas wasn’t used to waiting for his prey to come to him, but he didn’t see that he had much of a choice. He nodded curtly.

Mike’s phone buzzed with a text message. She glanced at the screen. “It’s the crew. They’re at the loading dock. Let’s go down and get them.”

Victoria knocked on the door, opened it. “Mike, forgive me for intruding, but your team is here.”

“Yep, they texted me. Let’s go get them.”

“No, I’ll go,” Victoria said. “I need to get them through security. You two keep doing what you’re doing. About the match on your system, Mike, I know the man. I saw him having lunch with Elaine last week.”

She started to leave, and Nicholas grabbed her arm.

“Talk.”

She stilled and looked down at his hand, at his fingers encircling her arm.

He released her immediately, inclined his head. “Apologies, Dr. Browning. Please, tell us what you know.”

She looked at her arm, her jaw tightened. “I don’t know anything more. I simply saw Elaine having lunch with him here in the museum café. They seemed chummy. I didn’t get the sense she felt she was in danger, but I hardly paid attention. I’ll be back shortly. If I’m allowed to proceed.”

Mike nodded. “Of course. Thanks for the information.”

When she left, Mike said, “I can’t allow you to punch her out, no matter what she says, all right?”

Nicholas paced Bo’s office. “She has all the answers, doesn’t she?” He ran his fingers through his hair, making it stand on end. “It’s been a long day.”

“Yes, it has. Look, neither one of us has had much sleep, and you’ve lost a friend.”

He was silent, continued to pace. He looked down at the communications center every time he walked past her, as if the answer might magically appear on the bank of screens on the wall in front of them.

“Tell me about the Anatoly crime family.”

Mike glanced at the still-running facial-recognition database and wondered if Kochen had been Elaine’s accomplice, if he’d been the one to plant the device that knocked out all the power. “They’re a pretty typical Russian Mob, loosely organized, not structured like the Italians, and half the time they spend fighting with other parts of the Bratva—the Brotherhood. We’ve gotten them under control in New York, more than three hundred indictments in the past few years, but they’re like rats, they breed in the dark corners. Smuggling, arms dealing, credit card fraud, cyber-crime. They’re opportunistic and lethal—they never hesitate to kill if they’re crossed.

“Anatoly, the big boss—I’ll admit it—he’s scary, smart, and brutal to those who cross him. He has seven sons from two wives who run the various syndicates, all physically bigger than he is, and twice as vicious. Anatoly, at least, has some semblance of culture, a sheen of respectability; on occasions like tonight, he likes to present himself as a wealthy philanthropic businessman. He’s big into the art scene in New York. Likes to get all shined up and come out in public, throw money at things. He’s slick, too. We haven’t gotten anything to stick to him; he lets the others do his dirty work for him.”

“And Kochen?”

“Like I told you, Kochen is one of the foot soldiers, has a rap sheet a mile long. He’s been approached to be an informant a few times, and he’s been cooperative on the surface but hasn’t ever given anything of use. He likes money, and bars and floozies.”

“You said Savich wants to talk to Anatoly about the theft of The Night Tower from the Prado. He’s known for art crimes, yet he supports the Met?”

Mike said, “Yeah, isn’t that a kick? Fact is, though, Anatoly is better known for diamond smuggling. It’s the best way to move large amounts of money around. Diamonds are valuable and portable. Like I said, we haven’t been able to break him. He’s been under almost constant investigation since I joined the New York Field Office.”

“Sounds like Anatoly indeed has the money to finance stealing the Koh-i-Noor. Do you have a dress, by the way?”

“What?”

“A gown. For the gala. It’s black tie. You’re going to stand out in that outfit.”

She glanced down at her jeans and boots. “Oh. Well, yes, I have one at home.”

“You’d best send one of your people for it, then.”

He was right about that; time was growing short. She sent a text message, then looked up at him. “Tell me you don’t have a tux hidden beneath your clothes, like Superman.”

He laughed. “Not this trip. No, my tux is in my bag. I never leave home without it.”

“Just like James Bond, are you?”

“I don’t think Bond ever has to press his tux.”

“Probably not. Look, there’s Victoria, back with my crime scene techs Paulie and Louisa. They look good as caterers, don’t you think? Let’s get this party started, then we can remotely access the interview with Kochen.”

22

Nicholas was impressed with Paulie Jernigan and Louisa Barry. Both were clearly competent, both listened carefully to Dr. Browning’s detailed instructions on how the jewels, the room, and the cases should be processed without ruining them. Or upsetting the curator.

When Victoria finished, Paulie said, “Ma’am, no disrespect, but we’ve already got it figured out. We’re gonna use Lightning Spray Redwop on the cases. It leaves almost zero residue and we can clean it off easy with Rain-X glass cleaner.”

Louisa said, “It will work perfectly on the jewels. There’s a cone we spray into that eliminates excess so nothing else will be touched.”

Victoria had one hand on her hip. “Show me how it works.”

They gave her a quick demonstration. “All right, fine by me. We’ll need to work fast, though; the gala will be starting soon. Perhaps we should start with the cases to the side of the Koh-i-Noor and work our way in.”

She turned to Nicholas. “The thief probably leaned here”—she made a motion toward the vitrine to the right of the center case—“and opened the case from behind, like so.”

She unlocked the case, and he could see exactly what she meant.

Victoria continued. “If there are prints to be found, my bet would be on the inside of the vitrine, and on the pavilion—that’s the angled area of the diamond right before the bottom point.”

Paulie said, “Dr. Browning, we’ll need prints from everyone who had access to this room, too. I have my portable fingerprint scanner with me. We need to exclude the people who’ve been in the room today. Mike, did either you or Detective Chief Inspector Drummond touch any of the cases?”