Nicholas hadn’t seen the woman yet. Mike watched him stand to one side to allow Sherlock and Savich access to the elevator first. As he stepped into the elevator, the woman called his name in a cultured British accent, not unlike Nicholas’s own.

“Nicky? Nicky Drummond? Is that you?”

Nicholas had only a moment to think You must be joking before she was on him. She threw her arms around him, then stood back, both hands on his arms.

“Nicky, it is you. I had no idea you were in New York.” She looked him up and down. “You look edible, darling. I always liked you in that tux.”

He said, voice expressionless, “Pamela. It’s been a while. These are my friends.” But he realized she wasn’t looking at him now, she was staring dead on at Savich. “I am Lady Pamela Caruthers, the founder of Beauty in Nature, a very upscale online magazine. I’m doing a spread on the Jewel of the Lion exhibit; I’m simply mad for the Koh-i-Noor, aren’t you? And you are?”

Savich smiled at the beautiful hard-edged woman standing in front of him. He introduced himself and Sherlock and shook her lovely white hand, her index finger sporting a ruby the size of his knuckle.

Nicholas said, “And Pamela, this is Special Agent Mike Caine.”

Pamela gave Mike a cursory look, then moved on. “This is fascinating. All of you are FBI. Why are all of you here, in a law enforcement herd? What’s going on?”

“It’s a perk,” Mike said easily. “Nothing more than a very nice perk. Who are you exactly?”

Pamela laughed and tossed her head back so the rubies around her white throat glimmered. Mike caught the sparkle of diamonds in her hair. “A perk? Come now, dear, that lie will make your nose grow. You ask who I am? Darling, I’m Nicholas’s wife, more’s the pity.”

Nicholas’s wife? Mike heard the snark clearly. What was this about?

Nicholas said, “Ex-wife, actually. As I recall, Pamela, there was never any pity involved.”

Sherlock saw the glitter of anger in Lady Pamela’s eyes and threw herself into the breach. “I’ve read several of your articles, Pamela. The holistic approach to beauty and fashion is a big hit right now.”

Pamela stared a moment at Sherlock’s hair. “An FBI agent who is into the holistic approach? Isn’t that a lovely surprise. One simply never knows who one’s audience includes, does one?”

“No, I suppose one doesn’t,” Savich said.

“Did you know about my magazine, Nicky? Perhaps you’ve checked it out after pounding the pavement all day? Maybe talking about me to your mates over a Guinness at the pub?”

Nicholas said, “I really don’t do much pounding, Pamela. And my mates aren’t the holistic type.”

“Such a humiliation for your family, Nicholas, you now a common copper. Now, the Foreign Office—” She gave a sparkling look to Sherlock and Mike. “That’s when I met him, in Istanbul, right outside the Blue Mosque. Imagine, a spy for a husband, it was all so exciting at first—” She gave an elegant shrug.

“But you were so busy, Nicky. Then after Afghanistan, well, your moods, darling, they became such a trial.” She shrugged, her smile brilliant now. “Do you know my magazine has tripled its subscribers since we launched two years ago? The Jewel of the Lion special edition goes online tomorrow, and I expect it to be our biggest hit yet.”

No one had anything to say about that.

She turned back to Nicholas. “I hope your family does well.”

“They do very well, thank you.”

She patted his cheek. “Life moves on, Nicky. One of these days you must learn to move along with it. I read about Inspector York’s murder. It’s all over the news, on the Internet. Everybody wonders what’s going on. You’re here to find out what happened, aren’t you?”

Nicholas said nothing.

Pamela said, “Oh, yes, my father told me he saw your father at the club last week and—he’s the Earl of Clarens, you know, and—”

Zachery’s voice came through loud and clear on Mike’s comms unit. “Bo wants Nicholas, Savich, and Sherlock upstairs. Mike, you stay put, keep an eye on things.”

Did her boss think one of the guests would pull the Koh-i-Noor out of his pocket and wave it like a red flag?

Nicholas looked relieved for the excuse to leave. He nodded to his ex-wife and stepped into the elevator with Savich and Sherlock, pressed the button to five. Mike’s last view of him was his stoic face as the doors closed.

“He could always run fast, when he wanted to,” Pamela said. She gave Mike an indifferent nod and sashayed off, her five-inch Louboutin stilettos clicking on the marble floors. Even when she moved into a crowd, Mike could still see her, she was so very tall and thin and exquisite.

Was he Sir Nicholas? No, he couldn’t be, Sir Nicholas was the nearly headless ghost in Harry Potter. Lady Pamela—his ex-wife. Life was like an onion, her mother had always said, you never know what you’d have when another layer peeled away.

What had happened in Afghanistan?

The lights flickered, once, twice. The crowd didn’t seem to notice.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Mike said aloud. “Now is not the time for the lights to go out.”

Zachery’s voice came over loud and clear on her comms unit. “Probably the snow, but our people up here are checking into it. What more could it be than a simple power surge?”

“I hope you’re right. Can you imagine, eight hundred people wandering around and the lights go out? Pandemonium.”

Her cell rang; she saw Nicholas’s name on the caller ID. “Hang on, sir, it’s Nicholas.” She clicked off her comms unit and answered her cell.

“Mike, did you see the lights flicker? Zachery thinks everything is okay, but I know it’s not. Something’s not right. Get up here now.”

26

When the elevator doors finally opened, Mike looked out on chaos. People were stumbling around like the walking dead, coughing, eyes tearing, crying out. The hall was getting increasingly foggy and her own eyes began to burn.

Gas.

Nicholas ran out of the communication center with Sherlock tossed over his shoulder. She wasn’t moving. Mike rushed to her side, felt her pulse. It was, fortunately, strong and steady. Whatever was in the gas wasn’t deadly.

Nicholas coughed deeply, then turned back to the comm center. Mike shouted after him, “What’s happening?”

Nicholas called, “I don’t know yet. Tell Zachery everyone in the comm center is down.”

She fought panic, hit her comms unit. “Sir, we have an active attack on the communications center. Everyone’s down. Repeat, officers down. It feels like tear gas.”

An instant of silence, then, “Copy that, Mike.”

She took off after Nicholas, who was dragging more people from the room.

A deafening wail began. The fire alarm.

Nicholas swung the communication center doors wide, sending in fresh air to dissipate the gas. Soon people began staggering out under their own power.

Savich came out with Bo leaning on his shoulder, both of them gagging and choking, their eyes red, tears streaming down their faces.

Mike wiped her eyes and went back to Sherlock, who groaned and tried to sit up.

“Hey, sit still. You’ll be okay. What happened?”

Sherlock’s eyes were watering heavily. “Some sort of percussion grenade, with gas. Nick was out checking the power grid when it hit, so he escaped. Knocked us all out.”

Nicholas cupped her face in his hand. “Did you see who did this?”

“No, I didn’t. Where’s Dillon? Oh, there you are. You’re all right? Did you see anything before the gas blinded you? I had my back to the door, looking at the security feed from the exhibit room.”

“I didn’t see anything.” Savich slumped down against the wall next to her and touched his head to hers. “Are you all right? You’re all blurry.”