O’Brien stepped up from the galley back to the salon where Dave gestured to the TV screen and said, “Take a look at the ripple effect, and how a tsunami can be created from a viral video if the controversy is of global curiosity.”

The channel was on CNN and the graphic to the left of the news anchor’s head spelled: India — Old War Wound Flares Up. The reporter said, “This morning in New Delhi, the Indian government is considering a resolution that would make a formal, diplomatic request for the British Government to have the legendary diamond, known as the Koh-i-Noor, examined by an Indian gemologist for authenticity. This move is coming on the heels of renewed international interest in the whereabouts of the diamond — a precious stone that many in India, including heads of state, believe was stolen by the British government from India in 1850 and wound up as part of the Crown Jewels. In London, Indian Ambassador Samar Patel had this to say.”

The video cut to a thin, dark-skinned man in a gray suit being interviewed in front of the Indian embassy on Aldwych Street. He said, “The Koh-i-Noor has a long history with India. When it was, shall we say… removed from our country in 1850, it was done so unlawfully. The Koh-i-Noor came from Indian soil and it was part of the Indian culture for hundreds of years, all the way back to the eleventh century. The diamond, before it was pilfered, was recognized as a treasure of India, much as the Taj Mahal is today. We implore British Prime Minister, Duncan Hannes to seek permission for an independent gemologist to examine the diamond housed within the Crown Jewels. We hope that the Queen and members of the Royal Family do allow this to transpire.”

The reporter asked, “What happens if the real diamond is there in the Tower of London as assumed? Prime Minster Hannes has gone on record, in his recent visit to India, as saying the return of the Koh-i-Noor to India will not happen. So, if the real diamond is there, it would seem that nothing changes in the last 170 or so years, correct?”

“No. Regardless, India still owns the Koh-i-Noor. However, if it is not genuine, then that is a game-changer. It means the diamond seen on the video and found in a Florida river may be the authentic Koh-i-Noor, and my government will be offering a reward of sixty-million rupee for its return to India.”

The image cut back to the studio. Dave muted the sound as Nick whistled and said, “Somebody tell me what the hell sixty-million rupee is in the good ol’ U — S — of — A dollar column.”

Dave slid his glasses off the top of his head to his nose and reached for a hand-held calculator. He punched a few buttons, eyes growing wider. “It’s roughly ten-million dollars.” He leaned back on the couch, scratched Max behind her ears and said, “Sean, the mysterious woman in the photo, whom we now presume is Confederate Officer Henry Hopkins’ wife Angelina…the hunt for her portrait seems secondary, at best, to the hunt that’s going to happen if it’s confirmed that the diamond pulled from the river is the fabled Koh — i-Noor. Florida will be crawling with international bounty hunters. Gives a whole new meaning to the term ‘solider-of-fortune.’ Some very wealthy people will hire the best mercenaries to find the diamond for private collections. Whoever stole that diamond now is about to become the most hunted person on earth.”

Professor Ike Kirby wasn’t sure what to expect. His old friend, Dave Collins, had briefed him on the purported contract between the Confederate States of America and Great Britain. Ludicrous. That was his first thought. But then there were the odd events leading up to the death of the Civil War re-enactor. The deceased man had ostensibly been a serious student of Civil War history, and he was in the midst of producing a documentary about the war.

Then there was the discovery of the apparent diamond. He’d seen the video. By now, more than half a billion people had viewed it. But was the diamond real? If so, maybe the contract would prove to be as well. He thought about that has he locked his car in the driveway, walked toward the ranch-style home, two barn swallows chasing gnats high above a mimosa tree bursting in lavender blossoms. He stepped onto the front porch of the home and rang the bell.

The door opened and Laura Jordan said, “Hi…are you Doctor Kirby?” She looked up at the lanky man with bags of skin under his glistening eyes, silver hair neatly parted, short beard of salt and pepper whiskers protruding from a friendly but weathered face. He wore a corduroy sports coat over a denim shirt and blue jeans.

“Please, the Ph.D. is only a formality, a required perquisite in my line of work. Just call me Ike. I’m assuming you’re Mrs. Jordan?”

“And you can call me Laura. It was good to speak with you briefly on the phone. You said you’re attending a symposium in Orlando and working as a consultant on the movie, Black River.”

“Yes. I’ve advised the director on a few historical perspectives to provide more accuracy for the film. As far as the symposium is concerned, I don’t take to the dais until tomorrow afternoon. A side expedition to your home is indeed a welcome diversion.”

“Sean O’Brien said you’re close friends with his friend, Dave Collins.”

“Dave and I go way back. May I come in?”

Laura glanced over his shoulder, her eyes scanning the road and perimeter of the neighborhood. She saw a car drive slowly by her home. The car was a black BMW sedan. Dark tinted windows. She’d seen it before…but where?

Professor Kirby cleared his throat. “Are you okay?”

Laura smiled. “Yes, I’m sorry…come in.” She led him into the dining room. “Please, have a seat at the table. Sean said that his friend Dave calls you the most knowledgeable person in the nation when it comes to Civil War history and antiquities. He said you were one of the experts interviewed for that Civil War documentary on the History Channel.”

“It was a fun collaboration.”

“Before his death, my husband was producing a documentary about the eleventh hour of the Confederacy, the dramatic escape of John Breckinridge and the lost Confederate gold.”

“That’s a fascinating story. I’m surprised that great escape never made it to the big screen. I have no doubt it would make quite a movie. I do want to say I’m so very sorry for your loss. Dave told me what happened. He also said you believe your husband was murdered. Do you think it was because you two found the diamond and the contract?”

“Yes. And, I’m sure you’ve heard, the diamond has been stolen. The old contract might not have much value to anyone but museums, history professors like you…and maybe some overzealous Civil War buffs.”

“Mommy, can I go out and play?” Paula stood at the door between the kitchen and dining room. She held a plush animal, a giraffe, in her left hand.

“A little later, sweetie. I’ll go in the back yard with you, okay? Right now we have a guest. I’ll be done soon and then we can go outside.”

Paula smiled and left the room.

Kirby said, “Walking up to your home, I noticed you have a wooden fence around your back yard. It seems very private, and yet I sense hesitancy from you to let your daughter play in the back yard. May I ask why?”

Laura bit her bottom lip for a second. “Since Jack’s death, I’m very cautious of everything Paula does. To put it more succinctly, I’m fearful for her. We’ve received threats.”

“What kind of threats?”

“They’re coming because Jack and I found the Civil War contract. There are some people who believe it represents a departure of Civil War history — the South in particular, and they don’t want to see that happen.”

Kirby nodded. “Perhaps, more than anything, it’s the romanticism of the cause for succession. That contract adds a new dimension.” He smiled. “Where is the document in question?”