Liar's Key. Carla Neggers

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СКАЧАТЬ a fascinating era.”

      “I guess so. The party was relatively small, maybe forty people.”

      “How did you know about it?”

      “I still have contacts in London,” he said. “Getting the invitation to the Sharpe open house stirred me up, I guess. I’d hoped to go out on a high note and I went out on a dead end. That’s the way I looked at it. Anyway, I’m at this London tea party, and no sooner did I help myself to fancy tea than lo and behold, who do I see? Want to guess, Emma?”

      “You go ahead, Gordy.”

      He grinned at her. “I hope that’s my training you’re putting to use. I ran into an MI5 agent I know, a guy as knowledgeable as anyone in law enforcement and intelligence on the illegal antiquities trade and its connections to terrorism and terrorist funding.”

      Emma sat straight. Gordy had her interest now. “Did you speak with this agent?” she asked.

      “Sort of. He marched over to me and told me to drink my tea and then pack my bags and head home. I told him I only had one bag. He laughed.”

      “Most people appreciate your sense of humor.”

      “Yeah, right. More like he humored the old fart who doesn’t know enough to stay home and play golf. He wouldn’t tell me why he was sniffing around at a fancy London party—denied that’s what he was doing.” Gordy settled back on his heels and narrowed his gaze on Emma. “I thought you might know what his interest was.”

      “Why would I know?”

      “Because your pal Oliver York was there, too.”

      And there it is. Emma remained very still. “Keep going.”

      “English mythologist. A wealthy loner with a tragic past. He witnessed his parents’ murder at their London apartment when he was eight years old. The killers kidnapped him, but he escaped. They’re still at large thirty years later.” Gordy’s voice wasn’t without compassion. “Awful business.”

      “Yes.”

      “How long have you known York?” Gordy asked.

      “Not long. Gordy—”

      He held up a hand. “It’s okay. I don’t know anything that wasn’t in the papers. He got mixed up in an investigation into a private security firm this winter. You almost got killed. You already knew him by then, though, didn’t you?”

      “Sort of. Keep talking.”

      Gordy paused, studying her.

      “Is Oliver York working with MI5, Emma?”

      “Why do you ask?”

      “Instinct. The MI5 guy is a real bastard. If he’s got York by the short hairs for some reason...well, it’s no wonder York is doing MI5’s bidding. But what could British intelligence have on a lonely mythologist?”

      Tons, Emma thought, but she didn’t respond to Gordy’s question. Given his experience as a federal agent, he would know she couldn’t. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to. For a decade, he had chased a serial thief who’d broken into museums, businesses and private homes in a dozen different cities in Europe and the US, making off with a fortune in artwork. Wendell Sharpe, Emma’s grandfather, had also hunted for the thief, who had especially enjoyed taunting the world-renowned art detective. Last fall, while on an unrelated case, Emma had helped identify the thief as eccentric English mythologist Oliver York. Oliver had never admitted his guilt, and he would never face arrest and prosecution for any of his brazen heists—in part because of lack of evidence, but mainly because he’d agreed to help the United Kingdom’s Security Service, popularly known as MI5.

      “I guess I wouldn’t answer that question, either,” Gordy said. “Oliver York’s London apartment—the same one where he witnessed his parents’ murder—is a short distance from Claridge’s. He also owns a farm in the Cotswolds. Again, though, I’m telling you something you already know, since he’s your pal.”

      “Oliver isn’t my pal.”

      “Is he one of your grandfather’s eccentric pals?”

      “You’d have to ask him. Did you speak with Oliver at the party on Sunday?”

      “No, I didn’t. He saw me and took off in the opposite direction. Coincidence, maybe.”

      Emma doubted it. “What else, Gordy? I can’t get worked up about MI5 and an English mythologist showing up at a high-end London party.”

      “Your parents were there.”

      Now this was news, Emma thought, containing any reaction. She could see he was gauging her response as the experienced agent he was. As a member of HIT, short for High-Impact Target, she worked on investigations focusing on elusive criminals with virtually unlimited resources. But she had only a little over four years on the job. Gordy, retired just a year, had decades.

      “I haven’t talked with them in a few days,” she said.

      “We said a quick hello while the MI5 agent was looking daggers at me. They’re living in London now, I understand. It’s temporary?”

      “A year. That’s what they say, at least. The idea was that a dramatic change of scenery would help my father with his chronic pain.”

      Gordy winced. “Terrible. A simple fall on the ice and his life is changed forever. Your brother had to pick up the reins of the family business sooner than he expected. I hear old Wendell is retiring, but I’ll believe it when I see it.”

      Emma got to her feet. “Gordy, if you’re here because you want me to give you information, you’re wasting your time. I appreciate any information you want to give me, but it’s a one-way street.”

      “Yeah. I get it.” He picked up an index card that had fallen onto the floor and set it back on the sofa. “You heard Alessandro Pearson died about two weeks ago? Funeral was a week ago Tuesday. He had a heart attack and fell down the stairs near his apartment. Heart attack is what killed him, though. He was eighty-eight. He had a good run.”

      Emma nodded. “Yes, I heard.”

      “Old Wendell was at the funeral. I didn’t realize they were friends.”

      “He consulted with Alessandro a few times.”

      “Archaeologist specializing in ancient mosaics. I thought your grandfather steered clear of antiquities.”

      “He does these days. Look, it seems you should be talking to him instead of me.”

      “Relax. I’m just curious. I’m at a party celebrating an antiquities show with MI5, this Oliver York character, your parents and a few other people, and everyone’s buzzing about Alessandro Pearson’s death.”

      “He was a respected expert in antiquities.”

      “Know anything about ancient mosaics stolen recently in London, Emma?”

      It was a calculated blurt. Despite his disheveled СКАЧАТЬ