A notification pinged on Merlin’s laptop. He tapped a few buttons and said, “Thanks for getting back to me so quickly, Jean. You’re on with Arthur, Galahad, and a client of ours.”
Ours? Since I didn’t work for Arthur, Grace was hardlyourclient. And since Merlin didn’t officially work with them either, she was exclusively Arthur’s client.
“When a man calls with a mysterious treasure, I answer,” came the old archaeologist’s pronounced French accent. “What do you have for me this time?”
Merlin held the egg’s parts up for the camera. “What do you make of this?”
“Mon Dieu,” breathed Jean. “Let me take a screenshot. That’s not what I think it is, is it?”
“And what do you think it is?” Arthur swiveled Merlin’s laptop so he and I could see the screen.
“Arthur! Galahad!” Jean’s whole face lit up. He was grayer than I remembered, and he’d let his beard fill out. “It’s been too long, my friends!”
Merlin joined us, crouching between our seats so he was on the video feed. “We have a client who suspects it’s a Fabergé egg. We’d appreciate your thoughts.”
“Fabergé’s first Imperial Eggs often contained a hen, and the hens typically opened to reveal another surprise,” Jean explained, his words quickening with excitement. “The original inspiration came from Danish surprise eggs.” Jean lifted his glasses as his face neared his screen. He must have been inspecting the screenshot he’d taken. “Is it possible?”
“That’s what we’re trying to determine,” Arthur said. “Galahad’s escorting our client to an authenticator in London tomorrow.”
“There are no known photographs of it,” Jean continued, “but this matches descriptions of the missing Hen with Sapphire Pendant egg. The only detail in the records is of the hen, with diamonds and sapphires. Still, some assume it took on a shape similar to the first one, like a nesting doll, before Fabergé began experimenting with more elaborate designs. The last official record placed it in the Kremlin. Rumors suggested the Dowager Empress Maria Feodorovna smuggled it out before the Russian Revolution, but there’s never been proof.”
“If it’s a real Imperial Egg,” Arthur said, his voice low. “People would kill for it.”
Grace stiffened, resting her hands on the table between her and me. She whispered, “Kill?”
I shifted in my seat and touched her hand, offering what reassurance I had. She didn’t accept the grip this time, instead pulling away and folding her arms. Offering a gesture of comfort to a principal I was protecting was common enough. But something about Grace made it different. Maybe because shewas so damn determined to see the bright side of everything, and she kept failing at that today.
“Not just… you mean…” she choked out. “It’s a thing. The egg is just athing.”
“Don’t worry.” Arthur’s features softened in the way they always did when he had to deliver bad news. His ability to switch that on was another reason he was such a solid leader. Because it wasn’t really a switch, the empathy he shared was real. “Galahad won’t let anything happen to you.”
“I was thinking about selling it,” Grace admitted, wrinkling her nose. “If I’m in danger for having it, that’s smart, right?”
“If it’s authentic,” I said.
“I’m meeting with Dr. Brandon Caulfield,” she said to me, as Merlin shifted the screen so Jean could see her. “Should I change my plans? Take it to Jean?”
Jean shook his head. “Dr. Caulfield is a more appropriate expert than I am for this. My specialty was ancient artifacts, not Imperial Russian treasures. If anyone can verify it, it’s him.”
“You’ve dealt with him before?” I asked Jean.
“Once, years ago. I know him more by reputation than personally. If it’s genuine, he’d be able to authenticate it properly and guide you toward the best sales channels.”
“We appreciate the information, Jean,” Arthur said. “We’ll keep you updated on what Dr. Caulfield says.”
“Can you imagine if this is truly the Hen with the Sapphire Pendant? What a find.” Jean pushed his glasses up to his forehead. “But be careful. As you know, valuable artifacts have a way of attracting dangerous attention.”
That we did. All too well.
After we ended the call, Arthur returned to security concerns. Eyeing Grace’s handbag, he said, “You need something better than a purse to transport this.”
I nodded. “I’ve got a secure travel pack with compartments designed for fragile items that I picked up for a previous job. I’ll carry it.”
“Why you?” Grace asked.
“Because I’m not an appealing target,” I said simply. “Most thieves would think twice before trying to take anything from me.”
Grace’s arms tucked tighter against her chest, and she moistened her lips. What was that? Nerves?
