Henri had been in and out all afternoon. His lawyer and assistant were in his office in another wing of the house, working through transfer paperwork, provenance chains, authentication documentation, and insurance riders.
This was really going to happen. I was going to finish my grandmother’s task from WWII. A lump formed in my throat, full of almost thirty years of memories of her, her wisdom, and everything I’d lost when she died.
Caulfield pulled his visor lenses down and turned the yolk under the magnifying lamp, comparing it against a printed photograph propped against his satchel. It showed a white egg with a hen inside, different from mine, but similar in structure.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“The Hen Egg. It was the very first Imperial Egg Fabergé made for Tsar Alexander III, delivered in 1885. It’s on display at the Fabergé Museum in Saint Petersburg, so extensive documentation is available. The genuine Hen with the Sapphire Pendant egg was presented the following year, and yours is similar enough I’m running construction checks against the known example.” He pointed to a detail inside the yolk in front of us. “If you notice this hinge work, it’s nearly identical to the first egg.”
He went back to his notes. Checked the angle again. Made another note. He’d said he was almost done thirty minutes ago, but what did I know? Maybealmost donemeant another hour of cross-referencing.
Caulfield set down the yolk and pressed his fingertips to his eyes beneath the visor. “Should we break for a bit? I need something to drink.”
“I’ll take care of it.” Garrett pushed off the wall, spoke quietly to Aleš, and headed toward us. “Grace, do you want anything?”
“Just coffee.”
He frowned at me, as though I’d picked the wrong answer. “In this heat?”
“Actually…” I hesitated. “Would iced coffee be too much trouble?”
“That’s more what I thought.” He winked at me. He was still frowning, still Mr. Grumpy, but that wink was just for me. “Dr. Caulfield?”
“Sparkling water with some lemon slices in it, please.”
Garrett nodded and crossed to the interior door at the far end of the dining room. He rapped once on the frame, and Henri’s housekeeper appeared a beat later. She was a short woman with steel-gray hair pinned up off her neck.
As they spoke, Dr. Caulfield pulled his phone from his pocket, swiped and tapped for a few seconds, then set it face-down on the table. “You should take a walk, stretch your legs. You’ve been sitting here all afternoon.”
“I’m fine. I’m enjoying the process.”
He smiled and went back to the hen. After a minute, his hands slowed. He glanced up at Garrett, who was waiting at the interior door. “Actually, I’d rather have lime than lemon, if they have any? Would you mind going after her?”
Before Garrett could reply, though, Dr. Caulfield’s phone buzzed against the table. He picked it up, glanced at the screen, and set it down again. He swiveled his head to glance at the garden doors.
The doors were all the way directly behind him. What was he doing?
Something…
Something wasn’t… right.
It was the same feeling I’d had in Arthur’s suite, listening to Morganna tell us about all the players in this dangerous game I’d fallen into. I’d talked myself out of thinking Dr. Caulfield was a risk because it was just front-running. Everyone had agreed. Garrett had agreed. Arthur had agreed. I’d agreed.
Except a slimy man didn’t stop being slimy because we’d decided his sliminess was irrelevant to our sale.
And front-running wasn’t only about selling. It was about power and greed as much as it was about selling information.
The question was: How power-hungry and greedy was Brandon Caulfield?
I lowered my voice. “Dr. Caulfield, how much do you think the egg is worth? On the open market?”
He looked up. “Difficult to say precisely until?—”
“I know Henri asked you to come here for the authentication, and he’s paying you for your services, but…”Please don’t be thebad guy. Please don’t be the bad guy.“I was approached by someone else who’s offering more than Henri will pay, and I’m considering it.”
Caulfield went still.
“His name is Werner Kessler.”
