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Gray Wharton stood up. “Here’s what we know.” He dimmed the lights with a remote. A slide came up on the screen, and Dr. Victoria Browning stared out at them, studious, elegant, understated, and wearing a complacent Mona Lisa smile Mike wanted to slap right off her pretty face.
“This is not Victoria Browning. We don’t believe there ever was a Victoria Browning. We believe we have fact and fiction expertly mixed to create this identity. It’s very possible this woman is indeed a British citizen, thirty-eight years old, who grew up in Scotland and attended school there. According to her passport records, she entered the United States in April of last year on a work visa.
“We believe she created this identity specifically for this job. In other words, she’s legit up to a point. The best lies are based in truth, and according to everyone who worked with her at the Met, she was an expert on the crown jewels, and had contacts in the archaeology world that couldn’t be faked, which means she might have indeed gained her doctorate from the University of Edinburgh. We will verify once we upload the university’s records.
“However, to our everlasting despair, they’re having a snowstorm over in Scotland, and there’s no one at the school to transmit the records. It will be a day at a minimum before we can access that information.”
Ben said, “Sometimes I hate that we have to play by the rules and can’t hack into the university records.”
Nicholas smiled, threaded his pen through his fingers.
Sherlock said, “When did Browning cross paths with Elaine York?”
Ben said, “Last year. Elaine worked with Victoria long-distance on the exhibit until she moved to New York four months ago.”
“Were they friendly?”
Ben nodded. “They worked closely together and seemed to be friends. I know they occasionally went out after work for drinks and dinner.”
Sherlock said, “Is there anything new on Inspector York’s murder?”
Mike said, “A tenant thought he heard a struggle around lunchtime this past Monday. We have Vladimir Kochen entering the apartment building at eleven forty-five a.m. with Elaine. She comes stumbling out half an hour later, disoriented and bleeding.
We have a security video from a bodega across the street. We’re comparing all the people entering and exiting her building, and running them against her facial-recognition profile. It’s entirely possible Browning was disguised and we missed her.”
“Or it’s someone we haven’t considered yet,” Zachery said.
Nicholas said, “What you told Mike and me last night at the hospital, Paulie, about one of the words you heard Victoria say—ark—it’s bothering me. What if it wasn’t ark she said, but something rhyming, like park, for instance. Meet me at noon at the park, which makes more sense than Meet me at noon at the ark.”
Paulie said, “Could be, Nicholas. I was pretty out of it.”
Mike said, “Dillon, you don’t think it’s possible to reconstruct the audio during Browning’s attack on Paulie and Louisa?”
“I just thought of something else to try. I’m going to see if I can work some magic,” and Savich rose and left the conference room.
Zachery nodded to Gray, and he flipped to a new slide. “These are the canisters and explosive material retrieved from the Met and analyzed last night. The C-4 chemical signature matches a bombing in Tripoli last May. The canisters are standard-grade tear gas, and there was a smaller canister of a chemical we haven’t identified yet; it’s what made everyone feel sick. The attack was definitely meant to disable but not kill.”
Zachery said, “Any trace on how the C-4 got into the country?”
“No, sir. It’s possible it was made here and shipped over there, too.”
Zachery rolled his eyes. “Like we need that hitting the news.” He asked Ben, “Do any of your Russian Mob friends use explosives?”
Ben shook his head. “Not like this. I suggest we farm the test results out to counterterrorism, let them have a go.”
“Done. I don’t want to be in wait-and-see mode, people. What can we do right now to move this case forward?”
Mike said, “Andrei Anatoly, sir. Though he says Kochen wasn’t a part of his team anymore, it was one of his soldiers murdered in Elaine’s apartment. Maybe Anatoly planned to steal the Koh-i-Noor but simply wasn’t the first in line. We need to talk to him again.”
“Ben, you’re on that. Mike, you’re to stay focused on Browning.”
“But Browning and Anatoly could have ties we haven’t found yet,” Mike said. “Ties that could involve Inspector York.”
“Sure they could,” Zachery said, “but let Ben keep on him. You and Drummond figure out what Browning’s real name is and where she was living. She’ll have a trail. Go find it.”
Mike nodded.
“Gray, continue your sweep of private airports. She’s somewhere. Let’s see if she left the U.S. Okay, people, we have a priceless diamond to track down and the media hard on our heels. We need answers, and quickly.”
