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“Are you prepared to wager fifty thousand dollars?”
“Not me.” Gabriel pointed at Sarah. “But she will.”
“I require twenty-five thousand to begin an investigation. The rest is due upon delivery of my findings.”
“How long will it take?” asked Sarah.
“Anywhere from a few weeks to a few months.”
“Time is of the essence, Dr. Gallagher.”
“When are you planning to return to London?”
“You tell me.”
“I can have a preliminary report Monday afternoon. But there’s a surcharge for rush jobs.”
“How much?”
“Fifty thousand up front,” said Gallagher. “Twenty-five thousand on delivery.”
After signing the release forms and handing over the check, Gabriel and Sarah hurried along Riverside Avenue to the Metro North station and purchased two tickets to Grand Central.
“The next train is at four twenty-six,” said Sarah. “With any luck, we’ll be sipping martinis at the Mandarin Oriental by six o’clock.”
“I thought you preferred the Four Seasons.”
“There was no room at the inn.”
“Not even for you?”
“Trust me, I gave the head of reservations a piece of my mind.”
“Where do you suppose Phillip Somerset is spending his weekend?”
“Knowing Phillip, he could be anywhere. Besides his town house on East Seventy-Fourth Street, he owns a ski lodge in Aspen, an estate on the East End of Long Island, and a large portion of Lake Placid in the Adirondacks. He flits between them on his Gulfstream.”
“Not bad for a former bond trader from Lehman Brothers.”
“You’ve obviously been reading up on him.”
“You know me, Sarah. I’ve never been able to sleep on airplanes.” Gabriel gave her a sideways glance. “What’s the weather like in Lake Placid this time of year?”
“Miserable.”
“What about Aspen?”
“No snow.”
“That leaves Manhattan or Long Island.”
“I’ll call him first thing Monday.”
“Get it over with. You’ll feel better.”
“Unless the Van Dyck turns out to be a forgery.” Sarah opened a blank email and added Phillip Somerset’s address. “What’s the subject?”
“Catching up.”
