“Good of you to come over like this, Velvet,” he said, speaking briskly but keeping his voice low. “As soon as I heard about you I knew you were the perfect man for the job.”
Nick glanced down at the guidebook, which covered the Perigord region of France. “Thinking of taking a trip?”
“My wife and I often drive through Europe in the summer. The villages of France are especially picturesque. Have you ever been there?”
“I was in Paris once, a few years back, but not really long enough to enjoy it.”
Haskins glanced about, making certain their conversation would not be overheard in the noonday din. “We understand you’re a professional thief, Mr. Velvet.”
“Of sorts.” Nick was indeed a professional thief, but he stole only what other thieves avoided — the improbable, the valueless, the bizarre. If someone was willing to pay his fee, no task was too far-fetched. And he knew Harry Haskins had not summoned him across the Atlantic without knowing this.
“It’s a very confidential matter, really. On Wednesday morning — day after tomorrow — the Queen will receive a state visit from the President of the newly independent nation of Gola. As a good-will gesture the President of Gola plans to present the Queen with seven ravens in a cage.”
“I see.” The waiter arrived with two mugs of warm beer.
“The ravens have an important symbolism in Gola, and since we’ve always kept a few of the birds at the Tower of London it seemed an appropriate gift.”
Nick Velvet nodded. He never questioned the motives of his clients, and the assignment seemed straightforward enough. “You want me to steal the seven ravens before they’re presented to the Queen.”
Haskins’ eyes widened. “Not at all, Velvet. You completely misunderstand. We’ll pay you to see that they aren’t stolen.”
Nick took a long swallow of warm beer and wondered about the next flight back to New York. “You’re the one who seems to have misunderstood, Mr. Haskins. I’m no sort of detective or police guard. I charge a flat fee — about eight thousand pounds in your money — and for that amount I’ll steal almost anything. But I don’t catch thieves or prevent robberies.”
“I thought this might be a special case, since it involves the British government.”
“Then get a British citizen to guard the ravens. Why bring an American over for it — and a thief at that!”
Harry Haskins leaned back in his chair, a slightly pained expression on his face. “Your reputation is the finest, Velvet. And for internal security reasons we’d rather have a non-Britisher in the role. We don’t want someone protecting the ravens who can be interviewed by the press the next day. Once your assignment is over you’ll go back across the ocean and the whole thing will quickly die down.”
Haskins’ reasoning did not fully convince Nick, but Haskins’ next action did. He slipped a piece of paper from his pocket and passed it across the table. It was a check for £10,000. “That’s more than my usual fee,” Nick commented.
“I know. But it’s all yours if the seven ravens are delivered to the Queen on Wednesday morning. You’ll note that the check is dated Wednesday. The funds will not be available until after the presentation ceremony.”
Nick Velvet thought about it. He was never one to refuse money, and to be paid for not stealing something was, in a sense, much easier than to be paid for stealing it. Perhaps, just this once— His hand closed over the check and he said, “I’ll see what I can do.”
Haskins nodded. “I’m sure I can count on you.”
In the afternoon Nick took the Underground to Regent’s Park and strolled along Broad Walk to the zoo. It was a clear day, warmer than usual for a London May, and he felt a bit carefree. With the check already in his pocket very little needed to be done. Perhaps a bit of shopping for Gloria, and some sightseeing, and by Wednesday night he’d be flying home.
He did feel, however, that a visit to the zoo might be in order since he was hardly able to distinguish between a raven and a crow. After some minutes of standing before a large domed cage full of big black birds he sought out a friendly keeper.
“Ravens and crows? Well, they’re both members of the same family, but ravens are larger, and they differ in many ways. Ravens have a wedge-shaped tail, while a crow’s tail is shorter and more gently rounded. They sound different, too, and ravens are more aggressive. Their nests are larger, and they lay more eggs. And of course there’s a great deal of superstition attached to ravens.”
Nick watched the birds circle in brief flight inside the cage. He didn’t realize at first that the keeper had moved out of earshot to attend to his chores. He asked, without looking around, “What sort of superstition?”
A girl’s voice answered him. “In Grimm’s fairy tales the seven ravens were seven enchanted brothers.”
He turned, startled, and faced a slim blonde girl with pale blue eyes, an upturned nose, and long slender legs. She was the best-looking thing he’d seen in London so far. “Were you speaking to me?”
“I just said—”
He grinned. “You know a great deal about ravens. And fairy tales.”
“You’re American, aren’t you?”
“Guilty. But you’re not British.”
“Irish, actually. My name is Pat McGowan.”
She paused, waiting, so he told her, “Mine’s Nick Velvet. I’m over here for a few days on business.”
“Do you like London?”
“The people one meets are certainly friendly enough.”
She blushed. “I have a confession to make, Mr. Velvet.”
“Let me guess. You followed me here.”
Her eyes widened. “How did you—?”
Nick smiled at her astonishment. “You mentioned seven ravens, and I don’t believe in coincidences. Who are you, really?”
“Just who I said I am. But you’re right, I did follow you here.”
He stared into her pale blue eyes. “Why would you do a thing like that?”
“You steal things, don’t you?”
“Not from pretty Irish girls, I don’t.”
“I represent people with money, Mr. Velvet. They’re willing to pay. We tried to contact you in America, but we learned you were already en route here.”
Nick was beginning to see it clearly. “Don’t tell me that you want me to steal the seven ravens before they’re presented to the Queen on Wednesday morning.”
“You amaze me! Now how did you know that?”
“I do have a certain reputation in such matters, and since you’d already referred to the ravens and said you tried to contact me in America, it seemed a likely guess.” It also explained why Harry Haskins had been so eager to hire Nick to prevent the theft of the ravens. It wasn’t that he wanted a non-Britisher who could be out of reach of the press. Rather, it was simply that Haskins had discovered Pat McGowan’s plan to hire Nick and had got to him first with a larger bid.
“Then you are agreeable?” the girl asked him.
“My price is high.”
“We know your price, and Mr. Stavanger is prepared to meet it.” The dedicated intensity of her face reminded him of a girl he’d known in his youth. She’d worn spangled tights and twirled a flaming baton at political rallies in lower Manhattan, and afterward she had discussed the world’s problems with Nick over pitchers of cold beer.
“Who is Mr. Stavanger?” he asked. “What group do you represent?”
“The group is anti-British and that’s all I care about. I fought the British in the streets of Belfast last summer and I’ll fight them here in London this summer!”