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“No one that wasn’t involved.”

“What’d you do with the hole in the wall?”

“Hung a tapestry over it.” Sean smiled at his own ingenuity. “Then we stacked storage items in front of that.”

I nodded. That was good. If the family didn’t know about it, they might not discover for years that there was even a secret room in the basement, much less what had been inside. “Who all knows about this, then?”

Sean looked at Niall. I followed his gaze.

Niall motioned around the room with a twirling finger. “All of us. And Brian.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“No one else?”

“Aye, that’s what I said.”

“What about the Yank, then?”

Niall glanced over at Sean, then back at me. He shook his head. “Just us four, Shae. No one else.”

I felt a stab of pity for the young American scholar. I’d seen him at the pub once in a while. He was one of the few men that hadn’t tried to come onto me. I allowed a moment of silence for him, then moved closer to the golden coffin. My fingertips snaked out and touched the cool metal. “It’s beautiful,” I whispered.

I sensed Sean at my side. “The Yank said it was cursed.”

“I’m sure.”

“Ye don’t believe in curses, lass?”

I shook my head.

Sean chuckled. “Dex, he said the same thing.”

I barely listened to him. Instead, I ran my hand across the golden surface. The incredible smoothness glided beneath my fingertips. Realizing that it was crafted thousands of years ago set my mind racing.

Sean cleared his throat. “So what do ye think?”

I swallowed. “I think it must be worth millions.”

“It’s worth,” Sean said, “whatever someone will pay for it.”

“And that’s where ye come in, lass,” Niall added.

After he laid out the plan, we huddled around the fireplace, each of us trying to draw warmth from the pitiful flames.

“If it gets any colder, lass, we might have to get naked and share body warmth,” Sean said.

I shot him a hard stare.

“To avoid dyin’ from the cold,” he added.

“I’d rather die,” I told him.

“Aw, come on,” Sean said. “It’s not like Niall here hasn’t seen you in the nip — ”

My hand flashed out and grabbed him by the balls. I squeezed.

Sean gasped. His eyes filled with pain and surprise.

“Get this straight,” I told him. “This is going to be a business arrangement. Nothing more. We do a bit of business for the Cause and maybe make a touch of coin ourselves. But I won’t be putting up with any of this. Ye hear me, lad?”

Sean nodded frantically, his mouth hanging open.

I glanced over at Niall. “Same for you.”

Niall gave me a barely perceptible nod.

I let go of Sean’s yockers.

He drew in a ragged breath. “You bitch!” he grunted. He put his hand on the butt of his pistol to draw it.

Niall reached out and touched his shoulder.

“Let it lie, lad,” he said calmly. “Ye should na’ have said what you did.”

Sean glowered at me, but obeyed.

I looked back into the small fire. Now they knew where things stood with me. And I knew who was in charge.

We sat on the park bench, each pretending to read a copy of The Irish Times in the dim light of the streetlamp. I glanced up at the clock tower a block away. It showed five minutes of nine. I was due in the pub at nine.

The small tremble of fear and anticipation hovered in the pit of my stomach, just like it always did. I’d been on the fringe of Sinn Fein for years. I’d done small favors. Passed messages. Delivered a few packages. Once, I’d even hidden a lad on the lam. But I knew this was much more serious.

“That’s why I can’t do it,” Niall had said back at the farmhouse those few days ago. “I’m known. The man you’ll be meeting is known. If we’re seen together, someone will figure out that there’s something afoot. You’re not known. If ye’re seen with him, no one will think a thing.”

“They’ll think I’m just some pretty,” I said.

“Exactly. That’s why it has to be you.”

“I ken ye.”

“The contact’s name is Conor,” said Niall.

Hardly an uncommon name, I thought, but surely not the man’s real name, either.

“Just tell him we want to donate the mummy to the Cause. All we’re asking is a small finder’s fee,” Niall instructed.

“How small?”

When he told me, I almost laughed. Niall was such a poser, but he set his sights way too low.

“What’re ye grinning about?” he asked.

I shook my head. “Just thinking about all the pints that’ll buy.”

He smiled. “Aye. A year’s worth, at least.”

I smiled back at him.

Feckin’ eejit.

The clock struck nine. I rose and made my way to the pub.

Conor looked much younger than I expected. Only the scar across his chin and the beginnings of crow’s feet gave any hint to his true mileage.

He smiled at me when I sat next to him. We chatted about nothing over a couple of pints. He pawed at me playfully. I let him, laughing. We played the fools, but quietly. Within the hour, no one was looking at us any differently than anyone else in the place. The steady buzz of noise provided all the camouflage we needed.

He nuzzled my ear with his lips. “I hear ye might have something for me mates,” he whispered.

I let out a girlish giggle and nodded.

“Is it really a mummy?” he asked.

I nodded again.

“What’s it in?”

I turned my face to his. “She’s in a beautiful gold casket,” I whispered.

His eyebrows rose at that.

I leaned forward and kiss the side of his neck. “It’s worth millions,” I said in a low, husky voice. “And the best part is, no one is even looking for it.”

“How’s that?”

I pulled back from him and took another drink from my pint. Then I told him a fanciful story about a woman who went shopping for a dress. He listened carefully and picked out all the clues. He was a clever lad, this Conor. A few minutes later, he understood.

“I’m not much for dresses,” he said.

“That’s good.”

“Aye, ‘tis.” He smiled. “But I’d love to buy myself a fine cottage one day. Something outside of Belfast, in the country somewhere. Do ye know anything about real estate, lass?”

“A thing or two,” I said.

“What do ye suppose a cottage like that would cost?”

I pretended to consider. Then I gave him a sum that was ten times what Niall proposed.

He listened, nodding his head. “That’s reasonable, but I wasn’t thinking quite so extravagant. Say about a third less? Could a man find a cottage for that sum?”

“I’m certain he could,” I said.

And just like that, the deal was struck.

Later, I told Niall. He whooped for joy, reached out and pulled me into an embrace. “Thank Christ!” he shouted.

I pushed him away in disgust. “Get control of yerself!” I hissed at him.

He was so ecstatic, my sharp words didn’t even dent his enthusiasm. He started the car and drove, grinning and shaking his head like the dumfounded, thrilled fool he was.

But my mind started working again. I didn’t mind the idea of sharing a bit of the money with Niall and his eejit friends. They found the damn thing, after all. But I knew they’d never keep their mouths shut. As time passed, they’d start to tell tales at the pub and word would get out. Hell, Niall couldn’t even keep one drunken bounce with me to himself. After a while, the law would hear tell of it and then it was anybody’s guess how much they could prove or manufacture.

And as for the Cause? Did I believe in it? For a long time, I thought I did, but I wasn’t so sure anymore. The Troubles were confusing enough as it was. For all I knew, it was the IRA that killed my father. Of course, if he’d fallen in with Sinn Fein, then it could’ve been the English that shot him. Then again, for all I knew, it was something else entirely. Maybe he owed someone money. I didn’t know. I’d never known.