“We all make mistakes,” Caleb said in a sympathetic tone that was betrayed by his broad grin.
“This morning I called every institution that owns a Psalm Book,” Pearl said. “Yale, the Library of Congress, Old South Church in Boston, everyone. They confirmed that all was fine.” He wiped his face with a handkerchief.
Caleb took up the story. “We went over all the accepted points of authenticity regarding the book. That’s what took us so long.”
“I came convinced it was a forgery,” Pearl admitted. “But even though we examined the entire book, I knew from the opening pages that it was real. I could tell largely from the uneven presswork. The printer thinned his ink sometimes, or else there were splotches of it across the printing elements. In first editions you will always see signs of dried ink caked in between the letters, which makes it very difficult to read. It was not the norm back then to wash one’s typeset letters. The other points one would expect to see, indeed have to see in a first edition, are all there. All there,” he repeated.
“Of course, the authenticity will have to be confirmed by a team of experts undertaking stylistic, historical and scientific analysis,” Caleb noted.
“Precisely,” Pearl agreed. “Still, I believe in my heart what their answer will be.”
Stone said, “That there’s a twelfth existing copy of the Psalm Book?”
“Indeed,” Pearl confirmed quietly. “And Jonathan DeHaven had it.” He shook his head. “I can’t believe he never told me. To have one of the world’s rarest books, one that some of the greatest collectors of all time never possessed. And to keep it a secret. Why?” He looked at Caleb helplessly. “Why, Shaw?”
“I don’t know,” Caleb acknowledged.
“What would something like that be worth?” Reuben asked.
“Worth?” Pearl exclaimed. “Worth? It’s priceless!”
“Well, if you’re going to sell it, somebody has to put a price on it.”
Pearl stood and started pacing. “The price will be whatever the highest bid is. And it will run to many, many millions of dollars. There are some collectors and institutions flush with cash right now, and the interest will be extraordinary. There hasn’t been a Psalm Book on the market for over six decades. This will be the positively last chance for some to get it for their collection.” He stopped pacing and looked at Caleb. “And I would be honored to arrange the auction. I could do it in conjunction with Sotheby’s or Christie’s.”
Caleb drew a deep breath. “This is a lot to take in, Mr. Pearl. Let me just think about everything for a day or two, and then I’ll phone you.”
Pearl looked disappointed but managed a smile. “I will eagerly await your call.”
After Pearl had left, Stone said, “Caleb, while you were down in the vault, we searched the house.”
“You did what!” Caleb exclaimed. “Oliver, that is outrageous. I’m only allowed in this house as Jonathan’s literary executor. I have no right to go through his other possessions, and neither do you.”
“Tell him about the telescope,” Reuben prompted with a smug look.
Stone did so, and Caleb’s anger was replaced with astonishment. He said, “Jonathan watching people having sex. That’s repulsive.”
“No, it’s really not,” Reuben replied earnestly. “It’s actually very uplifting in a way. You wanna go check it out with me?”
“No, Reuben!” Stone said firmly. Then he showed Caleb the photo of the young woman and DeHaven.
“If she was Jonathan’s wife, that was before I knew him,” Caleb said.
“If he kept the photo, he might have been in touch with her,” Milton suggested.
Stone said, “If so, she might be someone we need to find.” He glanced at the book Caleb was holding. “What’s that?”
“It’s a book in Jonathan’s collection that needs some work. It got some water damage somehow. I didn’t notice it the last time we were here. I’m going to take it into the conservation department at the library. Our people are the best in the world. One of them does some freelance work on the side. I’m sure he can repair it.”
Stone nodded and said in a warning tone, “Jonathan DeHaven inexplicably had one of the world’s most rare books. He was spying on an adulterous defense contractor and maybe saw more than sex. And no one knows how he really died.” He looked at his friends. “I think we have our work cut out for us.”
“Why do we have to do anything?” Reuben asked.
Stone looked at him. “Jonathan DeHaven might have been murdered. Someone followed us. Caleb works at the library, and he’s been commissioned to be DeHaven’s literary executor. If Cornelius Behan was involved in DeHaven’s death, he now might suspect that Caleb knows something. That might put Caleb at risk. So the sooner we find out the truth, the better.”
“Wonderful,” Caleb said sarcastically. “I just hope I manage to live through it.”
Chapter 23
“You will receive an e-mail from my people,” Annabelle said. She was standing in the operations center at the Pompeii Casino with several of Bagger’s people in attendance. “When you open the e-mail, it will provide you with detailed instructions.”
One of the men spoke up. “We don’t like opening e-mails if we don’t know where they’re from.”
Annabelle nodded. “Hit it with all your antivirus stuff. I’m assuming you’re state-of-the-art.”
“We are,” the same man said confidently.
“Then do like the lady told you and hit it hard,” Bagger said impatiently.
Leo sat in one corner of the room, his gaze resolutely on the other men. His job was to note any degree of suspicion or concern while Annabelle went through her spiel. It didn’t hurt matters that she was wearing a very clingy, short skirt, with no hose and a blouse with the top two buttons undone. Every guy in the room followed each glimpse of her upper thighs and cleavage. And if they were doing that, they weren’t thinking as clearly as they should have been. Annabelle Conroy, Leo had long ago learned, used every asset in her arsenal.
“The only form of acceptable communication will be through the secure Web portal contained in the e-mail. Under no circumstances will you use your phone or fax, both of which can be monitored. Correction,” she added, glancing at Bagger, “both of which are monitored.”
Bagger raised his eyebrows on that comment but said, “You heard the woman. Nothing but the Net.” Bagger was no doubt secure in his cooperation because he had an ace, or in this case, two aces in the hole. He would be holding Annabelle and Leo until his money came back.
“The e-mail will tell you where and how to send the funds. Two days later the funds will be automatically wired back to your account, plus the interest.”
“And one million becomes one point one million in a couple of days, right?” Bagger said.
Annabelle nodded. “Just like we said, Jerry. Not a bad payday.”
“It better be,” he said ominously. “When can we start?”
Annabelle checked her watch. “The e-mail should be coming over your system right about now.”
Bagger snapped his fingers, and one of his men checked the computer.
“Here it is,” the man said. He hit a few buttons. “I’m just running it through some extra security scans to make sure it’s clean.”
Two minutes went by, and then the IT guy looked up. “Okay, it’s good.”
“Open it,” Bagger ordered.
“You have your own money-wiring capabilities, right?” Annabelle asked, even though her careful background research had already provided the answer.