Jude Modesto stared at him. Humpty Dumpty’s handkerchief came out, went back and forth across the wide, pink face. The chin, with its little sandy beard, twitched. “What are you offering? To get me onto the property?”
“That’s not going to happen. Now, as for what I do have-do you want to find out? Yes or no?”
Modesto glowered. “You have five minutes, kid,” the fat man said at last. “Start talking.”
“I won’t need that much time,” Colin said. “Now listen. I’m going to give you something today and you’re going to take it with you and get it tested. When you do, you’re going to be desperate to talk to me-you’re going to want to come and camp out by the gates of the farm. But you’re not going to do that. Instead, you’re going to send me an email, and it’s going to say one word-‘Yes.’ And then I’ll let you know where we go from there. Got it?”
Jude Modesto was clearly wrestling with the stillstrong impulse to heave himself up out of the chair and storm out of the room, but he was also impressed by Colin’s certainty. “You know, you’re a very rude young man.”
“No, I just don’t like to waste time. Here.” Colin reached into his briefcase and pulled out a pill bottle. Inside the bottle a small, pale chip sat on a folded piece of dark cloth.
“That little white thing?” Modesto squinted as he took the bottle. “What is it?”
“That’s for you to find out. Remember, you’re not testing me-I’m testing you. I already know what it is. But I’d suggest you give it to someone discreet-someone you really trust. Because you’re not going to want this to be general knowledge.”
For the first time, Jude Modesto looked less than certain of himself, even a bit worried, as though Humpty Dumpty had just heard that all the king’s horses and men might not honor their putting-him-together contract after all. “Tested?”
“Yes. Oh, and I’d recommend you have it done by someone with training in biology.”
Modesto was about to ask another question when they were both distracted by noise outside the office: a car door slamming downstairs in the parking lot. If it was Gideon, he was ten minutes early! Colin felt like he was going to be sick.
“I have to hide,” he said, looking around in terror. Why couldn’t Gideon show up on time like he was supposed to? “Where can I hide?”
“Don’t look at me,” snapped Modesto, although he seemed nervous too. “I didn’t ask you to come.”
Colin wanted to hit the fat man. “But if he finds me here, that’s the end of a multimillion-dollar deal for you.”
Now they could clearly hear footsteps on the concrete steps outside. Colin was thinking of trying to force the window open, despite the air conditioner built into the frame, when Modesto pointed at a couple of fabric partitions with metal frames standing against the wall. “Hide behind those,” he suggested, wiping at his sweating face again. “But you better do it fast, kid.”
Colin set the two screens side by side, close to the wall, leaving room to hide behind them, but then realized that his feet would show at the bottom. He had just dragged a box behind one of the screens when the door of the office began to open. Colin jumped up on the box and held his breath.
“Modesto? Ah, I see you let yourself in.” It was Gideon’s voice, all right.
“Mr. Goldring. A pleasure to see you, sir.”
“Yes, I’m sure.” Gideon’s chair squeaked as he sat down. “You know Ragnar, I think.”
“Mr. Lodbrok, nice to see you again,” said Modesto.
Colin inched forward a little, doing his best not to bump the fabric, and put his eye to the crack between the two screens. If he hunched a little he could just make out the area around the desk. Gideon looked wilted by the heat, his rooster comb of white hair a bit bedraggled. His eyes, though, were still bright and fierce. “So, Modesto, I’m sure you’d like to know what we have in the box.”
“Of course,” the dealer said. “Always the highlight of my day-no, my entire month. What have you brought me this time?”
Gideon carefully lifted something out of the box. Colin couldn’t quite see it, but Jude Modesto obviously could. “Goodness!” he said. “I mean… goodness! Is that a red-figured amphora I see? Oh, my, that’s one of the most astonishing Greek vases I’ve ever seen-might even be the Berlin painter!”
“Might indeed,” said Gideon with a tone of deep satisfaction. “But I’ll leave that to the experts. I’ve a couple more pieces for you. Some Phoenician glass and a Mesoamerican obsidian knife. Should be worth a few dollars.” He chuckled.
“Oh, yes, they’re lovely, lovely. Oh, I’ll have no problems selling these, Mr. Goldring. What a treasure trove old Mr. Tinker must have left you! I would dearly love to have a look at it all someday-surely you should have the collection reappraised, just to make sure the insurance is adequate!”
“No, I’m afraid not, Mr. Modesto. I have my ways, as you know, and I don’t hold much with visitors.”
“But you wouldn’t even have to see me!”
“I said no. Now, what do you think these might be worth?”
How much things were worth was a subject that interested Colin very much, and he listened carefully as Jude Modesto made an estimate and wrote out a check as an advance.
It’s still small change compared to what we could get, Colin thought. You think too small, Gideon-too small!
“Thank you, sir,” said Gideon, tucking the check into his wallet. “A pleasure doing business with you. Let me know when you’ve finished the appraisals and are putting the items up for-”
“Gideon,” said Ragnar suddenly. “Someone is coming up the stairs!”
And now Colin could hear it too-the thumping of what sounded like several pairs of heavy feet.
“No one would be… ” Gideon began lightly, then suddenly his tone changed as the door opened. Colin couldn’t see it, but he could see the look on Gideon’s and Ragnar’s faces-like a wolf had suddenly strolled out of the dark and into the middle of camp.
“What the hell is going on?” Gideon demanded.
“S-sorry to catch you by surprise,” said Jude Modesto, suddenly so nervous he was stuttering a little, “but I’d like to introduce you to my best client, Edward Stillman.”
“Stillman!” Gideon said it like the world’s worst curse word. “What the hell are you doing here? Modesto, you traitor!”
Ragnar turned on the antiques dealer. “I should break your neck for this.”
Modesto squealed and tipped over his chair trying to get away. In the excitement Colin changed position so that he could get a better view. Three men stood in the doorway. Two of them were extremely tall, muscular, and bald, so that they looked like twins even though one was black and one white. It wasn’t hard to guess that they were bodyguards. Between them stood someone Colin had never seen before, a small, fit man with white hair-Edward Stillman, apparently.
Jude Modesto had taken refuge behind Stillman and his guards. Ragnar looked like he didn’t care how many men he’d have to wade through to get his hands on the fat little antiques dealer. One of the bodyguards reached menacingly into his coat, but Stillman raised a tanned, well-manicured hand. “Now, now, no violence, please. Let’s keep the guns holstered. Mr. Modesto didn’t sell you out, Gideon. I have been his main buyer for your collection for some time. I just insisted he let me meet with you in person. He didn’t know anything about our previous acquaintance.”
“Previous acquaintance? You call trying to steal my wife, my farm, and my life’s work a ‘previous acquaintance’? You really have a way with words, Stillman.” Gideon got up from his chair. “Come on, Ragnar.”
“Not so fast.” Stillman gestured and one of the burly men moved forward. He and Ragnar stood chin to chin, staring at each other. They were about the same size, but Stillman’s guard looked about thirty years younger. Colin pulled back. Some bodyguards, he thought, and felt a hysterical giggle rising inside him. I could be waiting back here to kill this Stillman guy and they didn’t even search the place.