Eye of the God (21 page)

“Gentlemen,” Abby interrupted, her voice soft. “I don't think there's any need for a heated discussion. I was just illustrating my faith in both Diebold and Mr. Wallace.”

Peter Trent nodded slowly. “That may have been your intention, Abby, but I think you may be on to something. I think if you wore the diamond during the celebration it would lend a certain extravagance.”

Somewhere behind his bookish glasses, a fire burned in Dr. Trent's eyes.

“I don't follow.”

“I think it could work. I think we should consider having you wear the Hope Diamond.”

“I can't believe I'm actually hearing this.” Daniel shook his head and pressed a thumb into his temple as if trying to suppress a headache.

Dr. Trent grinned. “It's not so unheard of you know. Back in 1995 Michelle Pfeiffer wore the Hope Diamond for a magazine spread in
Life
magazine. And it's been taken out for an occasional cleaning.”

“I don't know, sir,” Abby said. “This would be—”

“Utterly unexpected.” A grin spread across his face. “You do know it would make us the hottest ticket in Washington?”

She chewed thoughtfully on her bottom lip. “If it's donations you want, I could almost guarantee that pulling a stunt like that would get you all the donations you need.”

“Yes, yes. You're right.” He nodded vehemently. “I think we should do it. When I meet with the Board of Regents I will propose that you wear the Hope Diamond.”

“Wait a minute!” Daniel stammered. “You can't be serious. Two minutes ago I told you the diamond isn't safe in its own case and now you want to let her wear it? That's the most absurd thing I've ever heard!”

“I'm sorry to offend your sensibilities, Mr. Wallace, but I hardly care what you think.”

“Given the fact that I know more about security than anyone in the tri-state area, I think you may want to consider what I have to say.”

“I find that ironic coming from the man who just presided over the largest security breach in Smithsonian history.”

Daniel pressed his lips into a thin line. “That illustrates my point. We don't know who has an interest in the diamond, and we can't give them a chance.”

“
If
anyone has an interest. We don't have any reason to believe that the diamond is in any danger whatsoever. This entire conversation is pure speculation.”

Daniel took a deep breath and then uttered his words carefully, as though speaking to a child. “I can guarantee you that there are parties who would love to get their hands on it. They're just waiting for the right opportunity. I don't want to provide them with one.”

“What you are saying, Mr. Wallace, is that those criminals are smarter than you.”

“I did not say that.”

“Your words imply that you believe it.”

“Ridiculous!”

“Then why don't you prove it to me? If you are truly as good at your job as you suggest, then you can prevent another security breach and keep the Hope Diamond safe while it hangs around Abby's neck.”

Daniel clenched his jaw as he stared at Dr. Trent. “You don't think I'm up for the challenge?”

“You said it yourself, Mr. Wallace.”

“I can do it.”

“Then show me.”

Daniel stood, his face flushed with anger. “I don't like being challenged, Dr. Trent.”

“And I don't like being insulted. So why don't you do your job, and I'll do mine.”

“I'm trying,
sir.
”

“Then stop worrying about policy and start worrying about keeping dirty little hands off my diamond.”

“Guys, I think this is getting out of hand,” Abby said. She stood and placed a hand on Daniel's shoulder.

“I appreciate you wanting to be the peacemaker, Abby, but I've made my decision. I want you to wear the diamond during the fund-raiser. It will be the highlight of your presentation.”

“I do believe it would be dramatic,” she said. Daniel tensed under her hand. “But I also think it would be risky.”

“Perhaps. I can't deny that. But it would be groundbreaking as well.”

“It would definitely qualify as groundbreaking.”

“Do you think you can pull it off, Dr. Mitchell?”

“Pull it off?”

“Wear the diamond, I mean. Do you think you could do that?”

Abby laughed. “I think every woman on this planet has dreamed about wearing that diamond at one time or another.”

“Then we're done here,” Dr. Trent said. “The two of you make whatever preparations you need to in order to secure this event. I will take this to the Board of Regents. You have my full support.”

Scowling, Daniel Wallace left Dr. Trent's office and returned to the security terminus. He had gone into the meeting insisting on higher security for the diamond, and
left with it utterly exposed. And somewhere in the middle was Dr. Abigail Mitchell.

Daniel took a seat before the computer consoles, lost in thought.

“I'm guessing the meeting didn't go well,” Marshall said.

“That would be an understatement.”

“What happened?”

Daniel pulled his pen from his coat pocket and clicked. “The diamond is coming out of the vault during the fundraiser.”

“
What?
”

“Abby Mitchell is going to wear it while she delivers her speech.”

“That's ludicrous! Whose idea was that?”

Daniel looked at Marshall sharply. “That,” he said, “is a great question.”

Dr. Trent had certainly insisted on the idea, but as he recalled the conversation, it was Abby who had thrown the idea out there in the first place, casually. Perhaps too casually.

Something occurred to Daniel as he mentally reviewed the meeting. “Marshall. Did you ever track down a visual on that intruder?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Get it up on the screen.” He stared at the security feed from the Hope Diamond display.

“I have a hunch, and I just want to confirm it.”

15

“C
AN I SEE YOU TONIGHT?” ALEX ASKED.

Abby pressed the iPhone to her ear and propped her bare feet on the desk. “I'd like to,” she said, “but I can't. I need to work late. Plus I need to get a good night's sleep tonight. Someone has been keeping me up late.”

“I was hoping you could help me pick out a tux for this shindig on Saturday.”

“Are you going for classic or edgy?”

“What do you think?”

“Classic would be my suggestion.”

“Classic it is then.”

“In that case, you probably want Bethesda Tailors. They have the best selection.”

“Thanks. Sure you can't come?”

“Positive.” She murmured good-bye and hung up.

Abby looked out the window and studied the lights of a city brimming with life. For a moment her thoughts drifted to the families gathered together, and she suddenly felt alone. She was tempted to call Alex and say she'd changed her mind, but she resisted. Instead, she pulled a stack of release forms from her desk and set them on her lap. She went through them one by one, signing her name, pen scratching against paper in the stillness.

Halfway through her signature, her hand paused, as she tried to unravel the emotional knot in her stomach. This entire event—the planning, the extravagance, and
now the manipulation—went against her character. How did she get here?

Abby finished signing her name and then dropped her feet to the floor. She stuffed the remaining paperwork, along with her laptop, inside her briefcase and slipped on her heels. She left The Castle, drawn by a familiar urge.

“My wife's gonna kill me,” Blake Marshall said, looking at the clock. “I'm already an hour late.”

Daniel paced behind him and glanced at the clock. It crept toward nine o'clock. “Just bring up a still shot of the intruder's face, and you can go. I'll do the rest.”

Marshall drummed his fingers on the keyboard, and within seconds a picture appeared on the main screen. “It took me a while to track him because he intersected with at least three guards that night. But I managed to follow him through the building, and he never actually scanned the stolen card on his way out. He went down the stairwell and walked out with a group.”

“Clever.”

“Perhaps, but not a perfect crime,” Marshall said. “We got this picture of him.”

Daniel stared at the grainy surveillance photo. “Good job. Get on home. I'll handle this.”

“Are you sure?”

“Listen, man, a job like this can eat your marriage. Trust me. You don't want that to happen.”

“Thanks,” Marshall said. “See you in the morning?”

Daniel never took his eyes from the screen. “I'll be here.”

It wasn't often in this job that Daniel Wallace got to use the full range of capabilities he honed during his years in
the Navy, but as he scanned the intruder's face, he knew that most of them would come into play now.

He studied the intruder: 5'11", 190 pounds, athletic, confident, dangerous. Daniel knew the man had done this before, knew he would do it again. A career thief most likely.

But who is this guy, and how do I find him?

Alex pushed through the door to his apartment and found Isaac on his couch. His brother had propped his feet on the coffee table, and he gnawed on the end of a lit cigar.

“About time you got back,” Isaac said.

“What are you doing here?”

Isaac puffed the cigar, cheeks hollow. “Waiting.”

“I don't recall asking you to.”

“You didn't have to. It's my job.”

“Put that thing out.”

Isaac took another drag, smoke curling from the corners of his mouth. He crushed the cigar onto the top of the glass coffee table.

“Where's the girl?”

“At work,” Alex said. “Why?”

Isaac stood and crossed the room. “You like her,” he accused.

Alex pushed past his brother and pulled a glass tumbler from the bar. “I like my job.”

“It looks like you're mingling business with pleasure.”

“In case you haven't been paying attention for the last ten years, part of my job
is
pleasure.”

“This is different. The girl is getting to you.”

Alex grabbed a bottle of Crown and poured himself a drink. “What's with you all of a sudden?”

“Just making sure you don't lose focus.”

“I don't need a babysitter.”

Isaac made his way to the door. “So tell me, is she good in bed or do you just make up for it with your enthusiasm?”

Alex drained his tumbler and slammed it down on the granite counter. It shattered, sending shards of glass skittering across the hardwood floor.

Isaac clicked his tongue. “Temper, temper.”

“Get out.”

“You mean you've known this broad for almost a week and you haven't done it? Must be a record.”

Alex locked the deadbolt after Isaac's smug departure. The acrid smell of smoke hung in the apartment, and he flung open the balcony door to rid himself of the stench. He dropped onto the black leather couch, letting his thoughts settle into the darkness of his apartment.

She's not getting to me.