of a state senator who’d captured his party’s interest.
“I see Carolyn Vandeveer came in from Washington to attend tonight,” he said.
“She and the senator are wooing support for their upcoming presidential bid.” Lily’s tone remained unimpressed.
But Joshua knew his hostess would credit the senator’s wife with the appropriate attention. Lily respected the status of her social standing, and presidential hopefuls were only a small percentage among those who sought favor from the Covington family.
So Joshua maneuvered Lily away from the Graces with questions about another artifact and steered her in Mrs. Vandeveer’s direction. He needed to get about the business that had brought him to this museum. Only then would he be free to enjoy the night ahead.
To make the lady in white’s acquaintance.
Hooking up Lily and the senator’s wife over an urn, he participated in their conversation for a respectable few beats then begged his excuses and headed across the gallery.
Resisting the urge to glance at the lady in white, who’d been drawn into conversation with Jeffrey Baldwin of the Boston metals conglomerate—a slick bastard who never missed a trick—Joshua nodded to an usher and stepped into the hall.
While turning, he pitched a nickel behind him with a surreptitious motion, and the tinkle of the coin hitting the floor resounded exactly where he’d meant it to—inside the gallery. When the usher turned around, Joshua vanished down the hall that led to the restrooms.
Chattering voices over the smooth strains of classical music soon faded, yielding to the muted silence of an after-hours museum. Glancing at his watch, he pushed open the restroom door and entered a foyer decorated in the fashion of a gentleman’s drawing room. Joshua peered around the corner to confirm he was alone then retrieved his cell phone from a jacket pocket. He depressed a series of numbers.
The ring tone sounded only once before a gravel-voiced man picked up and asked, “You’re on schedule?”
“Yes. What about you?”
“No problems.”
“Good. Three minutes.”
Joshua severed the connection, depressed another button to activate the vibrating ringer and swapped the phone for a pair of black gloves. After donning them, he withdrew a small electronic device from his pocket and cracked the restroom door again. He glanced into the hallway to find it empty, although voices carried from the nearby ladies’ room.
Moving quickly past, Joshua raised the digital imaging device above his head and paused long enough to capture a shot of the dim hall leading to a stairwell exit.
The security monitor was positioned in the upper south corner of the ceiling, and he stopped directly beneath the camera to remain out of range.
It was a trick to balance with a foot on the narrow baseboard and the other bracing the wall, but even at six foot two, he couldn’t easily make the stretch to the ceiling. Slipping the captured image in front of the camera lens with a practiced move, he pressed down to activate the adhesive and secure the device to the crown molding.
And shut down the live feed. Until he removed the device, the security monitors on the basement level would show only the captured image of the empty hall, leaving him free to move to the stairway without detection.
He hoped this device was an unnecessary precaution. He’d arranged for tonight’s contact to bypass this security zone. But Joshua didn’t trust his fate to any man, and the idea of a camera documenting his travels into places that would raise questions wasn’t a risk he would take.
He trusted his fate to no one.
Not that tonight’s business associate presented a significant risk. This career police officer had more to lose than Joshua. In fact, until their business, this officer had been an upstanding citizen with an exemplary career record.
Unfortunately, no man was perfect, and Joshua had built a career out of uncovering other men’s imperfections.
Shaking off the thought, he moved quietly toward the exit at the end of the hall and slid through the doorway as he heard the ladies’-room door hiss open.
The third-floor stairwell was empty, but he waited until footsteps echoed below before beginning his descent. Joshua couldn’t remember exactly when he’d gotten so cautious, but cautious he’d become. Pausing in the shadows, he waited for his contact to appear for a visual verification.
There he was.
Dressed for tonight’s stint as a rent-a-cop, the man’s neatly pressed NYPD uniform fit snugly on his thick shoulders and barrel chest.
“Any problems?” Joshua descended the last few steps.
The officer shook his head. “We’re covered. I disarmed the sector. You brought the reports?”
Joshua ignored the question. “Let’s see the amulet.”
The man reached inside his pocket and withdrew a box.
Joshua had seen an auction-house photo of the White Star while researching this job. He’d thought the ivory amulet plain for Henri, who usually had an eye for more spectacular pieces. But the allure was the amulet’s legend, which prophesied love for the pure of heart and a cursed future for all else.
Joshua didn’t believe in curses, or in any luck except what he made for himself, but as he weighed the amulet in his palm, the ivory felt warm, somehow alive. He wondered if he imagined the sensation or if the police officer had noticed, too.
This NYPD veteran had bought his way out of an indiscretion on the vice squad about three years back. Joshua had uncovered this indiscretion and blackmailed the man into removing the amulet from the precinct property room. Then he’d arranged for immediate delivery. So far everything had gone according to plan. Not that he thought the officer would have had second thoughts about keeping the amulet.
The officer’s one indiscretion in an otherwise exemplary career hadn’t been hard to figure out—a substantial drug bust had gone down around the time the officer had been sending his twin daughters off to college: one at Yale, the other at Vassar.
Joshua suspected that facing Ivy League financial commitments on a policeman’s salary would have the noblest of men thinking twice about taking the high road when a windfall of drugs had fallen into his path.
That’s what had made this officer invaluable. He wasn’t a criminal, but a good guy who’d made a mistake. That distinction meant he could be manipulated.
But the officer’s luck wasn’t all bad. Joshua played fair. One unsupervised visit to a precinct property room, a stolen amulet and a meet on a museum stairwell, and the officer could go back to his wife and second mortgage with no one the wiser.
As Joshua turned the amulet over, he knew he’d chosen his target well—the officer was more interested in covering up a mistake than profiting by it.
Setting the White Star back inside the box, Joshua extracted a sheaf of papers from his inside jacket pocket. He waited while the officer skimmed the documents before asking, “You’re satisfied?”
“If I could trust I won’t see copies of these again.”
“I’m not interested in you, and the people I represent don’t know who you are. Those documents are payment for services rendered. No more or less.”
The man inclined his head in grudging acceptance. Joshua knew the officer didn’t believe him and wondered if it mattered.
Guilt only plagued men capable of feeling it.
Without a backward glance, Joshua took the stairs two at a time and paused with his ear to the door, listening for sounds from the restrooms, hearing nothing. He cracked the door and peered down the hallway in both directions to find it empty.
Edging the door wider, he slipped through then