Chapter 1

 
Chapter 1
 
“Alright, listen carefully,” said Paul as he eased the old green van into a parking space near the entrance to the auction house, “I’m not going to have much time to explain everything once we get in there. And when the auction beings, it’s going to go much too fast.”
“Lay it on us, boss,” said Jack Bonney, from the passenger seat. He peered eagerly towards the entrance, then pulled down the sun visor and adjusted the mirror so he could see himself. He tightened his tie – a thin black one that he’d bought new -- and smoothed his hair, making sure the part was crisp and even.
“Cable, are you with me?” asked Paul, glancing in the rear view mirror.
Cable looked up from his iPad and nodded without removing his headphones.
“Is that a yes?” asked Paul, “or are your live-blogging?”
“Hang on,” said Cable into the receiver on his headphones. He tugged on the wire leading to his right earpiece and it dropped out into his hand. “What’d you say?” he asked.
Paul shifted the van into park and killed the motor, just before it stalled on its own. “According to the web preview, there are 200 shelves of books in there. Figure 50-75 books on each shelf. That means we’ve got ten to fifteen thousand books to look at in the next two hours. Cable, do the math. How long is that per book?”
“Eighty three books a minute, or one book every three quarters of a second,” said Cable.
“Right,” said Paul. “And that’s to do everything: look at the entire collection, appraise what’s good, figure out what we can sell and what we can sell it for, for all three stores and more importantly for the Queen Mary Collection, sort out what the other people know that we don’t, and make a master list. Then they kick us out of the room with the books and seal it up so no one can move anything around. The auction is in the next room and once it starts, we’ve got only our notes to rely on. They’ll be selling two to three lots a minute. The whole thing will be over in less than two hours.”
“And then we’ve got a two whole vans full of books for the greatest library afloat,” said Jack.
“If Quinn ever gets here with the other van,” said Paul. “Have you heard from him, Cable?”
Cable tapped his screen and flicked to a GPS app. “Looks like he’s still on the beltway. Moving at less than ten miles per hour.”
Paul looked at his watch and shook his head.
“Do you think the Iron Sheik will be here again?” asked Jack, again looking towards the entrance. “Or the Admiral?”
“They usually are,” said Paul. He grabbed his satchel from the wheel well beside Jack, “let’s go.”
“Who is the Iron Sheik?” asked Cable. He had to ram his shoulder into the door to get it to open. The hinges popped like a gunshot as it opened.
“One of the big buyers,” said Jack, hopping to the ground. “He sells at a upscale flea market in Georgetown, so he’s got deep pockets. Also, he’s a poacher.”
​“What does that mean?” asked Cable.
​“It means he picks out people who he thinks are smarter than he is and he bids against them, without even knowing what he’s bidding on.”
​“Is that allowed?”
​“There’s no way to police it,” said Jack. “No one has to explain why they’re bidding. If he thinks that you’ve found something he hasn’t, he just poaches. Or if he knows that you always leave yourself room to triple your money when you buy something, and if he’s happy just to double his money, then there’s no way to beat him.”
​“Except to bid on things you don’t want from time to time,” said Paul.
​“Just to throw him off?” asked Cable.
​“Let him outbid you and then get stuck with trash now and then,” said Paul.
 
​The three of them crossed the parking lot and bounded up the six concrete steps leading to the Wembly Auction Gallery. From the outside, the building did little to suggest that it was one of the leading rare book and antique auction houses on the east coast. It was a flat fronted warehouse that shared a parking lot with a Korean church and a light fixture distributor. A wrought iron ‘W’ taller than a person was mounted over the door. It had once been painted black, but rusty flakes showed through. There were no other signs to indicate what went on inside, except a small red flag on a pole slipped into a holder on the whitewashed wall. “Auction today,” said the flag. But the lettering could not be read by anyone except someone already most of the way inside. And there was no street traffic in this neighborhood, anyway. It was an industrial complex from the 1970’s, tucked just inside the Washington D.C. beltway.
​Paul held the door for Jack and Cable. Cable, who had never been to the auction house before, let out a low whistle. The room they entered had high ceilings sparkling with a mish mosh of chandeliers – a crystal one near the door, a trio of spidery brass ones a little further along, and something near the back that seemed to be made from moose bones or antlers or something. There were glass cases along one long wall on their right, but some of them were blocked by high backed medieval looking chairs and a harpsicord balanced with the keyboard end down was leaning against another. A row of grotesque African masks leered at them from atop the glass cases, and a few particularly grusome ones grinned from within brightly lit showcases set up as centerpieces on two dining tables fully laid with porcelain place settings for twelve and tarnished but elaborate looking silverware at every place. Artwork in heavy wooden frames was displayed up to the very ceiling on every available piece of wall and on easels strategically angled in corners and blocking private areas. The rugs on the floor were layered two or three deep in places, angled to show each one to its best advantage. Paul strode through it all without looking around. He called out a greeting to someone behind a counter halfway back, “Hello Bud,” before disappearing through a velvet curtain in the back or the room. Jack was right on his heels.
​Cable walked over to the nearest of the showcases and leaned forward as far as he could to see the gargoyle inside. It had shards of shiny white shell or quartz for teeth, projecting menacingly around an unnaturally wide grin. The eyes were blanks, but Cable thought he could see sinew or thread of some sort, as if the eyes were sewn shut, or sewn to something inside. Was it real skin? It was smaller than a human head, darker. There were wisps of hair at the temples and holes where the ears should have been. Cable couldn’t tell if it was attached to a rounded wooden head-shaped block of wood or if was only resting on it.
​“It’s something, isn’t it?” offered a clean cut man in dark blue shirt and striped tie. He smiled eagerly and nodded towards the mask. His sleeves were rolled up to the elbow and, despite smelling slightly of cigarette smoke, he seemed genuine enough. His hands were in his pockets.
​“What is it?” asked Cable, “or what was it?”
​“Our expert at the African Art Museum says that it’s from the Congo,” he said. He pushed up his sleeves, even though they were already up, and put his hands back in his pocket. “She would not confirm that it was human skin, which is to say, we didn’t press her to confirm that, so we’re going to say that it’s monkey. Or gorilla.”
​“It’s disgusting,” said Cable.
​The man nodded eagerly. “Isn’t it?” He extended a hand, “I’m Benson. Benson White.”
​Cable shook his hand.
​“I saw you come in with the Riverby contingent,” said Benson.
​“Do you work here?” asked Cable.
​“Oh, yes. Yes,” said Benson. He rocked up on his toes before seeming to push himself back down to his normal height, which was several inches shorter than Cable, by plunging his hands once again into the pockets of his triple pleated black pants. “I’m the head of the books and prints departments, so Paul and I go way back.”
​Cable only nodded.
​“I, uh, took the liberty,” said Benson, handing Cable a slip of paper. It was twice the size of a dollar bill, stiff ivory paper. The number 512 was written on it in large letters. “Registered you guys when I saw you drive up. More time to spend back there and less waiting in line, when people start to arrive.”
​“Thanks,” said Cable. He didn’t know what the paper meant, but he tucked it carefully inside his iPad case.
​“Let me know if you have any questions,” said Benson. He smiled and Cable glimpsed for a split second a surprising earnestness in the man. Cable had been braced for a slick and maybe sleazy salesman-type, and was steeling himself to throw up the sort of wall that would encourage such a person to leave him alone. But in that short smile, Cable sensed that Benson only wanted to be liked. And before Cable could thank him, he’d backed away and was out of sight, behind an ornate screen of salvaged wrought iron railings.
​From the back of the room, Paul called out, “Cable, where are you?”
​“Coming,” said Cable. He hurried down the open path between tables and chairs and pedestals towards the back of the large room. There was an old African American man sitting at a counter near the back. He had on a maroon polo shirt with the auction house logo on the chest.
​“Good afternoon young man,” boomed the man.
​Cable nodded.
​“Cable,” repeated Paul, coming out from behind the curtain with his phone in his hand. “I can’t get through to Quinn. Can you try him?”
​Cable tapped his screen and slipped the earpiece into place. He got no answer, but the GPS beacon showed that Quinn was still on the beltway. The man with the maroon polo shirt watched with some interest, though he remained seated on his stool, leaning back with his fingers interlocked across his belly.
​Shaking his head, Cable said, “Nothing. Not moving at all now.”
​Paul clenched his lips and clicked his tongue. “Come on back here. We need all hands on deck. It’s a bigger sale than I thought.”
​He led Cable back past the curtain, which hung down in front of the back wall of the room, obscuring a plain glass doorway. Through the door was the book room. It was smaller than the front room, but fully as large as the first floor of the bookstore back in Fredericksburg. There were high shelves all the way around the edges of the room and lower shelves across the center. On one wall were fancy glass fronted wooden shelves, but all the rest were industrial metal shelving units. All were packed full of books, some double stacked, some larger volumes layered in sideways. The room bustled with shuffly intensity. A dozen or more people were in varying states of study. Some were running their hands slowly along the spines of the books, their heads tipped to scan titles. Others were crouched to look at lower shelves. There were eight or nine laptop computers balanced on the tops of bookshelves or on the two long tables in front of the glass fronted shelves, though only a couple currently had people in front of them. Their power cords were draped here and there across the aisles, vying for the too-few outlets. A man and woman – Cable noted that she was the only woman in the room – were murmuring together over notes jotted in a spiral notebook in the corner nearest Cable.
​“But Sabin calls for two maps, not three,” said the man.
​“I know,” said the woman excitedly, “that’s what I’m wondering about. Should we call Jeremy?”
​“Definitely not,” exhorted the man, “not until after the sale, anyway.”
​They noticed that Cable was listening and both looked at him ominously and held up their notebooks in front of their faces a little higher. They did not drop their voices, though. “Do you think the third map is the McPherson survey?” asked the man.
​“I didn’t unfold it all the way,” said the woman, “Too many people around.”
​“Cable,” said Paul, in a tone that indicated that he’d said it before, perhaps more than once.
​Paul’s laptop was set up in the far side of the room, on top of a wooden map case. Jack was already poking at it, with a stack of books piled beside him. When Cable joined them, Paul leaned between them and spoke in a low voice, “there are way more people here than normal. I’m not sure if that means there’s something good here somewhere, but it does mean we’re going to have our work cut out for us. The online catalogue doesn’t look like it was particularly well done, judging from what I’ve seen so far. Usually that happens when a ton of books get consigned right near the consignment deadline and Benson just accepts everything and fills up all the shelves. Even he doesn’t know what’s here.”
​“So it’s good for the Queen Mary library?” asked Cable.
​Paul looked around and then gestured to a section of books in the middle of the room. “It’s pretty much just what we need. Bestsellers, even some new looking paperbacks. What is it, twenty, twenty five lots, Jack?”
​Jack glanced at the printout of the sale lots. “Twenty seven,” he said.
​Paul nodded. “This will be a real life saver, if we can get them.”​
​“Solid gold for the finest library at sea,” said Jack. He snapped shut the cover a glossy dustjacketed copy of a spy thriller. “Not signed, not a first edition. No one here will want to come within ten feet of it.”
​“But it’s just junk,” protested Cable, “it’s exactly the sort of books you’ve been telling us not to buy ever since high school.”
​“That’s why it’s so brilliant,” grinned Jack, “it’s the perfect anti-strategy. We’re the only ones here who want books that aren’t worth anything.”
​“I’m pretty sure that’s not the strategy,” said Cable.
​Jack raised an eyebrow and looked at Cable over the tops of his black rimmed glasses.  “Cable, were your even listening when we agreed to this project? This time it’s not about rare sixteenth century editions of Aristotle and signed copies of the Constitution. It’s about finding five thousand popular titles, that people on vacation will want to read and slapping some library stickers on them, in exchange for an all expense paid vacation.”
​Cable shook his head disgustedly. “Five thousand little bar code stickers, five thousand little rubberstamps, five thousand more library pockets... If we just concentrated on that stuff over there – “ he pointed to the glass fronted shelves, “we could just buy tickets for the Queen Mary and then it would be an actual vacation.”
​“Vacation?” said an old man’s voice, “since when to book dealers take vacations?”
​The voice belonged to a little white haired man with a spry step. His shoulders were slightly hunched, but carried high, as though he were wading through high water. He wore wide waled corduroys cinched tight halfway up his chest.  In his hand he carried a battered, green cloth briefcase, which he set down on the map case next to where Jack was working. He squinted his eyes mischievously at Cable, then smiled at Paul.
​“Hello Lee,” said Paul, “you’re not just getting here, are you?”
​“Oh no,” said Lee, “I was here all day yesterday. I’ve looked through every page of every book. I’m just here to distract everybody else.”
​“Lee, these are my nephews, Jack and Cable Bonney,” said Paul.
​“Nice to meet you fellows,” said Lee. He squinted up at them, and it seemed to Cable that he made a dozen or more quick assessments in the time it took him to smile at each. He nodded his head affably, as if to clear it of whatever conclusions he may have drawn. “Taking a stab at the family business, are you?” he asked.
​“We’ve worked at the bookstore for a long time,” said Cable.
​He immediately wished he hadn’t said it. What seemed like a long time to Cable, four or five years on and off, probably didn’t rate for much with this little old man. He looked like a house elf from the old Harry Potter movies, except with clean skin and sparkling blue eyes.
​“I will defer to you, then,” said Lee without a trace of condescension. He unzipped his bag and removed a legal pad covered with pencil notes. From the chest pocket of his shirt, practically even with his belt, he fished out a stubby pencil. He held the pencil up to check the point, and said, “now then, if you’ll excuse me.”
​Jack grinned at Cable as Lee high-stepped away from them towards the glass fronted cases.
​“Lee used to own the auction house,” said Paul, before Jack could make a remark. “He sold it about ten years ago and has been coming back as a customer ever since.”
​“What does he buy?” asked Jack.
​“You never know,” said Paul. “He claims that he’s only buying for his research library, or for his wife when it’s garden books. But then you turn around during the sale and find him sitting there with three or four different bidder numbers, sometimes even bidding with two of them against each other, eight, ten thousand dollars.”
​“On what?”
​Paul shrugged, “On whatever. He says it’s not for him, that he’s just executing bids for other people.”
​“But you don’t believe him?” pressed Jack.
​“I’m just glad that I don’t end up bidding against him too often,” said Paul.
​“Why not?”
​“He doesn’t lose very often.”
​“I don’t understand,” said Cable, “it’s an auction. Can’t you just outbid him?”
​Paul nodded, “In theory, yes. But keep an eye on him tonight. See how many times he backs off something.”
​“Does he just have more money than anyone else?” asked Cable.
​“I don’t know,” said Paul.
​“So what, you just stop bidding when it’s you against him?” asked Cable.
​“Usually.”
​“But doesn’t he have to resell for a profit too? That doesn’t make sense,” insisted Cable.
​“Alright,” said Paul, “you’ve got almost three hours. Watch him. See what he’s looking at. Do some research on the books he seems interested in. That way you’ll know what there is to know about those books and then let’s see what happens in the sale.”
​“Seriously?” asked Cable, “in the glass cases?”
​“If that’s where he’s spending his time,” agreed Paul.
​“Tremendous,” said Cable. “Thank you.”
​“But first call your brother,” said Paul, “I’m beginning worry.”
​
​
 
​​

The Bonney Boys return to action Christmas Day 2010.
Stay tuned...

The Lost Souvlakis Mystery: Epilogue

Epilogue

            The Bonney Boys were the guests of honor at the Grand Reopening of the National Gem Collection just before Christmas. The Director of the Museum presented them with lifetime memberships to all the Smithsonian museums. As the boys turned the little laminated cards over in their hands, they caught the eye of Detective Deffenbaugh standing in the back of the room. “You’re right,” they said, “it’s pretty nice.” He grinned at them and took a big bite of a frosted pastry that he’d swiped from the dessert buffet.

           

            All the gems had been returned to their places and the exhibit looked beautiful. Meyers, whom the boys had come to like during the time they’d spent with him during the Franklin trial, told them the stories of the various stones. “One of the ironic things about these is,” he said, “when they were in private hands, they were never worn. The owners would commission jewelers to make perfect replicas for them to wear out in public. The real ones usually never left the safety deposit boxes. And yet it’s the stories of the thefts and curses and famous defacements that give them their names and to a large extent, their values.”

            “You’re just telling us this to justify having a fake Hope Diamond in the main display case,” grinned Quinn.

            “Maybe,” said Meyers. “Or maybe knowing that there will be another chapter in the story of the Tavernier Blue isn’t such a bad thing.”

           

            Two letters arrived at the bookstore the following same day, just two days before Christmas. Both were addressed to the Bonney Boys.

            The first was postmarked from an island they’d never heard of in the South Pacific. When they opened the envelope, the stationery was a familiar shade of blue. And the handwriting was instantly recognizable. It said,

            “I have enjoyed following your adventures in the newspapers, but I long for something else to read. Through all these months, I have held out hope that you might have kept my collection intact. If you have, please ship any and all of it to the address below. Many thanks, for what you have done and for what you are surely still to do. Most Sincerely, Anthony Souvlakis.”

            The other letter was a Christmas card from Otis. There was a photograph of him and his wife at a formal ball of some sort, both of them dressed to the nines. Inside, there was no handwritten message, just a preprinted Christmas greeting, “Wishing you and yours a Happy Holiday Season, Peace on Earth, Goodwill toward man. Love from Otis and Grace.”

The Lost Souvlakis Mystery: Chapter 29

Chapter 29

            The next fifteen minutes passed in a heartbeat. RANA VENENOSA was the Emerald Poison Frog. LEPIDOTHRIX IRIS was a bird called the Opal-Crowned Manakin. CERCOPITHECUS KANDTI was the Golden Monkey. TANGARA-NIGROVIRIDIS was the Beryl-spangles Tanager. CHRYSOLOPUS SPECTABILIS was the Sapphire Weevil. CHRYSOCHROA FULGISISSIMA was the Jewel Beetle. SUCCINEOIDEA was the Amber Snail. There were more than a dozen others. All of them were animals named for gems or jewels.

            “This has to be it,” said Quinn, “It has to be. He’s hidden them right there in the mammal hall.”

            “Most of those aren’t mammals,” observed Ellie.

            “Who cares!” said Cable. “Jack, get Max on the phone. Is he up there?”

            Jack dialed Max’s number. When Max answered, Jack wasted no time, “Max, go to the mammal hall. I need you to check something…. Right now!... call me when you get there.”

            While they waited for Max to call back, Cable said, “let’s just go. We’re going to want to be there anyway.”

            Jack agreed immediately. “Can we take your car?” he asked Emily.

            She nodded. “Go go go!”

            “Can I come?” asked Ellie.

            “Absolutely,” said Cable, “Come on!”

           

            They headed onto the highway going as fast as they dared. Max called back.

            “I’m here,” he said, “what do you need?” he was out of breath.

            Jack switched him onto speaker. “Look for birds, snakes, beetles.”

            “In the mammal hall?” said Max.

            “Just do it,” Jack almost screamed.

            “OK,” said Max, “I’m walking around. There’s nothing like that. Wait, did you say snakes?”

            “Yes.”

            “There’s a snake, I think. Does a dead snake count? There’s a dead snake over by the mongoose. You know what I mean; they’re all dead, but this one is made to look dead.”

            “What kind of snake is it?” asked Jack.

            “How should I know?” asked Max. “Brown.”

            “Look on the signs or something,” said Jack.

            “Jack, are you OK? You sound like you’re about to lose it.”

            “Max!” Jack did shout this time.

            “OK, OK” said Max. “I’m looking. Mongoose. Tapir. Oryx. There’s no snake listed on here.”

            “But you’re looking at a snake?” asked Jack.

            “Yes, definitely.”

            “What about any birds?”

            “Hang on.”

            “Dum-te-dum,” hummed Max as he walked around the exhibit.

            “There’s a little blue bird in the mouth of a bobcat type thing,” said Max.

            “OK, Max,” said Jack, “stay where you are. Do not leave the Mammal Hall. Do you understand?”

            “Yes, but why?” asked Max.

            “No wait, go to the information desk and get whatever brochures they have about the mammals. There’s got to be a list of what’s on display there. Get that. Wait for us there.”

            “Which one?” asked Max, “Go get a brochure or stay here?”

            Jack didn’t answer. He’d already hung up the phone. He pulled the business card that Detective Deffenbaugh had given him out of his wallet and dialed the number.

            “Hello?”

            “We figured out where the jewels are,” said Jack, “can you meet us at the Smithsonian?”

            “You did what?” said Deffenbaugh, sounding surprised for the first time since they’d met him.           

            “We know where the jewels are,” repeated Jack.

            “They’re here at the museum?” asked Deffenbaugh.

            “Are you there now?” asked Jack.

            “Yeah.”

            “We’re on our way up now, but we’re probably an hour away. “

            “Where are they?” asked the detective.

            “Just meet us by the elephant,” said Jack, “and make sure we’re not going to get arrested when we get there.”

            They raced up Route 95 in record time. When the museum came into sight, they turned right into the delivery entrance and parked the element in the spots set aside for the construction company, right near the door. The four of them piled out and dashed inside.

            The detective was waiting by the elephant, with Meyers. The latter was visibly distraught. His suit was neatly pressed, but his hair was messy and he looked like he hadn’t shaved since the boys had last seen him.

            “I hope you’re right about this,” he said, by way of greeting.

            The detective eyed them and seeing their enthusiasm, simply held his palms up and said, “it’s your show.”

            The boys led them all into the Mammal Hall. Max saw them at once and hurried over.

            “What’s this all about?” he asked.

            “Did you get the list?” asked Jack.

            Max handed him the brochure. “None of the things you asked me about are listed anywhere,” he said. “Not even in the species guides. In fact, I’m pretty sure the mongoose and that rattlesnake don’t even live on the same continent.”

            “It’s a rattlesnake?” confirmed Quinn.

            “It looks like it,” said Max.

            Jack stepped off the path and started towards the stuffed snake.

            “Hold it!” said Meyers. “you can’t just do that.

            Jack looked at Deffenbaugh for permission. Deffenbaugh shook his head. “Do you want to explain what you’re doing. Or maybe we should go get some tarps?”

            “There’s the ruby-throated hummingbird,” said Ellie, pointing up to where a domesticated cat had it pinned to the ground.

            Jack returned to the path.

            “Souvlakis left those riddles, remember,” said Cable, “we’ve figured them out. There were animal names that matched the names of gems. And they’re here! They’re in the displays. That’s a diamond backed rattlesnake! Get it? A diamond backed rattlesnake. A Ruby throated hummingbird?”

            “And what? You think the gems are inside them?” asked Meyers.

            “There’s only one way to find out,” said Jack.

            Meyers looked concerned. He looked at all the people passing through the exhibit. Some were already looking at them, since Jack was standing with one foot in a tableau featuring a mule deer. He began to shake his head.

            “The snake isn’t even supposed to be here,” said Max. “It’s not a mammal and it’s not in the brochure.”

            “What’s it doing here, then?” asked Meyers.

            “That’s what we’re trying to find out,” said Jack.

            “Look!” said Cable, “there are snails – snail shells anyway – in the shrew nest.”

            Before Meyers could say anything, Cable reached over and picked up a yellow snail shell from the nest of twigs. He cracked it open like a nut. A yellow gemstone the size of a blueberry fell out in his hand. Meyer’s eyes went wide, as Cable held it up for him to see.

            “Convinced?” asked Cable.

            “I am,” said Deffenbaugh. He raised his arms and his voice and said, “Excuse me people, We’re going to be shutting down this exhibit for a few hours. If you’ll all just make your way to the exits. Thank you.” Deffenbaugh escorted the crowds out into the mail hall. It took no time at all.

            A couple Smithsonian security guards came over, but when they saw Meyers and Deffenbaugh, they nodded and went back to their posts.

            “May I?” asked Jack.

            He ducked under the mule deer and made his way to the snake. He picked it up and turned it over. A pattern of triangles repeated down its back. He looked at its face and in its mouth. Then he saw that there was a bump in its throat that looked like it had just eaten a mouse or an egg. He squeezed it. The snakeskin was solid.

            “Can I break it?” he asked.

            “Yes,” said Deffenbaugh, just as Meyers said, “I really don’t think that’s a good idea.”

            Jack snapped the head off the snake. The lump in the throat was a pink diamond.

            “We’re looking for frogs and bugs and birds,” said Quinn, “anything that’s not a mammal is suspect, right?”

            “And a golden monkey,” said Jack.

            “Everybody spread out,” said Deffenbaugh, “but don’t crack anything open. Let me take pictures, at least.” He looked up at the security camera nearest where they were standing, “J.J. are you recording all this?” he said to the camera.

            Meyers had pulled out his cell phone and was talking to Mr. Newman’s secretary. Jack and Cable and Quinn and Ellie and Max scoured the exhibit. They found dozens and dozens of little critters that were not on the placards. As Cable tried to pry the little blue bird from the mouth of the bobcat, he said, “there was no missing word, Jack.”

            “What?” asked Jack.

            “In that first riddle,” said Cable. “There was no missing word. The last two lines. It didn’t say ‘Keep an Eye on the Blank, Pray my friend this had a happy end.’ It said ‘Keep and eye on the prey, my friend. This has a happy end.’ Prey with an ‘e’ not pray with an ‘a.’”

            “The other one said something about pray also,” said Quinn. “What was it? The rest is safe though tucked away, In vulnerable but in visible prey.”

            “Otis was right,” said Jack, “Souvlakis didn’t even take them out of the building.”

            “Where is he?” said Quinn, “we should get him up here.”

           

            A few minutes later, Otis joined them in the Mammal Hall. He was overjoyed to discover what was happening. “I told you so,” he said, “I told you so. Atta’boy Tony.” He clapped his hands in delight. “I can’t wait to tell my wife.”

            The director of the Smithsonian arrived shortly thereafter. Though he’d been told on the phone what was happening, he still had to hold onto a wall for support when he saw the seven of them skipping around the brand new exhibit snapping off pieces of small stuffed animals as they went.

            An assistant brought Meyers a list of the missing gems. Cable and the detective piled up everything they’d found on a bench and began crossing the off one by one, as Meyers looked on. With each missing gem crossed off the list, Meyers face relaxed perceptibly. After an hour of searching, the only thing still missing was the Hope Diamond itself, the famous and infamous 45 carat blue diamond necklace in a platinum setting, surrounded by 16 smaller diamonds

            They searched high and low. In the middle of the afternoon, Quinn got a call from Chad.

“I’m the hero!” said Chad. “Emily told me I solved the final puzzle! Forget Robert Downey Jr, I want Johnny Depp, baby!”

The search went on and on. They cross referenced every animal in the exhibit with the brochures and the original schematics. Everything was accounted for, and still no Hope Diamond. Finally they concluded that it simply wasn’t there.

            “Do you think he kept this one for himself?” asked Quinn.

            “It’s impossible to sell,” said the director of the museum, “it’s one of a kind. No jeweler would touch it. In that sense it has no value at all.”

            “Don’t be so sure, said Deffenbaugh, “I can think of a dozen jewelers who would take it, right here in D.C.”

            “It’s true,” said Meyers, “what we know of as the Hope Diamond was once called the Tavernier Blue. It was more than twice the size it is now. It’s been cut before.”

            Cable shook his head, “It’s got to be here somewhere.”

            But no amount of searching could turn it up. Not that afternoon and not in the following weeks when every animal in the mammal hall was scanned with powerful x-rays. It was simply nowhere to be found.

           

The Lost Souvlakis Mystery: Chapter 28

Chapter 28

            Several weeks passed without incident. Sydney and Sean recovered from the shock of Mr. Glover’s initial phone call and, finding the crisis averted, admitted that they were looking for an excuse to jump ship and get home. Paul and Emily and Ellie made the long slow ocean crossing and returned to Fredericksburg as well. They found the front window repaired and everything in good order at the store.

            There was no word from Deffenbaugh and no news of stolen jewels ever made it onto the news, nor even onto the internet. The Bonney Boys resumed part time work in the store around their regular schedules, and made an outward effort to carry on business as usual. But in their spare time, they read and re-read the Souvlakis notes, hoping to penetrate their meaning.

“Since ewe won’t accept my terms, old ‘friends,’

I’ve changed the plans to meat my ends.

But wood eye leave you dry and high?

Ewe said In TEAM there is no I

Nor in LON nor TGER nor BEAR

I’ve left you what I think is fair.

If my black Owl finds this note

I’ll contact you in time

Till then in Berkeley is the truth

Laid bear and knot in rhyme.

Keep an eye on the

Prey my friend this has a happy end.”

            And the note that Souvlakis had sent directly to Otis.

Peel an I if eye go

When someone asks for me you’ll know

They’re the ones you’ll need to track

Don’t close the net or hold them back

I’ve got things set I’ve got a plan

See indigo and see our man

But if my plan should go awry

And my name is in disgrace

Don’t let me down - ten down each day

Says clearly what I cannot say.

You’re the only one who knows

There’s real Hope for Grace

And the rest is safe through tucked away

In vulnerable but in visible pray

            They boys read them so often that they had them memorized. Some of the lines seemed to relate directly to things they’d already discovered. In the first riddle, everything was accounted for except the last two lines.

            “Keep and eye on the blank,” muttered Cable, as he and Jack walked from the grocery store to the bookstore with a pocket full of hazelnut creamers. “Pray my friend this has a happy end.”

            “When we was talking about eyes and I’s earlier he meant literally in the eyes of the animals. Maybe he means in the ends of the animals,” suggested Jack.

            “The ends?” repeated Cable.

            “You know, their—“

            “Wait for me!” shouted Quinn, speeding down the street on his bike.

            “What is it?”

            “Chad just called the house,” he said.

            “And?”

            “And he says why do you guys bother to carry cell phones if you never answer them?” said Quinn.

            “Because I don’t care who’s going to play him in the movie version of his life,” muttered Cable, pulling his phone out of his pocket. The screen showed two messages, both from Chad.

            “Did you come out here to tell us that?” asked Jack.

            They were almost back at the bookstore. “No,” said Quinn, “I came out here because I just listened to a message that he left us a couple weeks ago. Have you heard it?”

            Jack shook his head. “I deleted everything. I’ve seen him, like, a dosen times since then, so I figured… you know…”

            “So did I. Until this morning. I thought it was a new message, so I listened to it,” said Quinn.

            Cable pushed the voice mail button on his phone and listened. The message Chad had left just moment ago played first.

            “Hey, it’s Chad. I want you guys to take a look at my statement for the police. I think I’ve got it right, I’m worried that it’s too much Raymond Chandler and not enough David Mamet. I want to be terse but not noir, and—“

            Cable skipped the rest of that one. The message from the day of all the excitement played next.

            “Hey, it’s Chad. I’m at the bookstore and I’ve been looking at these crossword puzzle books. There’s like a dozen of them, all filled in, with Souvlakis name in them. Have you seen these things? They’re all done in ink and at first I was like, holy cow this guy is good. But it’s all gobblety-gook. He hasn’t solved the puzzles, he’s just written in random letters. In every fracking puzzle! It’s got to mean something, right? Call me.”

            Cable’s jaw dropped.

            “What is it?” said Jack.

            “The line from the riddle he sent to Otis,” said Cable.

            “What?” said Jack again. “play it for me.”

            Cable handed Jack his phone and Jack cued up the message. When he’d listened, he handed the phone back to Cable.

            “Ten down each day,” quoted Cable, “says clearly what I cannot say.”

            “The crossword puzzle books!” said Jack, “Where are they?”

            “At the store,” said Quinn, “They didn’t seem like anything special. I don’t even know if we kept them.”

            The boys ran the rest of the way to the bookstore. Emily and Ellie were there.

            “Where are those crossword puzzle books?” shouted the boys in unison.

            “I tossed them,” said Emily, “they were all written in.”

            “All of them?” cried Quinn in despair.

            “I think so,” said Emily. “Except maybe there was one I didn’t. One of them wasn’t finished, so I kept it.”

            “That would by the most recent one,” exclaimed Jack, “where is it? Where is it?”

            Emily shrugged. “On my desk? At home? I don’t know.”

            “Ellie,” said Cable turning to his cousin, “have you seen it? This is important.”

            “The yellow crossword puzzle book?” she asked.

            “Yes.”

            “It’s downstairs on the shipping table.”

            The Bonney Boys dashed off down the steps that led to the basement. They found the crossword puzzle book there and brought it back upstairs.

            “They have crossword puzzles in the newspaper every day,” said Emily. “You guys are acting like they were just invented.”

            The boys didn’t respond. They flipped to the most recent puzzle that was finished. The whole thing was filled in, in ink, in Souvlakis handwriting. He’d written 10:30-10:42  and the date in the margin. They scanned the boxes.

            “Chad was right,” said Cable, “it’s just random letters. All of it.”

            “Check for ten down,” said Jack.

            Cable read the clue. “Broadway Baby, perhaps?”

            They scanned the puzzle for what Souvlakis has written as the answer.

            “ARCHILOCHUSCOLUBRIS,” read Jack.

            “That doesn’t mean anything,” said Cable.

            “Check another one,” said Quinn.
            They flipped back a couple pages. Another filled-in puzzle with the date and a narrow window of time written in.

            “The clue for ten down is ‘Jack Dempsey or Barack Obama,’” read Cable.

            “And he’s written CROTALUSATROX,” said Jack.

            “I can’t believe it,” said Quinn. “I was so hoping this was it!”

            Jack was already on another page, “RANAVENENOSA” he read. Then, “LEPIDOTHRIXIRIS,” then, “CERCOPITHECUSKANDTI.”

            He closed the book and tossed it onto the counter. “So much for that idea,” he said.

            “What are you doing?” asked Ellie. “Is this about the Smithsonian adventure?”

            Cable nodded. “We thought we’d figured out one of the last parts of the riddles.”

            “Are you still hoping to find the jewels?” she asked.

            “Of course,” said Jack. “Max said there’s still no sign of them. The whole renovation has been shut down, of course, since Franklin was arrested. So they’re still out there.”

            “You wouldn’t be able to keep them,” said Emily, “you know that, right?”

            “Why not?” asked Jack, “what happened to finder’s keepers?”

            “Good luck,” said Emily.

            Ellie walked over to the computer. “Read me one of those strings of letters,” she said. “doesn’t Google have an automatic word scrambler search?”

            Quinn picked up the book and flipped to the last of the filled-in puzzles. “ARCHILOCHUSCOLUBRIS,” he read.

            Ellie typed in the letters. When the search results popped up on the screen, she did a double take. “You guys are going to want to see this,” she said.

            Quinn leaned over and looked at the search results. “Ruby throated hummingbird,” he read. “What did you search for?”

            “I typed in the letters you read to me,” said Ellie, “that’s what came up. It’s the Latin name for Ruby-Throated Hummingbird.”

            “Ruby throated?!” exclaimed Cable, “Like ruby?”

            “Yeah,” said Ellie, “We have them around here.”

            “Like the gem, ruby?” continued Cable.

            Jack grabbed the crossword puzzle book and turned back a page. “Try this one,” he said, “CROTALUSATROX.”

            Quinn typed it in. The results popped up instantaneously.

            “Latin again,” he read, “Diamond Backed Rattlesnake.”

            Jack and Cable whooped and hollered, “this is it! We’ve found them!”

The Lost Souvlakis Mystery: Chapter 27

Chapter 27

            Franklin didn’t make a move. As the implications of the situation unfolded in his mind, his energies remained focused on Jack. Then, as though he’d been sculpted in ice in his most threatening pose, he began to melt. His fist drooped to the countertop and much of the weight of his upper body slumped onto it. The boys were careful not to make any sudden movements. A dead wasp can still sting. Even Deffenbaugh and Cat stood where they were for an overlong moment, ready for anything.

            It was the sound of the basement door opening and closing loudly and then heavy footsteps running across the basement room that began everyone’s blood flowing. The footsteps reached the stairs and bounded up, but then with a jarring thump they lost their footing on the topmost step. Then Chad Carter sprawled into view with his arms flailing. The baseball bat he’d been carrying clattered to the floor as he lurched towards a metal rack of paperbacks and tried to catch his balance. But when he grabbed it, the rack twisted away and his legs went out from under him. He ended up on his back, shielding his face from an avalanche of Nancy Drew mysteries. He fought them off and leapt to his feet, striking a kung fu pose and scowling with such intensity that Jack and Cable had to avert their eyes.

            Chad’s arrival distracted and unnerved Franklin to such an extent that when Detective Deffenbaugh approached him, he didn’t say a word.

            “Let’s go,” said the detective.

            “I want to talk to my lawyer,” said Franklin.

            “Yup,” said the detective. “I’m sure you will. That’s not my department.”

            Without handcuffing him and without crowding him, the detective led him out the door to an unmarked police car parked directly in front of the store. Deffenbaugh consulted with two police officers who were waiting for him there. Then, one of the police officers hopped into the front cab of the double-parked Franklin & Rogers box truck. He cranked the engine to life and drove off down Caroline Street. A moment later the other officer got in the unmarked car where Franklin was waiting and following the truck. Deffenbaugh came back into the store.

            “Piece of cake,” he said.

            “Not a piece of cake,” said Jack, “Oh my god, are you kidding?”

            “What’s the problem, you did great,” said Deffenbaugh. “we’ve got him, right?”

            “Could you hear anything that was said in here?” asked Jack, plopping himself down on the stool behind the desk.

            “Not a word,” said the detective. “You, Cat?”

            She shook her head. “Not over that construction noise. I’ve never seen that before. That was clever.”

            “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure,” said Chad, extending a hand towards Cat.

            “Special Agent Catherine Orange,” she said, shaking Chad’s hand.           

            “No kidding?” said Chad, “Agent Orange? That rocks.”

            “Yeah yeah yeah,” she said drily, “I hope they never promote me.”

            “Major Major Major Major,” said Chad, “right?”

            When she didn’t acknowledge the remark, he said, “Catch-22? Joseph Heller? No?”

            Cable asked the detective, “if you didn’t hear what was said in here, what do we do next?”

            The detective shrugged, “is there an all night diner in this town?”

            “No, I mean what happens with this? With us?” said Cable.

            “We’ve got this duffel bag,” said the detective. “We’ve got the recording, though I don’t know what the technicians will be able to salvage from that except the last few seconds. I suspect we’ll find all the books he stole from you at his warehouses. There’s the Souvlakis files. Meyers will testify that Franklin approached him with a bribe to release the jewels early. Like I said, that’s not my department. It seems like a strong case, though.”

            “And what about us?” asked Cable.

            “Do you know where Souvlakis is?” asked the detective.

            “Nope,” said Cable.

            “You’re out of it, then,” he said. “The Souvlakis books and papers will have to stay with us for a while, but when the case is over, we’ll probably release them to you. You might want to talk to your lawyer about pressing charges against Franklin yourselves, for this.” He waved at the front window.

            “And all the Smithsonian stuff?” asked Cable, “the file and the photos that Mr. Newman had this afternoon?”

            “I doubt he’ll want to press charges,” said the detective. “Not after he finds out how helpful you’ve been in serving up Franklin on a silver platter. If he does, I’ll come back and arrest you later. You planning on leaving the country?”

            The boys shook their heads.

            “Good. Don’t,” said the detective. His phone rang and he answered it quickly. He stepped out onto the sidewalk to talk and turned his back on the bookstore. Cat stepped outside as well.

            The boys looked around the store and at each other.

            “It doesn’t feel like we’re out of it,” said Cable.

            “I’m not feeling much of anything,” said Jack.

            “I was hoping there’d be a car chase,” said Quinn.

            “You all have read Catch-22, haven’t you?” asked Chad.

           

            When Detective Deffenbaugh came back inside, it was only to say goodnight.

            “I’ll be in touch, I’m sure,” he said. “If any of this stuff,” he pointed to the papers and things on the front counter, “really is from Souvlakis, we’ll need it for the investigation.”

            “It’s not,” said Quinn.

            “And I’d keep away from the Smithsonian for a while, if I were you,” added the detective. “Just to keep things neat and tidy for the time being. That’s not to say you might not end up with a Certificate of Appreciate some day, and a free lifetime pass.”

            “I thought it was free anyway,” said Quinn.

            “Yeah, I know,” said the detective. He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and removed  a blue and gold card from it. “It still feels nice to get one of these though.”

            He held up the card, with the Smithsonian logo on it, and his name printed in raised letters. Then he put it back in his wallet and took out a business card and laid it on a clear spot on the counter. “Anyway. Call me if you need anything. Try baking soda and Lysol on that purple stain, by the way.”

            He left with no further explanation or thanks. The boys stood staring out the gaping hole in the front of the store. It was after midnight. Their parents would be home later that day. They had to do something about the front window before they could go home that nght. And they were all of them tired.

           

            While Chad and Quinn were fitting the same piece of plywood over the opening, Jack and Cable cleaned off the counter and set things straight in the store.

            “How long before anyone asks us about the notes from Souvlakis that we’ve got?” asked Jack.

            “You’ve still got them? I thought we gave all that to Mr. Glover,” said Cable

            Jack shook his head. “No, I was looking at them before we met with Mr. Newman, remember, and I never put them back with the other stuff. I’ve got them right here.” He pulled the two blue pages out of his back pocket and tossed them on the cleared counter next to Deffenbaugh’s business card.

            “Who knows that they exist?” asked Cable, “and do you really think that they lead to the jewels?”

            “Otis knows about them,” said Jack, “but he probably assumes that Newman or Deffenbaugh have them by now. We mentioned them to Mr. Glover. I guess it just depends if anyone goes looking for them. There were a lot of papers in those boxes. Even if they start out looking for these, they might not ask us about them for a while.”

            Cable took a deep breath and then blew it out. He pulled his hair back out of his face and tucked it behind his ears.  “I knew it didn’t feel like it was over,” he said.

The Lost Souvlakis Mystery: Chapter 26

Chapter 26

            “I can’t hear you,” said Cable.

            “I said, let’s get down to business,” shouted Franklin.

            “What?” shouted Cable.

            Franklin led them toward the back of the store. He still had to raise his voice to be heard, but the construction noise wasn’t deafening.

            “What have you got for me?” asked Franklin.

            “What do you mean,” said Cable.

            Jack and Quinn stood close, in order to hear, but were content to let Cable speak for them, for now.

            Franklin spoke slowly. “What do you have for me?”

            “I heard you,” said Cable, speaking just as slowly, “but I don’t know what you mean.”

            If Franklin was frustrated at all, he did not show it. “You have plans or instructions or something that you got from his house,” he said. “I want them.”

            “From Souvlakis house?” said Cable.

            “Don’t play dumb,” said Franklin, “it doesn’t suit you. Vincent can get away with it. You, not so much.”

            “Alright,” said Cable, “yes, we’ve got more information. From Souvlakis and from other sources. But we want out of this.”

            “Now you’re talking,” said Franklin. “Brother, you should have heard the security intercom this afternoon. Here’s what I can do for you. Give me that stuff and I can tie up all your loose ends.”

            “Can you be more specific,” said Jack, trying to follow the detective’s instructions.

            “Yeah, as a matter of fact…” said Franklin. He stepped down the two steps separating the back of the store from the open front area. Near the desk, he picked up a duffel bag that Vincent had placed there. He unzipped it as he walked back to join the boys. “In here, I have personnel files in each of your names showing that you’ve been working for me since June. I’ve got pay stubs and ID cards and performance reports, just like I do for all my guys. I’ve also made up a series of letters from a guy I know on the inside requesting some repairs to the polar bear. Those are back-dated several weeks as well. Then there’s work orders and receipts and overtime requests. All the crap paperwork that they require of me.”           

            “So what?” said Cable.

            Franklin put the duffel on the ground in front of them. “Look. No lie. They know you sprung the trap on that bear. They’ve got security footage of you entering the hall clean and leaving dirty—“

            “What about inside the hall?” interjected Jack.

            “Ah-ha,” said Franklin, “funny you should mention that. That footage is also in this bag. It somehow got removed from the security hard-drive.”

            “But if they’ve got before and after video?”

            “That’d be just circumstantial,” said Franklin, “and secondly, who’s to say their computers won’t crash and erase the data? Stuff like that happens all the time around there. Either way, I’ve got a paper trail that shows you were there on F & R business. And we’ll be the ones to clean it up. We installed the thing, after all. Who else are they going to hire?”

            “There will still be legal fees,” said Cable.

            “You’re right,” said Franklin, “and since each of you has been receiving weekly paychecks from F & R, you shouldn’t have any trouble covering them. If it even goes that far. I think the checks are in the bag as well, also back-dated.”

            “So we give you our Souvlakis information and take this bag and we’re done?” said Cable.

            Franklin nodded.

            “What if we want more?” asked Jack.

            “What more could a person in your position want?” asked Franklin. “I think it’s a fair offer.”

            “Fair?” said Jack, “after smashing up our store and stealing the books?”

            Franklin was unruffled. “It was terrible what happened to your store. As I said, I’m glad to be in a position to help you out with that.”

            “And the books?”

            A woman’s voice broke through the construction noise, “Excuse me!”

            The four of them turned to see Cat standing in the front of the store, holding the door open with one hand.

            “Excuse me!” she repeated. “Which of you is Franklin?”

            The boys hearts beat fast. Could Deffenbaugh hear them over the noise, after all? Had they gotten enough out of Franklin already? Was this the big moment?

            “I am,” said Franklin, “what can I do for you ma’am?”

            “They said you were the foreman,” she said, “I live next door. It’s after eleven at night. Can you keep the noise down, please.”

            “We’re almost done here,” said Franklin, “I’m sorry for the disturbance. The front window was smashed the other day.”

            “But I can’t hear myself think,” said Cat. “Can’t it wait until tomorrow?”

            “I’m sorry ma’am,” said Franklin, “this is the only time we could do it. We’ve all got day jobs. It won’t be but another few minutes before we’re done here, isn’t that right fellas?” He turned to the Bonney Boys for confirmation.

            “You can’t hear yourself think?” asked Jack.

            Cat fixed him with an inscrutable stare. “Can’t hear anything. Do I have to call the police?” She raised an eyebrow.

            Jack looked at her. Had that been a signal? He waited for something else, but her face remained blank.

Franklin interjected, “that won’t be necessary ma’am. Give us ten more minutes and we’ll be done. It’d take that long for the police to get here anyway. Believe me, I understand what you’re saying. I didn’t realize there were apartments in these buildings. I thought they were all businesses.”

            She turned to him and seemed momentarily at a loss for words. Then she said. “that’s fine then. Thank you. But after fifteen minutes, I am calling the police.”

            “Understood,” said Franklin, “loud and clear.”

            Cat left and the boys were left once again with Franklin and his men.

            Franklin walked to the front of the store, pushed open the door, and said something to his guys on the street. Then he returned.

            “Let’s make this quick, fellas. If she’s calling the police in fifteen minutes, I want to be out of here in five.”

            The hammering and sawing continued. The plywood was down and a new window was leaning up against the front of the building. The men were framing the opening with two by fours. It was a long way from being finished.

            “What about the front window?” asked Jack.

            “That and a dollar will get you a cup of coffee,” said Franklin, beginning to show some signs of anger. “Cut the crap. Do you have something for me? Otherwise I say we let the police come. You’re the ones they’re looking for.”

            Jack’s cell phone rang. He moved to answer it, but a look from Franklin froze him.  A moment later Cable’s rang. Quinn reached into his pocket and turned his phone off.

            Franklin crossed the store again and picked up the duffel bag. “All this is about to disappear from the conversation,” he said. “If I don’t see some papers start to appear or some information emerge, the terms change.”

            The store phone rang.

            Jack started towards the phone.

            “Don’t even think about it,” said Franklin, “no one calls a bookstore at this hour and expects someone to answer the phone.”

            “I was just going over here to get the papers you wanted,” said Jack. “Quinn, where’d we put those papers, anyway?”

            Quinn went behind the counter with Jack. Franklin moved to where he could see them. Quinn turned on the computer. Jack grabbed a random pile of books from the stairs and set them on the counter. Meanwhile the phone call went to the answering machine. Jack and Quinn were close enough to hear the message as it was being left, even over the noise of the construction. It was Chad.

            When Cable heard Chad’s voice on the machine, he immediately started talking to Franklin. Jack and Quinn leaned in towards the answering machine, where the message was being recorded.

            “Hello, I’m looking for a couple books. Do you have something called ‘There’s something fishy going on’ by, um, Franklin. Or something called, I think, ‘I just called 911’ by Carter. Or, ‘I got your back,’ also by Carter? It’s just some stuff for my reading group. That’s all. Just, um, call me when you get this. My number is—“

            The machine cut him off again. Jack glanced up at Franklin to see if he had listened to the message, but Cable was still talking to him. Jack went over to the computer and disconnected the external hard drive that stored all the internet sales records. He put on the counter next to the books. That caught Franklin’s attention. Then Jack reached under the counter to the recycling bin and grabbed a handful of papers. He set that on the counter as well.

            Quinn, who had been fiddling with the computer all this time, turned the monitor to face Franklin, opened the Natural History museum website and surreptitiously started recording with the built in camera.

            “We don’t want any police involved,” said Jack, either acting panicked or showing real panic. “Here’s what we took form Souvlakis. Hard drive from his desk, with museum schematics, and blueprints for hidden compartments, along with his correspondence with you about your business relationship with him. Also Souvlakis journal that records everything he knew about your plan to steal the jewels.”

            Franklin’s eyes went wide.

            “These are hard copies of some it,” continued Jack, rifling the papers he’d pulled from the recycling.

            “And the codebooks,” said Cable, pointing to the random novels that Jack had put on the counter.

            “And a broken squirrel,” said Quinn, picking up the bottom half of Berkeley from the shelf behind the counter.

            When Franklin saw the squirrel, his demeanor changed completely. He lost the little composure he had maintained after Cat’s visit. He snatched at the squirrel, but Quinn held it out of his reach.

            “We want your duffel bag,” said Jack, “We want our window fixed. And we want one million dollars. The police might be looking for us right now, but we’ve got all this stuff that points to you.”

            “I think it’s a fair offer,” said Cable, picking up the duffel bag from where Franklin had dropped it when he snatched for the broken squirrel.

            Franklin leaned forward on the counter and glared at Jack. He raised a fist, and then pointed a finger directly at him.

            “Listen to me,” he said, “I have worked too long and too hard to let a couple of penny-ante junk dealers like you get in my way.”

            Outside the store, a police siren made a single whelp, and the construction noise stopped. Out of the corner of his eye, Quinn could see the workmen turn away from the store to face something out of sight. But Franklin had his back to all that, and didn’t seem to notice that the noise had stopped. With a finger ferociously poking the air between him and Jack, he continued, “It’s been a year and a half of my life infiltrating that corrupt, rat infested, stink-hole. And I am this close to pulling off the heist of the decade. If you think you can blackmail me with a pile of junk mail and the fracking book of the month club, you’ve got another thing coming. We’ll tear down this store one brick at a time and so fast you won’t even know what hit you. Then we’ll go after your girlfriends and your pets and everyone in your speed dial. If you don’t—“

            He stopped suddenly, finally noticing that the noise had stopped. He turned and looked towards where his men had been only to find them gone, out of sight down the sidewalk.

            Detective Deffenbaugh stood in the open window, and Cat stood at the front door.

            “Time’s up,” she said, holding up her badge.