In Plain Sight

“Correct,” Iggy confirmed. “Also, whoever is infected first will be someone who will circulate, giving them the best chance to spread the disease — so make it a waiter or a hostess.”

“Or security,” Sorsha said. “For an event like this, there’ll be over a dozen agents. It sounds like the best chance of catching our assassin is when he tries to bring the disease inside.” She pulled her notebook out of the air and flipped it open.

“It would be in a flask or vial, sealed with lead,” Iggy said. “Not very big, just an ounce or two. He’d have to sprinkle it somewhere the first victim would come in contact with it.”

“Like on a towel or in a drink?” Sorsha said.

“Anywhere would do,” Iggy said. “Even a doorknob.”

Sorsha jotted down Iggy’s words. “Good,” she said when she finished. “This should help us secure the conference.”

“If the conference is even a target,” Alex said. Sorsha shrugged.

“You could be right; this might have nothing to do with politics, but I’d rather be safe than sorry.”

At that moment, Agent Davis returned and motioned Sorsha over to the door.

“Thank you, Doctor Bell,” she said, shaking hands with Iggy, then she gave Alex a frosty look and left.

“I see why you like her,” Iggy said, watching the retreating figure of the Sorceress in her form-fitting dress.

“I don’t like her,” Alex said, watching too. Iggy grinned, and his mustache rose up to meet his nose.

“Sure you don’t.” Then his face turned serious. “Alex,” he said, his voice dropping. “You’ve got to find out who’s behind this. Whatever they’re after, they aren’t going to stop with the Brotherhood of Hope Mission. More people are going to die.”

“I know,” Alex said. “If I could just get a line on Charles Beaumont, maybe I could trace him back to where he got infected.” Alex recounted to Iggy his efforts to track the elusive burglar. While he spoke, Iggy stroked his mustache, deep in thought.

“So,” Iggy said once Alex finished. “If Beaumont was this Spook fellow, he’s not just any burglar.”

“Not by a long shot,” Alex agreed. “He knew exactly what to take; highly valuable, small and light.”

“Yes, but he didn’t take the kinds of things that would be easy to fence,” Iggy said. “You said he took a set of silverware that was once owned by Napoleon, and a painting by Renoir?”

Alex nodded; he’d been through the list of stolen property so many times he knew it by heart.

“What are you getting at, old man?” Alex asked when Iggy didn’t immediately respond.

“You can’t just sell a Renoir after you steal it,” Iggy said. “It’s too well known. The only reason to take it is if you’re sure you can move it.”

“You think Beaumont had a buyer already lined up for the painting? Alex said.

“Not just for the painting,” Iggy said. “I’d bet my mustache that he had buyers ready and waiting for everything he stole.”

“Sounds reasonable,” Alex said. “But how does this help us?”

“A thief, even a high end thief, usually doesn’t travel in the kinds of circles where you meet collectors of stolen paintings and hot wine.”

“No one likes hot wine,” Alex said with a grin. “Least of all a collector.”

“My point,” Iggy said, ignoring Alex’s attempt at humor, “is that rich people aren’t likely to know a burglar, so how do they hire one when they want something stolen?”

Alex smiled as the light went on. “They know someone who knows Beaumont,” he said. “A neutral third party who serves as the intermediary for larcenous socialites who want to hire a burglar.”

“Exactly,” Iggy said. “There can’t be many people in the city capable of doing that kind of work. It’d have to be someone with serious criminal connections who’s also a socialite.”

Alex thought about Arthur Wilks and his network of fences, but that wasn’t quite right. Whoever Beaumont’s fixer was, he was a member of high society, and Alex couldn’t imagine anyone on Wilks’ list fitting that bill. Besides, there was no way Wilks was going to share any names with a private detective.

Thinking about Wilks reminded Alex of the reason he’d gone to see the insurance agent in the first place. He had half a day left before the weekend, so he needed to find Jerry Pemberton’s murderer fast. Still, if Wilks and his network couldn’t track down the missing stones, what chance did he have? Whoever had them didn’t seem to be in a hurry to sell them, after all.

Or maybe they already had.

What if Pemberton had a buyer already, just like the Spook? Someone who wanted the stones ahead of time and approached Pemberton. Pemberton hires the thief and they do the job.

No, that wouldn’t work.

Even with Pemberton’s map, the thief would have to get in and out undetected. No mean feat. So it must have been the thief who approached Pemberton. But, how did the thief line up his buyer? He must have used an intermediary, too.