“I know you are a decent man. I don’t see how they could track me here. Thank you for allowing me to use your credit card.”

That had been her idea. This was a woman who thought things through. This was a woman who lived in a world where she had to think things through. Heinrich wondered about these international antiquities thieves. If they had killed so gruesomely, so publicly, they were obviously telling the world to get off their turf.

Reluctantly, he left Thalia at the hotel. He could tell that he was standing at the brink of an interesting case and he didn’t like walking off just as things were getting started.

But it wasn’t his business. Thalia had the Greek government at her back, and probably Interpol and now the NYPD. She didn’t need any more help.

Heinrich drove across town to his little apartment in Manhattan, popped open a beer, and had just sat down when the phone rang.

CHAPTER THREE

 

“Hello, is this Heinrich Muller?” asked the suave voice on the other end of the line.

“Speaking.”

“I am Charles Montaine of the Executive International Security Corporation.”

“How can I help you, Mr. Montaine?” Heinrich had heard of this outfit. Everyone in the business had. They ran the biggest international detective agency in the Western world.

“We’re on the Lukas Christodolou case. Can you come in tomorrow morning at nine o’clock? We could use your help.”

Heinrich showed up as requested. The case, and the woman, had sparked his interest. He didn’t like seeing some innocent old academic get killed before his eyes, and he had a feeling that the woman would be next. Besides, going there would probably mean he’d get to see her again.

He was right. When he arrived at the offices of Executive International Security Corporation, which took up the entire twenty-fifth floor of a glittering Lower Manhattan high rise, he found her in the waiting room.

Calling it a “waiting room” was like calling The Four Seasons a cafeteria. It looked more like the lounge of a five-star hotel in Paris—elegantly tooled leather seats, crystal chandelier, orchids on the table, a hot secretary serving tea in fine china, and he swore that was a real Matisse hanging on the wall. The room was so well designed, he almost couldn’t spot the security cameras.

Thalia rose to meet him.

“How are you holding up?” he asked.

“Fine, thank you. Still a bit shaken. Professor Christodolou was a good man.”

“If you need some more nights in that hotel, I don’t mind putting it on my card.”

“I’m heading to Greece soon. I’m hoping you will be too.”

Heinrich cocked an eyebrow. “Apparently you’ve already spoken with Mr. Montaine.”

Thalia nodded. “We retained their services just a couple of days ago.”

“They don’t seem to have done a very good job,” Heinrich said, raising his voice a little so the microphone that he felt sure was hidden somewhere in the room would pick up his words.

“They’re following several good leads. It was they who found evidence that some of the artifacts would be sold at the collectors fair. They didn’t suspect that the gang would give such a bloody warning, though.”

“They should have,” Heinrich said, suddenly angry. “That’s why I’ve always been independent. Big organizations like this always fall into bureaucracy.