Falcon came from the direction of the kitchen, grinning wildly. “You really got it?”
After putting on the cotton gloves I’d stashed in my pocket, I slipped the pack off my back and opened it, setting the crown on a nearby table under a bright lamp. But as soon as I took a closer look, I saw something strange.
I leaned in closer and reached out to touch it carefully.
“Falcon, this is a forgery.” My heart was in my throat. Could it be?
How the hell had Elek had time and resources to make a forgery this good? And where the hell was the real crown? My heart sank into my stomach.
I’d failed them all. I’d underestimated Elek, and now we were back to square one.
Falcon stood close to me, our shoulders brushing. He leaned in to take a close look.
My hands shook as I pointed to the corona graeca. “Do you see these enamel plaques? They were created using techniques you can’t replicate easily today. The scratches and lustre… I just… I know this is a forgery. See how the pearls all have a similar tone? The original is more varied in size and tone. It’s practically impossible to forge something with so many different artistic elements.” I looked at him. “This isn’t the Holy Crown of Hungary, Dirk.”
He looked hesitant, and I wondered if he believed me.
“Falcon…” I began. There were more details I could give him, about the nuanced visual effects of the enamel, the lack of aging in the cracks and crevices. About how I’d seen the replica crown in the Carter Presidential Library in Atlanta and knew the difference between a thousand-year-old original and a modern-day forgery. I could see this one was better than the one in the Carter Library, and it might fool plenty of appraisers, but not someone whose bread and butter had once been the study of perfecting forgeries. But before I could say any of that, Mouse came out of the hallway with a bag over his shoulder.
“We ready to go? Oh shit, is that it?”
He pushed between us, but I kept eye contact with Falcon over Mouse’s head. Something was going on. Either Falcon knew the truth and wasn’t telling me, or someone at the FBI was lying to him.
But why?
“Let’s go,” Falcon said. “We can talk in the car.”
He was right. We needed to be gone before Elek figured out his precious crown was missing. I bundled it back up in the bag and slung it on my back before following the two of them out to the car. Just as we pulled down the driveway, a sleek Mercedes sedan turned in.
Mouse sucked in a breath. “That’s Elek’s car. He must have forgotten something.”
Falcon muttered under his breath, “He didn’t forget anything. He knows.”
“Go around him,” I said, ducking down. “And then speed like hell so we’re out of sight before he has a chance to turn around.”
“Got it.”
He slowed down and rolled down his window as if he was going to stop and ask Elek what he needed. But as soon as Elek slowed to a stop beside us, Falcon floored it, shooting out into the road with a screech of tires.
But Falcon did exactly as I suggested, hauling ass down the deserted road and swinging a hard right onto the main cross street toward the small airport. It was late enough for the roads to be deserted, so he was able to keep up a high rate of speed through the town, turning here and there as Mouse came up with some quick-thinking navigation to keep from being predictable. When we finally came screaming into the airport lot, we were ready to make a run for the plane.
I grabbed Falcon’s arm before he reached the airplane stairs. Mouse jogged up ahead of us into the plane.
“Wait. We need to stay here and look for the original. Maybe he still has it, or… shit, did Hungary replace the original with a forgery? Did Elek steal a forgery thinking it was the original?” I loved that idea. That would make my fucking day.
Falcon searched my eyes, clearly torn between doing his job and doing what was right.
I begged him. “Falcon, you know more than you’re saying. What the hell is going on?”
“King, just get on the plane. Elek has to know where we were headed, and I’d prefer to lift off before he come screeching in here.”
“But—”
“Let’s talk about it when we get in the air,” he said, putting his hand on my lower back, under the backpack. “Come on.” He nudged me up the stairs while I thought about how to convince him I was right.
But it didn’t matter. Because sitting in the closest seats to the front were two overly large meatheads I didn’t recognize. I froze midstep, causing Falcon to bump into the back of me, pressing the hard crown into my back through the thin sack it was in.