The Final Cut (A Brit in the FBI 1)

She sat at the table and stared at the beautiful plate of food in front of her—café crème, yogurt, croissants with strawberry preserves, and a big fat brioche.

He said, “Best of all, here’s coffee. You’ll need your strength. Our debriefing is in half an hour.”

She asked, “How are your hands?”

“I’ll do.” They fell into comfortable silence as they ate their breakfast.

Mike wiped the crumbs off the front of her shirt, glanced at her watch. “Okay, it’s time to fill them in on our adventures last night.” She opened her laptop and tapped into the CIVITS secure videoconference feed. The twentieth-floor conference room appeared on the screen. Zachery, Ben, Gray, Savich, and Sherlock were sitting around the table.

She waved a croissant at them. “Bonjour.”

Light laughter, then Zachery said, “It’s already all over the news, all over the world, and viral on the Internet. The Koh-i-Noor saved, but no details. Probably one of Menard’s men saw you with it but didn’t know how you’d gotten it. After we get things clear, we’ll hold a press conference here.

“I’m very glad to see both of you alive. Is the warehouse fire out yet?”

Nicholas answered, “At last count, there were two hundred firefighters and forty-five engines on scene, and the thing’s still burning. Mulvaney knew his business. All the surrounding warehouses went up in flames, too. The fire spread nearly half a mile through the area. They had to evacuate all the home.”

Mike said, “Not to mention every ounce of evidence was destroyed and all the priceless artwork stored there. It will be a week before the hot spots die down enough for a forensic examination to begin.”

“Any bodies recovered?” Ben asked.

“Four guards who were near the doors, firing at Menard’s men, and one guard from the second floor.”

Zachery asked, “The Ghost? The Fox?”

Nicholas shook his head. “The last time I saw Kitsune—the Fox—she’d knocked Mulvaney out. He was facedown and unconscious near the doorway where the fire was coming in fast.” He paused for a moment, and added in an emotionless voice, “She was bleeding heavily. She gave me the Koh-i-Noor, then walked back into the flames.” He didn’t mention the gunshot because he didn’t know if Kitsune had used it to kill Mulvaney or herself. He didn’t want to know.

“How’s Lanighan?” Savich asked.

Mike said, “He’s in a secure unit at Hôpital Saint-Antoine. Menard told us he’s retreated into his own mind, chanting sutras. He won’t answer to his name, won’t recognize anyone around him. The doctors don’t know if or when he’ll ever recover.

“All of you now know what Lanighan wanted to do—merge the three stones and heal himself. Become immortal.” She nodded to Nicholas.

He said, “I can’t describe what I saw last night as well as I’d like, but here goes. I saw Lanighan standing in the corner of the big second-floor room, his face lit up, his arms outstretched toward the ceiling, and he was cupping a huge bloody stone in his hands. He looked, well, maybe like he saw something no one else had ever seen before, he looked like he’d been blessed—I know that sounds strange. Really sorry, but nothing more than that.” He paused for a moment, then added, “You remember Lanighan had leukemia as a teenager and went into remission. Recently the leukemia returned. And I, well, I asked the emergency-room doctors to test his blood.” He paused a moment. “His blood work came back entirely normal.”

There was silence, then Savich said, “Are you saying the legend had truth at its core? That reuniting the three parts of the diamond cured him?”

“All I’m saying is he no longer has cancer. Perfect health, at least physically. I can’t tell you more because I don’t know any more.”

Everyone was quiet. Sherlock finally broke the silence. “You said the Fox gave you the Koh-i-Noor. Is it damaged in any way?”

Nicholas said, “Both Mike and I have examined it thoroughly and we can’t see anything wrong with it. It’s in the safe here in the room. I suppose the insurance indemnity folks would like it returned to the Met so it can be replaced in the crown.”

Zachery said, “You bet. Last time I saw the director he was rubbing his hands together, saying he now expects the Jewel of the Lion exhibit will draw twice as many people as they’d planned; it’ll be the event of the century. Hey, it’ll probably be the start of a new legend. Once he hears the details, he’ll probably give you guys a lifetime membership to the Met.”

Nicholas said, “I’m glad someone will benefit from all this—” He waved his hand. This what? he wondered. Waste? Tragedy? He supposed some good had come out of this, but frankly all he could think about was the needless loss—Elaine dead, Kitsune killed in the fire.

Savich said, “Not only will the Met burst its seams with visitors to the exhibit, but Bo still has the contract. The Met has asked him to double the security.”

Sherlock said, “Yep, Bo’s a happy camper.”

Zachery asked them to run through the previous night’s events, then once more, with a dozen questions thrown in. He finished with, “Job well done, people, and thanks, Drummond, for your minor assistance to the FBI.” And he laughed.

Savich said, “Nick, would you mind sticking around for a moment? I’d like to talk to you alone.” The conference room emptied around him.

Nicholas said, “Sure, Savich.” He glanced at Mike.

She said, “I’m outta here; a nice hot shower calls my name.”