of his chest—Stop that. No, he was not granite. Granite was common, and there was nothing common about Harland.
What about amber? The name came from the Greek word elektron, because it held a static charge. Father had shown her the trick of rubbing an amber bead against her hair and then using the charged stone to pick up a torn-off scrap of tissue paper, as if by magic. Alex Harland exerted the same invisible pull on her. She felt that static shock, that quick snap of awareness when their eyes met, when his body brushed hers. She shivered.
At the next rock she paused, read the description, and quelled the desire to giggle like a lunatic. Oh, that was perfect! She withdrew the official museum card and replaced it with her own. What she wouldn’t give to be a fly on the wall when Harland saw what she’d done.
Luc would be furious at her for taunting their nemesis in such a manner, but if one couldn’t have a bit of fun in life, what was the point?
Brutus followed her as she relocked the cabinet, slipped back down the stairs, replaced the key in Franks’s office, and straightened the lid of the sarcophagus.
It was always far simpler to leave a building than to enter one. With one last pat for Brutus, Emmy used a statue of Cupid and Psyche embracing to reach the clasp of a window and pulled herself up and through, dropping the few feet into the back alley that led to Montagu Place.
Luc had positioned the cart across the entrance of the alleyway to prevent anyone else coming in. He gave her a cheeky grin from underneath his hat as she climbed up onto the seat beside him and donned a flat cap of her own. “All done?” he asked casually.
Emmy slouched back into the seat, suddenly overcome with exhaustion. She always felt drained after the excitement of the heist left her.
“All done. Let’s go home.”
Chapter 11.
Alex frowned. It had taken Franks almost an entire day to discover the loss of the diamond. He’d been so engrossed in studying some new Egyptian sarcophagus that he hadn’t noticed it missing on his morning tour of the museum. Alex quelled a spurt of irritation as he and Seb listened to the man’s bumbling attempts to understand what had happened.
“Indeed, it was only at around four o’clock that a gentleman pointed out that it was missing and asked whether it was being cleaned.” Franks wrung his hands in obvious agitation. “I sent to inform you directly, Lord Melton.”
Alex nodded. “Thank you. But what happened to your guard dog? You assured me he was a veritable Cerberus.” He glared down at the animal in question, who was trotting amiably beside them. Brutus whimpered, as if he recognized the accusatory tone. He tucked his tail between his legs and dipped his muzzle in a perfect canine grovel.
Franks’s neck turned pink. “Ah, well, it seems the thief discovered Brutus’s fatal weakness. The clever devil bribed him with steak.”
Seb rolled his eyes. “Whoever would have thought of that?”
“Et tu, Brute?” Alex chided the dog, but neither of his companions appreciated the Shakespeare reference.
“There’s more, my lord.” Franks cleared his throat as they neared the minerals gallery. “It seems the crook has taken a personal interest in you.”
“In what way?”
They stopped in front of the cabinet. The glass was still intact. There was no evidence of forced entry, but the diamond was notably absent. A lone black feather lay in its place. Franks pointed to a folded ridge of card, propped up next to another specimen nearby.
“The thief not only took the diamond, they also replaced that particular label.”
Alex bent to read the note and his brows rose in affronted disbelief.
Specimen: Meltonium Harlandii. Locale: London and its environs. Defining characteristics: Inert. Dull in appearance. Particularly dense. No practical uses. Almost worthless.
“What kind of rock is that?” Alex asked very softly.
“A meteorite,” Franks supplied. “It is, in all probability, the oldest thing on this entire planet.”
Behind him, Alex heard Seb snort, then give up any pretense of trying to quash his laughter. “Oh, that’s priceless! Alex Harland: old and thick and not of this world!”
Alex reminded himself that Seb was one of his best friends. It would be bad form to knock his bloody teeth out. He glared at the handwritten note. It was not the same hand that had written the Nightjar’s previous message about the sugar. It was equally neat and educated, but more sloping. Slightly—dare