I’ve gotten used to telling people what I think.”
Mercifully, David emerged from the kitchen managing to look both excited and grim. “Where did you get these stones?” he asked.
Rebecca shook her head. “Can’t say.”
“Are they one of your peculiar investments?”
Leaving the question unanswered, Rebecca gave Sofi a look. She’d just met David, which meant Sofi must have told the jeweler something about her. Of course, David could have read about her in any number of gossip rags over the years, including The Score.
David cleared his throat and became businesslike. “You’ll need more corroboration than just my say-so, butthere’s no question in my mind that what I’ve examined are the famed Jupiter Stones.”
Rebecca suddenly felt light-headed. “Which are?”
“Ten corundum gems—nine sapphires and a ruby—commissioned by Emperor Franz Josef of Austria-Hungary for his wife, the Empress Elisabeth. She was unstable and quite an eccentric, and apparently she gave the stones away or lost them, probably in the mid-1890s. There’s extensive documentation of each stone, so there should be no trouble verifying if these are the ones. But I should warn you that no one’ll be satisfied without some explanation of how you came by them. They haven’t been seen since Empress Elisabeth’s day. The last time anyone even heard a rumor about them was in the late fifties when a Hungarian baroness claimed they’d been stolen from her by a jewel thief prowling the Riviera at the time. He was never apprehended—supposedly he was a French race-car driver who disappeared before the police could arrest him. The baroness committed suicide, and no one seriously believed she ever had the real Jupiter Stones.”
Sofi was impressed. “How do you know all this stuff?”
David shrugged off the compliment. “Any gemologist worth his salt knows about the Jupiter Stones. The Red Moon of Mars and the Star of Jupiter—the ruby and the Kashmir sapphire—alone are famous stones, but the entire collection…Well, now I can verify that it’s fantastic.”
“You don’t think you’ve made a mistake?” Rebecca asked.
“It’s possible, but no, I don’t think so. In addition to the stones matching the descriptions of the Jupiter Stones, the velvet bag they’re in is embossed with the Hapsburg imperial seal.”
“Are they valuable?”
David, ever the jeweler, smiled. “Name your price.”
Twelve
H is plane’s descent took Jared directly over Boston proper, glittering in the clear evening air. The city of his childhood had changed. In the new skyline, he spotted the distinctive outline of the Wesley Sloan–designed Winston & Reed Building on the waterfront. He wondered if Quentin was working late, and if his aunt was there, pretending she didn’t run the place when everyone knew she did.
The landing was smooth, but the inactivity of the long cross-country flight had gotten to Jared, and he couldn’t wait to be out in the city and moving. All he’d done for the past seven hours was think about Mai, about Saigon and the man from Saigon and the Winstons—and about the Blackburns. Why did Rebecca have to be in Boston? He’d considered staying away because of her. But he couldn’t. He had to see Thomas Blackburn; he had to get answers to the questions he’d left hanging for fourteen years.
He couldn’t take any chances. The white-haired man had come to San Francisco. Obviously he had seen Mai’s picture in The Score. Now he had seen her.
Jared took a cab to the Massachusetts State House andwalked the rest of the way to West Cedar Street. Whatever else might have changed in Boston in the past fourteen years, he supposed Beacon Hill would be pretty much the same.
And he knew Thomas Blackburn would be.
After the long flight, the exercise and the cool night air felt good. Jared took the familiar shortcuts to West Cedar Street, not even tempted to go by the house on Chestnut where he had lived with his mother
Mercifully, David emerged from the kitchen managing to look both excited and grim. “Where did you get these stones?” he asked.
Rebecca shook her head. “Can’t say.”
“Are they one of your peculiar investments?”
Leaving the question unanswered, Rebecca gave Sofi a look. She’d just met David, which meant Sofi must have told the jeweler something about her. Of course, David could have read about her in any number of gossip rags over the years, including The Score.
David cleared his throat and became businesslike. “You’ll need more corroboration than just my say-so, butthere’s no question in my mind that what I’ve examined are the famed Jupiter Stones.”
Rebecca suddenly felt light-headed. “Which are?”
“Ten corundum gems—nine sapphires and a ruby—commissioned by Emperor Franz Josef of Austria-Hungary for his wife, the Empress Elisabeth. She was unstable and quite an eccentric, and apparently she gave the stones away or lost them, probably in the mid-1890s. There’s extensive documentation of each stone, so there should be no trouble verifying if these are the ones. But I should warn you that no one’ll be satisfied without some explanation of how you came by them. They haven’t been seen since Empress Elisabeth’s day. The last time anyone even heard a rumor about them was in the late fifties when a Hungarian baroness claimed they’d been stolen from her by a jewel thief prowling the Riviera at the time. He was never apprehended—supposedly he was a French race-car driver who disappeared before the police could arrest him. The baroness committed suicide, and no one seriously believed she ever had the real Jupiter Stones.”
Sofi was impressed. “How do you know all this stuff?”
David shrugged off the compliment. “Any gemologist worth his salt knows about the Jupiter Stones. The Red Moon of Mars and the Star of Jupiter—the ruby and the Kashmir sapphire—alone are famous stones, but the entire collection…Well, now I can verify that it’s fantastic.”
“You don’t think you’ve made a mistake?” Rebecca asked.
“It’s possible, but no, I don’t think so. In addition to the stones matching the descriptions of the Jupiter Stones, the velvet bag they’re in is embossed with the Hapsburg imperial seal.”
“Are they valuable?”
David, ever the jeweler, smiled. “Name your price.”
Twelve
H is plane’s descent took Jared directly over Boston proper, glittering in the clear evening air. The city of his childhood had changed. In the new skyline, he spotted the distinctive outline of the Wesley Sloan–designed Winston & Reed Building on the waterfront. He wondered if Quentin was working late, and if his aunt was there, pretending she didn’t run the place when everyone knew she did.
The landing was smooth, but the inactivity of the long cross-country flight had gotten to Jared, and he couldn’t wait to be out in the city and moving. All he’d done for the past seven hours was think about Mai, about Saigon and the man from Saigon and the Winstons—and about the Blackburns. Why did Rebecca have to be in Boston? He’d considered staying away because of her. But he couldn’t. He had to see Thomas Blackburn; he had to get answers to the questions he’d left hanging for fourteen years.
He couldn’t take any chances. The white-haired man had come to San Francisco. Obviously he had seen Mai’s picture in The Score. Now he had seen her.
Jared took a cab to the Massachusetts State House andwalked the rest of the way to West Cedar Street. Whatever else might have changed in Boston in the past fourteen years, he supposed Beacon Hill would be pretty much the same.
And he knew Thomas Blackburn would be.
After the long flight, the exercise and the cool night air felt good. Jared took the familiar shortcuts to West Cedar Street, not even tempted to go by the house on Chestnut where he had lived with his mother
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