Still, two of Robert’s sisters, Triona and Caitlyn, had married into the MacLean family and, through the years, he’d caught bits of conversations that indicated that the curse existed. But that was foolishness. He was a practical man, one who dealt with facts and not far-fetched nonsense like curses and magical amulets. All he knew was this: there was a family heirloom that, through the ages, had gotten lost. Records proved that it had ended up in the possession of Queen Elizabeth, who had given it to a foreign emissary for reasons unknown, though some suggested she’d grown fearful of it. After that, the amulet had disappeared.

Robert reached under the seat and pulled out his portmanteau. From a secret pocket on the side he removed first a small vial—a potion his sister-in-law had given him before he’d begun the mad chase after Moira, saying it would render the user unconscious, which he thought might be useful. He then removed a black velvet bag.

He replaced the vial in the secret pocket and opened the bag. Inside lay two onyx boxes, their odd engravings gleaming in the gray light. He spread the velvet across his lap and, flipping a few unseen latches, undid the boxes so that they lay completely flat. He placed them upon the velvet and turned them so that the inside surfaces were face up. Then, with a twist, he slid the two panels and clicked them together. They fit perfectly. He tilted the smooth surface so that the light found the etchings, which produced a map. Michael believed that the map would lead them not only to the lost Hurst Amulet, but to other treasures as well.

The map was why a sulfi had held Michael prisoner, demanding the return of the box he’d legitimately purchased. “It’s also why George Aniston wants these,” Robert murmured as he studied the map. It was the only reason Aniston would be persistent in trying to obtain them all; he had to know.

Did Moira know about the map? Robert traced a wriggling line that was perhaps a river. He doubted Aniston would share such information; if the man had any sense, he’d be cautious around a woman of Moira’s resourcefulness. She was much stronger and more devious than Aniston and, if cornered, would fight like a she-wolf.

Robert tilted the metal surface to a better angle, catching the gray light streaming from the window, noting that a mountain range appeared to take up almost half of the map. What country could this be? It certainly wasn’t Egypt; they had very few mountains there. Italy? Greece? Switzerland?

The final panel held the key. He sighed and refolded the boxes, then slid them back into the velvet sack and into his portmanteau. As soon as he had the final box, he’d sprint back to London. Hopefully William would have secured Michael’s freedom, and they’d all examine the map together. Michael’s knowledge of ancient maps should enable him to decipher the markings.