“Open the safe,” Bradshaw said and Bruce complied. When he opened its door, he pointed to the top shelves and said, “These are all very rare. Do you want to see them?”

“Maybe later,” Bradshaw said. “Let’s start with those four drawers.” He knew precisely what he wanted.

Bruce pulled out the first one. It contained two cedar boxes, just as Mercer had reported. He lifted one, placed it on the table, and opened the top. “This is the original manuscript of Darker Than Amber, published by John D. MacDonald in 1966. I bought this about ten years ago and I have the invoice to prove it.”

Bradshaw and Vanno hovered over the manuscript. “Mind if we touch it?” Vanno asked. Both were experienced and knew what they were doing.

“Be my guest.”

The manuscript was typed and the pages were in good condition with almost no fading. They flipped through it and soon lost interest. “And the other?” Bradshaw asked.

Bruce removed the second cedar box, placed it beside the first, and lifted the top. “This is another MacDonald manuscript, The Lonely Silver Rain, published in 1985. Got an invoice for this one too.”

It, too, was neat and typewritten, with notes in the margins. To help matters, Bruce added, “MacDonald lived on a boat with little electricity. He used an old manual Underwood typewriter and was meticulous about his work. His manuscripts are incredibly neat.”

They really didn’t care but turned a few pages anyway.

For a bit of fun, Bruce said, “I’m not sure, but didn’t Fitzgerald handwrite his original manuscripts?” There was no reply.

Bradshaw turned back to the safe and said, “The second drawer.”

Bruce pulled it out as the two inched closer, straining for a look. It was empty. Same for the third and fourth. Bradshaw was stunned and shot a wild look at Vanno, who was gawking at the empty drawers in utter disbelief.

Reeling, Bradshaw said, “Empty the contents of the safe.”

Bruce said, “No problem, but it’s obvious, at least to me, that someone has fed you guys some bad information. I don’t trade in stolen stuff and I wouldn’t go near the Fitzgerald manuscripts.”

“Empty the safe,” Bradshaw said again, ignoring him.

Bruce returned the two MacDonald manuscripts to the top drawer, then reached to the top shelf and removed a clamshell holding The Catcher in the Rye. “You want to see it?”

“Yes,” Bradshaw replied.

Bruce carefully opened the clamshell and removed the book. He held it up for them to see, and video, then put it back. “And you want to see all of them?”

“That’s right.”

“It’s a waste of time. These are published novels, not manuscripts.”

“We know that.”

“These clamshells are custom made for each book and much too small to hold a manuscript.”

That much was obvious, but time was not a factor and a thorough search was required. “Next,” Bradshaw said, nodding at the shelves in the safe.

Methodically, Bruce removed the books one at a time, opened the clamshells, displayed the books, then set them aside. As he happily went about his business, Bradshaw and Vanno shook their heads, glared at each other, rolled their eyes, and in general looked as baffled as a couple of hoodwinked agents could possibly look.