“Hell,” Jeremy breathed.

With eerie calm, Lillian picked up her cigarette. “It was obvious to everyone but me that our mad monk had betrayed us.”

“Why not to you?”

“Because I believed in him. He’s that sort of man, Jeremy.”

He nodded, thinking of Ashley. “So I’ve been told. Lillian, what about the jewels?”

“They represent the second stupidest thing I’ve ever done. Andrew showed them to us, in the cellar, as a way of proving to us that he wasn’t lying about being this Hungarian count. It was very dramatic.”

Jeremy had to smile. “You took notes?”

“Of course.” And she, too, smiled. “Whatever mistakes I made, at least I meant well. Anyway, Andrew insisted that he wouldn’t take the jewels—the Balaton jewels, he called them—to the West with him. It was too dangerous, and he didn’t want them; they belonged in his homeland. But Judith and I decided he was being absurdly heroic. So we snuck the jewels into Austria ourselves, inside our clothing. Andrew had no idea.”

“Mac?”

“Lord, no. It was our secret. After the disaster on the border, we felt silly carrying a fortune in jewels around with us. For a long time we just didn’t say anything. Then Judith and Andrew decided to marry, and she came up with her plan to wear them the night they announced their engagement, at a Christmas ball, and surprise Andrew. She was absolutely stunning. Jaws literally dropped when she walked into the ballroom in that silver gown with the choker on that long white neck of hers and her hair woven in among the diamonds and pearls of the tiara. I’d never seen her so beautiful.”

Jeremy conjured up images of old Judith Land movies, the face, the smile of the legendary actress. And then he glanced up, and there she was, laughing and smiling in the oil painting. “Was Andrew surprised?”

“I suppose so. I didn’t spend much time with either him or Judith. And the next time I saw the tiara and choker, Ashley Wakefield was wearing them that night at the institute.”

32

After a much longer ride than David had expected, they came to a dilapidated dock on an island enveloped in a damp cover of fog. “Weird place for a billionaire to hang out,” David muttered, looking around. As far as he could see, the place was uninhabited—but, he noted, he couldn’t see far. “Is the house on the other side of the island?”

Balaton had taken the crutches and tossed them onto the half-rotted dock. Now he smiled as he offered David his shoulder, “Crockett is an eccentric.”

“I guess so.”

As he staggered under a wave of dizziness, David gladly took the wiry little man’s help in getting out of the boat, although they both nearly ended up in the drink. When, breathless, they were standing together on the dock, Balaton handed David his crutches. “Come,” Balaton said, “I’ll show you.”

At best, the dock was unsteady, teetering ominously under David’s weight, and there were places where the boards had completely rotted through. As Balaton strutted ahead, David swung over a couple of missing boards. “Is Ash around here someplace?” he called. “If anything happens to her, all you assholes will pay.”