“Thank you for helping, Professor Gold,” Mulrooney said.

“You realize that this may be something you might not want to deal with. That it may be beyond police work.”

“Tyler and I were targets,” Decker said. “Before I relinquish control, I want to have a better idea of what’s going on.”

“It’s a safety issue,” Mulrooney said.

“Exactly,” Decker agreed. “We have to know who the bad guys are. And once the spooks get it, they’ll cut us out of the loop.”

“I understand. But do be careful.” Business cards were exchanged as well as handshakes. “This would be amusing for me except I know that real people were murdered.” Gold shook his head. “I’ll do whatever I can. Do send my best to Tyler. I hope his recovery is swift.”

“I’ll do that.” Decker strolled over to the window and took one last look outside. The campus must have been ten times bigger than all the Upstate colleges put together. “Must be a great place to work.”

“It is,” Gold said. “Although in all honesty, despite all the trappings of this office and the prestige of Harvard, I could work in a closet and be happy. People like me . . . we live in our heads.”

Chapter 29

CHAPTER 29

WHILE SCHULTZ KEPT watch, Rina pushed McAdams’s wheelchair up to the historical reference desk, located on the third floor of Rayfield Library. It was in a separate, caged area where books of value and historical significance were kept, a step back into another time with musty red carpeting and walnut tables and chairs. The librarian in charge was a woman named Susan Devry. She was in her sixties with a curly nest of short, gray hair that framed a round, mocha face. Her frame was thin, her oversized sweater draping over a free-flowing midi skirt and black boots. She regarded Rina’s request for the Petroshkovich book and frowned. “I have to see if it’s back for loan.”

“Back from where?” McAdams had to look up to talk.

“Pretoria College in Marylebone.” She regarded the pair. “I suppose I don’t have to tell you two about the art theft of the Petroshkovich icons.”

Rina nodded. “We’re aware of the heist, yes.”

“How tragic,” Susan said. “There used to be a lot of interest in Petroshkovich—a lot of papers and theses—especially right after the icons were pilfered. But Nikolai seemed to have had his day in the sun. And since the artwork was never recovered, students lost interest.”

“Not everyone lost interest in him if his book went out on loan,” Rina said.

“Yes, but it’s usually more from an amateur detective point of view than from something scholarly.” Susan smiled sheepishly. “I’m not saying that’s bad . . . to be interested in the theft. I suppose anything that generates enthusiasm.”

“I’m surprised that the library loans out something so valuable,” McAdams said. “The book is worth six figures.”