Jayne Castle - After Dark

"That about sums it up."

"Any idea who might have wanted to kill him?"

"No. But there was always someone around who was unhappy with Chester." She made a face. "Including me. I've been struggling to get a private consulting business up and running. Last month he lured away my first important client. I was furious with him for a while. But it was hard to stay mad at him."

"I see."

Lydia straightened in her seat. "I think it's time you told me exactly why you wanted to hire me, Mr. London."

He leaned back in his chair and propped his feet up on the railing. "Recently a family heirloom was taken from my private collection. I have reason to believe that the thief brought it here to Cadence and sold it on the underground market. I want it back."

"You want me to help you trace it?"

"Yes."

"It's a Harmonic artifact, I assume?"

"No. As a matter of fact, it's not an antiquity from the ruins. This particular artifact came through the Curtain with my ancestors."

Her eyes widened. "You're looking for something pre-colonial? An object from Earth?"

"Yes." The barely suppressed excitement in her voice amused him. "It's not nearly as old as anything from the Dead Cities here on Harmony, of course. But it is, obviously, extremely valuable."

"Naturally." Enthusiasm lit her face. "Anything from the Old World is worth a fortune to collectors. So little remains."

"Yes."

Everyone knew that after the mysterious gate between worlds known as the curtain closed forever, the settlers on Harmony had found themselves stranded. Lacking replacement parts, the equipment the colonists had brought with them had ultimately failed. Everything that could be used had been stripped. Many valuable artifacts had been lost during the violent, tumultuous period known as the Era of Discord. Most of the rest had been discarded, lost, or destroyed in the two hundred years that had passed since colonization.

"What was it?" Lydia demanded eagerly. "One of the computers? An agricultural tool of some kind?"

"It's a box," Emmett said.

Her face fell. "A box?"

"A very special box. Hand-carved from some sort of golden-brown wood and trimmed with gold and silver metals. It's called a cabinet of curiosities. It contains dozens and dozens of small secret drawers. My great-grandmother claimed that no one in the family had ever found and unlocked all of them."

Lydia frowned. "I don't understand. It sounds like a work of art, not a piece of Old Earth equipment or a mechanical device."

"It is a work of art. Handmade by an Old World craftsman some four hundred years before the Curtain opened. One of my Earth-side ancestors had the wood especially treated to preserve it indefinitely."

"But that's not possible." Lydia's voice gentled, although she did not trouble to hide the disappointment in her eyes. "You know as well as I do that the settlers brought no art with them. Space on the transports was too limited. And the Curtain closed before trade between the two worlds could be established. Perhaps it's something one of your ancestors made after arriving here on Harmony."

"No," Emmett said. "The cabinet of curiosities is from Old Earth."

"But how did your ancestors get it here?"

Emmett glanced at her. "I'm told that my several-times-great-grandfather had no choice. He married just before he came through the Curtain, and his new wife insisted on bringing the cabinet with her. Apparently she was a strong-willed woman. Somehow, she convinced my ancestor to smuggle it on board the transport."

Lydia looked politely doubtful. "I see."

"You don't believe me?" he asked skeptically.

"Every family has a few quaint legends concerning its Old World history."

"You think I'm looking for a colonial-era box that one of my forebears crafted right here on Harmony, don't you?" She gave him a breezy, reassuring smile. "Don't worry. It really doesn't matter what I think about the provenance of your missing artifact. I don't have to believe that it came through the Curtain in order to find it for you."

"True, but there's a small problem with that approach."

"What problem?"

"If you really think that I'm semidelusional or just overly sentimental about an old family antique, you probably won't be sufficiently careful."

"Why do I need to be careful?"

"Because there are collectors who do believe that the box dates from pre-Curtain Earth. Some of them would no doubt kill to get their hands on it."

"A small chest, you say." Bartholomew Greeley folded his hands on top of the locked glass case. His broad, ruddy features assumed a meditative expression. "Made of a yellowish wood. With a number of tiny hidden drawers."

"That's how my client described it." Lydia glanced at her watch. She had only twenty minutes left on her lunch hour. "Apparently it's been in his family for several generations. Between you and me, he's convinced it's an Old World antique."

Greeley looked pained. "Highly unlikely."

"Yeah, I know. Probably a nice heirloom—quality piece made right here on Harmony less than a hundred years ago but with a history that has been, shall we say, embellished by a long series of grandfathers and grandmothers." Lydia nodded. "You know how families are when it comes to that kind of thing."

"Indeed." Bartholomew's eyes gleamed. "But if the particular family in question actually believes the item is of Old World manufacture—" He let the sentence trail off suggestively.

Lydia got the point. "Rest assured, my client is convinced that the cabinet came from Earth, and he is prepared to pay well to get it back."

"How well?" Bartholomew asked bluntly.

"He has instructed me to put out the word that he will top any offer from a private collector."

"What about an offer from a museum?"

"My client says he can prove ownership of the cabinet and will go to court to get it back if necessary. No curator will touch it if he or she thinks the museum will lose it in a legal battle. What with the initial expense plus legal costs, it wouldn't be worth the price."

"True. Not unless the artifact in question actually is a work of art from the home world."

"As you said, highly unlikely. The thing to keep in mind is that my client believes it's from Earth. That means there will probably be some other collectors who can be persuaded to believe it too."

"Hmm." Bartholomew pursed his lips. "So you need concern yourself only with the private market."

"Not just the private collector market, Bart." Lydia gave him a meaningful look. "A very special segment of that market."

He did not pretend to misunderstand. "The segment that does not ask too many questions."

"Right. We both know that you would never get involved in questionable transactions, of course."

"Absolutely not. I have my reputation to consider."

"Naturally." Lydia was proud of the fact that she did not even blink at that statement. "But a dealer in your position sometimes hears things. I just want you to know that my client is prepared to compensate you for any information that leads to the recovery of his antique box."

"Indeed." Bartholomew glanced around the cluttered interior of Greeley's Antiques with an air of satisfaction. "You're quite right, of course. A dealer in my position occasionally picks up rumors."

Lydia followed his gaze. The display cabinets were crammed with odd bits and pieces of rusty metal and warped, faded plastic. She recognized some of the items in the cases, including what looked like the remains of an Old World weather forecasting instrument and the hilt of a knife. They were typical of the kind of basic tools the settlers had brought through the Curtain or crafted shortly after their arrival on Harmony.

A torn, badly stained shirt with a round colonial-style collar was displayed in one of the glass-topped counters. Next to it was a pair of boots that looked as old as the shirt. Neither the shirt nor the boots bore any traces of artistic adornment. The colonists had tended to be an austere lot. They'd become even more focused on the basics of survival after the Curtain had closed.