Deadly Jewels by Jeannette de Beauvoir Page B

the glass and chrome of Café Pavé, probably the last time in a while that we’d be bathed in light. “This way, just in case anything goes wrong…”
    I looked at her sharply. “What’s going to go wrong?”
    â€œNothing,” she said and laughed as she pushed her glasses back up her nose. “It’s just a precaution, don’t worry.”
    Easier said than done. But it was my own fault; when she had started to describe the urban exploration that had brought her to the center of her dissertation, I’d held up my hand. “You mean there’s something still there ? Something from the forties?”
    â€œYes, of course.”
    â€œWhy of course? And why hasn’t anyone seen it? And what is it?”
    â€œIt wasn’t always open,” she said reasonably. “Urban explorers have been down in these tunnels before; you’re right, they would have found anything there was to find. But the museum’s expansion work diverted some of the waterways, and one of them broke through into these rooms I’m telling you about. The rooms are under Sun-Life and they’ve been sealed off, bricked up. I think the vault was probably in there.”
    â€œThe vault’s gone?”
    â€œHigh-tech for its time,” she said. “They probably sold it.”
    â€œSo how do you know—?”
    â€œBecause it’s a mess in there, and I didn’t take time to look at everything because frankly I was a little spooked, but there were some empty crates. And there was a hatbox.”
    â€œA hatbox?” I wasn’t getting the significance.
    She leaned forward. “The story is that King George and his two daughters—one of them is Queen Elizabeth to us, by the way—took the jewels out of their settings and packed them into hatboxes. Diamonds and rubies and emeralds and God only knows what else—well, you see why I got excited.”
    â€œI see why you got excited.”
    â€œSo when do you want to go?” She caught my look. “Well, don’t you? Isn’t that the point? You don’t want your boss or those cops finding it first, and neither do I. Listen to me, this is perfect. I want the discovery to be mine, you want to keep this under wraps, so we both win. I need a witness to the discovery, and once you see what’s at stake, you’ll know how to handle the politics—which, frankly, is way beyond either my interest or ability.”
    â€œUh-huh.” I thought about it for a moment, rubbing my finger around the rim of my wineglass. The longer we waited, I thought, the more likely it was that it wouldn’t be our secret. Someone else would find the underground rooms. The feds, or customs, or my boss would get involved; and Patricia was right—once that happened, the genie was out of the bottle. I’d rather be able to decide on the timing of its release myself. “Tomorrow.”
    â€œSorry?”
    â€œWe’ll do it tomorrow. Unless you have anything more—”
    â€œNo,” she interrupted. “This is all I have.”
    I looked at her and thought, she’s telling the truth. It was there if you looked for it, the gleam of obsession, the single-mindedness that’s probably shared by crazy people and geniuses alike.
    â€œAll right,” I said. “Tomorrow.”
    Which was how I was now finding myself wearing gear that I hadn’t known existed, and listening to someone talking lightly about leaving a bread crumb trail in case things turned nasty.
    What could be nasty, after all, about wading through sewers?
    â€œWe’re not actually going to cross any active ones,” she said, uncannily reading my mind. Or perhaps it was my expression. “It’s just a precaution.” Like leaving Google Maps open on her computer, I thought. This woman didn’t leave much to chance.
    We went down into the complex two blocks away from my apartment, which was