for.’
‘I agree that they are valuable,’
Irene said as diplomatically as she could, ‘and very portable, but I don’t
think it’s what Ms Manning wants. I don’t think that the ashes of a cricket
stump can be called art.’
‘Man, you’re hard to please!’
Patrick stood up. ‘You find something then. I’ll see if there’s any football
on. The Jets are playing Buffalo .’
‘Go the Buffalo Bills!’ Irritated that Patrick
had lost interest so quickly, Irene cheered for the team that opposed his Jets.
‘I could try Venice ,’ she said, ‘and bring back some
priceless glass.’
‘You’d probably drop it,’ Patrick
retaliated for the Bills quip, but Irene ignored him.
‘Here’s a cool one: Titian’s Danae in the Capidimonte Museum in Naples . It’s got an interesting history
too, because Hermann Goering stole it during World War Two and it was recovered
from a salt mine in Austria .’
‘Is that so?’ Patrick half rose
from his seat as the Jets powered forward, and then swore as somebody called a
time-out and a commercial for Budweiser took control of the television screen.
‘A salt mine, eh? Now that is cool; did the salt not damage it?’ With the
football temporarily suspended he could spare some attention for Irene.
She treated him to one of the
frowns that regularly subdued her underlings. ‘And here’s more. During the war
the British carried all London ’s art treasures to underground
quarries to protect them from German bombers.’
‘Hitler should have nuked them.
The Brits drove my ancestors out of Ireland .’ Patrick returned to the television, switching channels as the
commercial break seemed to last longer than the game. He swore again, ‘talking
of the Brits, here they are now, Queen Elizabeth in all her pomp and glitter.’
Irene studied the screen,
consciously comparing the British queen with Ms Manning and wondering who was
the wealthier. ‘That’s the queen eh? She thinks she’s real special, with all
these horsemen around her.’
‘Toy soldiers,’ Patrick gave his
opinion. ‘A squad of US Marines would wipe out the lot of them.’
‘Nice jewellery she’s wearing,’
Irene commented. ‘I could see me wearing that tiara when I next go shopping in
Macy’s.’
‘That would be worth stealing for
Ms Manning.’ Patrick held Irene’s eyes. The smile began slowly but spread until
his whole face altered. He reminded Irene of a mischievous small boy in an
adult’s body. ‘Think of that as a blow for old Ireland . Steal the crown jewels of England and bring them to America .’
‘They’re certainly valuable,’
Irene agreed.
‘And portable,’ Patrick continued.
‘And spectacularly impressive.’
Irene was also smiling.
‘What a coup that would be!’ She
returned to the computer and typed in ‘Crown Jewels of England.’ Paraphrasing
the words, she read out the various entries.
‘The Crown jewels are more than
just a crown; the collection also contains sceptres, orbs, swords, gold and
silver plate and other regalia. The plate was refashioned in 1661 after
Cromwell had ordered the originals melted down.’
‘Well done, Cromwell,’ Patrick
approved. ‘I’ll bet he was an Irishman.’
Ignoring him, Irene continued,
‘The Imperial State Crown was worn at the coronation. Its jewels are so ancient
that Edward the Confessor is believed to have worn the sapphire as a ring.’
‘Edward the who?’ Patrick asked.
‘Confessor. Listen. The Imperial
State Crown holds over 3000 diamonds and pearls, including the incomparable Cullinan
diamond. The Queen Mother’s Crown has the Koh-I-Noor diamond, the Mountain of Light which carries a curse for male
owners, but any woman who owns it will rule the world.’
‘Sounds just Ms Manning’s sort,’
Patrick moved closer. Let’s get them.’
‘There’s just one problem,’ Irene
read on. ‘The English crown jewels are housed in an underground Jewel House
beneath the Waterloo Barracks.’ She looked up.
‘I agree that they are valuable,’
Irene said as diplomatically as she could, ‘and very portable, but I don’t
think it’s what Ms Manning wants. I don’t think that the ashes of a cricket
stump can be called art.’
‘Man, you’re hard to please!’
Patrick stood up. ‘You find something then. I’ll see if there’s any football
on. The Jets are playing Buffalo .’
‘Go the Buffalo Bills!’ Irritated that Patrick
had lost interest so quickly, Irene cheered for the team that opposed his Jets.
‘I could try Venice ,’ she said, ‘and bring back some
priceless glass.’
‘You’d probably drop it,’ Patrick
retaliated for the Bills quip, but Irene ignored him.
‘Here’s a cool one: Titian’s Danae in the Capidimonte Museum in Naples . It’s got an interesting history
too, because Hermann Goering stole it during World War Two and it was recovered
from a salt mine in Austria .’
‘Is that so?’ Patrick half rose
from his seat as the Jets powered forward, and then swore as somebody called a
time-out and a commercial for Budweiser took control of the television screen.
‘A salt mine, eh? Now that is cool; did the salt not damage it?’ With the
football temporarily suspended he could spare some attention for Irene.
She treated him to one of the
frowns that regularly subdued her underlings. ‘And here’s more. During the war
the British carried all London ’s art treasures to underground
quarries to protect them from German bombers.’
‘Hitler should have nuked them.
The Brits drove my ancestors out of Ireland .’ Patrick returned to the television, switching channels as the
commercial break seemed to last longer than the game. He swore again, ‘talking
of the Brits, here they are now, Queen Elizabeth in all her pomp and glitter.’
Irene studied the screen,
consciously comparing the British queen with Ms Manning and wondering who was
the wealthier. ‘That’s the queen eh? She thinks she’s real special, with all
these horsemen around her.’
‘Toy soldiers,’ Patrick gave his
opinion. ‘A squad of US Marines would wipe out the lot of them.’
‘Nice jewellery she’s wearing,’
Irene commented. ‘I could see me wearing that tiara when I next go shopping in
Macy’s.’
‘That would be worth stealing for
Ms Manning.’ Patrick held Irene’s eyes. The smile began slowly but spread until
his whole face altered. He reminded Irene of a mischievous small boy in an
adult’s body. ‘Think of that as a blow for old Ireland . Steal the crown jewels of England and bring them to America .’
‘They’re certainly valuable,’
Irene agreed.
‘And portable,’ Patrick continued.
‘And spectacularly impressive.’
Irene was also smiling.
‘What a coup that would be!’ She
returned to the computer and typed in ‘Crown Jewels of England.’ Paraphrasing
the words, she read out the various entries.
‘The Crown jewels are more than
just a crown; the collection also contains sceptres, orbs, swords, gold and
silver plate and other regalia. The plate was refashioned in 1661 after
Cromwell had ordered the originals melted down.’
‘Well done, Cromwell,’ Patrick
approved. ‘I’ll bet he was an Irishman.’
Ignoring him, Irene continued,
‘The Imperial State Crown was worn at the coronation. Its jewels are so ancient
that Edward the Confessor is believed to have worn the sapphire as a ring.’
‘Edward the who?’ Patrick asked.
‘Confessor. Listen. The Imperial
State Crown holds over 3000 diamonds and pearls, including the incomparable Cullinan
diamond. The Queen Mother’s Crown has the Koh-I-Noor diamond, the Mountain of Light which carries a curse for male
owners, but any woman who owns it will rule the world.’
‘Sounds just Ms Manning’s sort,’
Patrick moved closer. Let’s get them.’
‘There’s just one problem,’ Irene
read on. ‘The English crown jewels are housed in an underground Jewel House
beneath the Waterloo Barracks.’ She looked up.
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