hated New York at any time other than winter. In the winter he could cover up as much as he liked without anyone batting an eye. Walking onto the subway wearing a turtleneck, beanie, and gloves in the middle of summer seemed to incite annoyance, ridicule, or outright suspicion in all good New Yorkers. The short walk from the Forty-second Street station to the New York Metropolitan Museum resulted in no less than twenty concerned looks, four laughs, and three unpleasant comments. As buses, cabs, and delivery trucks zoomed past him, a trip-hammer pounded away at a distant construction site, and the shoulders of strangers grazed against him. Matt realized he despised simply everything about this city, whatever the season.
Tuni greeted him on his way into the lobby. He was looking at the giant skeletal T. rex , held up by several dozen support cables. He remembered when they were putting it up a few years ago. It wasn’t even real—just a bunch of chicken wire, plaster, and plastic resin.
“Right this way, Matthew,” Tuni said. It sounded like “MaTYEW”—he liked it.
He only remembered seeing her at the front desk a couple of times, but then it was just her head and shoulders. He hadn’t realized how tall she was. As she walked a little ahead of him, he noticed he hadn’t fully appreciated a lot of things about her. He also realized that she had kept her hands behind her back when greeting him a moment ago. No attempt at a handshake. Very considerate. Did she know?
She opened the door to the museum director’s office, and he saw Dr. Meier stand up behind his desk, a good distance across the room. It all looked the same: impressive books on the walls, antique Persian rugs covering areas of dark hardwood floor. This was the floor he had admired and ordered for his new house. His own was better, though, he noticed.
“Have a seat, Matthew,” said Dr. Meier, his voice ringing with triumphant good cheer.
“In one of these antiques, Doctor?” Matt said with feigned umbrage. “I feel that you just don’t know me at all.”
Meier nodded with a fatuous smile and remained standing.
“It was nice to officially meet you,” Tuni said and walked to the door.
“Yeah, you too.” Matt waited for the door to close. “I say we cut to the chase, Doc. Let’s see the coin.”
“Oh, come, come, Matthew. Why would I just hand it to you? You might get everything you need to know in an instant, and then what could you possibly need us for? You get your quid with no pro quo. ”
“Why would I believe that this coin exists at all, let alone that it would lead to anything close to what you suggest? I’ll need to hold it for at least a couple minutes.”
Dr. Meier considered this for a moment, recalling other times he had seen Turner in action. It usually took him a five or more minutes to return anything useful. He also realized that Matthew had undoubtedly thought this through over the past twenty-four hours and would be unlikely to get on a plane to Kenya without a quick sampling.
“Have you brought your passport and whatever else you’ll need for our little Kenya safari?”
“I have enough for a few days. I don’t plan on staying any longer than that, regardless of what happens.”
“More than enough time.” Meier opened a low cabinet in the wall behind his desk and spun quickly through a combination before opening the safe. He rose with palm upturned, holding a large silver coin on a square of red velvet. The coin’s edges were well rounded from wear, and the face on the front was barely visible.
“Where is it from?”
“France. Napoleon the Third’s attempts at ‘mediation’ between the North and South. Fund the Confederates to even the odds; then force both sides to the table—or at least that’s how he spun it. Either way, the silver never made it; the U.S.S. Hudson made sure of that—sent it straight to the bottom.”
“Cool… All right, well…” Matt took a wrinkled bedsheet from his
Tuni greeted him on his way into the lobby. He was looking at the giant skeletal T. rex , held up by several dozen support cables. He remembered when they were putting it up a few years ago. It wasn’t even real—just a bunch of chicken wire, plaster, and plastic resin.
“Right this way, Matthew,” Tuni said. It sounded like “MaTYEW”—he liked it.
He only remembered seeing her at the front desk a couple of times, but then it was just her head and shoulders. He hadn’t realized how tall she was. As she walked a little ahead of him, he noticed he hadn’t fully appreciated a lot of things about her. He also realized that she had kept her hands behind her back when greeting him a moment ago. No attempt at a handshake. Very considerate. Did she know?
She opened the door to the museum director’s office, and he saw Dr. Meier stand up behind his desk, a good distance across the room. It all looked the same: impressive books on the walls, antique Persian rugs covering areas of dark hardwood floor. This was the floor he had admired and ordered for his new house. His own was better, though, he noticed.
“Have a seat, Matthew,” said Dr. Meier, his voice ringing with triumphant good cheer.
“In one of these antiques, Doctor?” Matt said with feigned umbrage. “I feel that you just don’t know me at all.”
Meier nodded with a fatuous smile and remained standing.
“It was nice to officially meet you,” Tuni said and walked to the door.
“Yeah, you too.” Matt waited for the door to close. “I say we cut to the chase, Doc. Let’s see the coin.”
“Oh, come, come, Matthew. Why would I just hand it to you? You might get everything you need to know in an instant, and then what could you possibly need us for? You get your quid with no pro quo. ”
“Why would I believe that this coin exists at all, let alone that it would lead to anything close to what you suggest? I’ll need to hold it for at least a couple minutes.”
Dr. Meier considered this for a moment, recalling other times he had seen Turner in action. It usually took him a five or more minutes to return anything useful. He also realized that Matthew had undoubtedly thought this through over the past twenty-four hours and would be unlikely to get on a plane to Kenya without a quick sampling.
“Have you brought your passport and whatever else you’ll need for our little Kenya safari?”
“I have enough for a few days. I don’t plan on staying any longer than that, regardless of what happens.”
“More than enough time.” Meier opened a low cabinet in the wall behind his desk and spun quickly through a combination before opening the safe. He rose with palm upturned, holding a large silver coin on a square of red velvet. The coin’s edges were well rounded from wear, and the face on the front was barely visible.
“Where is it from?”
“France. Napoleon the Third’s attempts at ‘mediation’ between the North and South. Fund the Confederates to even the odds; then force both sides to the table—or at least that’s how he spun it. Either way, the silver never made it; the U.S.S. Hudson made sure of that—sent it straight to the bottom.”
“Cool… All right, well…” Matt took a wrinkled bedsheet from his
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