The Lost Throne by Chris Kuzneski Page A

but you were the first person I thought of when the topic was broached.”
    Payne said nothing, not sure if that was a compliment or an insult.
    “So,” Ulster asked, “did Richard ever get ahold of you?”
    “Richard who?”
    “Richard Byrd. The colleague we’re discussing.”
    “That depends on your definition. Have I talked to him? No. But he’s called me seventeen times in the last twelve hours.”
    Ulster laughed. “Stop exaggerating.”
    “I wish I were, but I’m quite serious. Seventeen calls and three messages.”
    “Good heavens! I had no idea he would be so intrusive.”
    “I don’t think
intrusive
is the right word. More like scared. Byrd is
scared
about something.”
    “Scared? Why would he be scared?”
    “You tell me. What was he trying to smuggle? Drugs? Weapons?”
    “Weapons? Heavens no! I would
never
get involved in something like that.”
    “Then what? What are we talking about?”
    Ulster paused, detecting tension in Payne’s voice. He sounded more serious now than two years ago when the Archives were under attack. “Jonathon, what aren’t you telling me?”
    “No, Petr, what aren’t you telling me? If I’m going to keep your friend alive, I need to know everything—starting at the very beginning.”
    “Alive? Who said anything about dead?”
    Payne took a deep breath, trying to soften his tone. “Your friend did. He sent me a text message that said:
This is not a prank. Life or death. Please call at once.
”
    “Are you serious?”
    “Couple that with all his calls and you can see why I’m concerned.”
    “Oh my Lord, I had no idea. I just thought he needed your advice.”
    “Unfortunately,” Payne said, “I think he needs more than that.”
    “Jon,” Jones whispered, “put him on speakerphone.”
    Payne nodded. “Petr, I’m going to put you on speakerphone so D.J. can listen in.”
    “Yes, of course. The more help, the better.”
    Payne clicked the button and placed the phone on the desk between him and Jones.
    “Hey, Petr,” Jones said. “How are you?”
    “I was much better five minutes ago. Now I’m worried for Richard.”
    “Don’t worry. We’ll get to the bottom of this. But first we need some background info.”
    “Whatever you need, just ask.”
    “What do you know about him?”
    “His name is Richard Byrd. He’s an American collector from California. He’s visited the Archives a number of times during the past few years, spending most of his time with my Greek collection. In return, he loaned us several ancient coins to examine. Lovely items. Just lovely.”
    The goal of the Ulster Archives was to foster the concept of sharing when it came to historical research, something of a rarity in academia, where experts and collectors tend to hoard things for themselves. According to some estimates, only fifteen percent of the world’s most valuable artifacts are displayed in public forums like museums or galleries. The other eighty-five percent are kept in private collections or stored in crates for safekeeping. In order to gain access to the Archives, a scholar had to bring something of value—either new research or an ancient relic—for his peers to study. Otherwise, Ulster wouldn’t let him enter the facility.
    Jones frowned. “Wait a second. Did you say Greek?”
    “Yes, Greek.”
    “Not Russian?”
    “Russian? Why would I say Russian?”
    Payne answered. “Because that’s where he was calling from.”
    “From Russia? He was supposed to be in Greece!”
    “Yet he was calling from Saint Petersburg. We have the phone records to prove it.”
    Ulster grimaced, growing more confused by the minute. “That doesn’t make any sense. The last time we spoke he said he had found a wonderful addition for my Greek collection and wanted to bring it here immediately. The only problem was getting it through customs, since the Greek government is notorious for protecting its heritage. That’s when he asked me for my advice and I gave him your phone