The Judas Hoard

Linden’s amber eyes widened slightly; otherwise she showed no emotion. Even the hand gripping the plastic knife, Alex noticed, was almost steady. Against his better judgment, he felt a spark of admiration for her. “Go away,” she said coolly, “or I’ll call security.” “And risk having them find out who you are?” “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Then why not call them over?” Alex goaded. Linden appeared unruffled. “Why don’t you get lost?” “Because we need to talk.” Alex kept his face expressionless. “Linden Travers.” “Prove it,” she snapped. Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew the photo used by all the news outlets. Linden’s face paled, emphasizing the dark circles under her eyes. “And you are . . . ? “Alex Blair. I’m a private investigator.” He pulled out his wallet to show a laminated license. “Your aunt hired me to find you.” “And now you have, what are you going to do?” “Find out what you did with it.” “It?” Linden clearly thought he was crazy. “Yes. It. The Judas Hoard. Your uncle’s pride and joy. Take your pick.” Shocked into silence, Linden stared at him for a moment before an incredulous expression crossed her face. “Are you saying the Judas Hoard was stolen?” “As if you didn’t know,” he scoffed. Recovering, she retorted, “Obviously, I didn’t. And I hate to burst your bubble, but I don’t have it.” “Then why run away? Drop out of sight?” “That’s not what happened,” she protested. Alex raised a skeptical eyebrow. “What part did I get wrong?” “If I’d dropped out of sight, you wouldn’t have tracked me down so fast.” “It wasn’t that hard. I was sure you’d be at your uncle’s funeral. You might have fooled everyone else, but I recognized you and followed you. By the time you’d reached the Sheraton Hotel I’d made two discoveries. Someone called Julia van Oppen rented the limo you were in, and she was registered as a guest at the hotel. Know what was really interesting?” “I can’t wait for you to tell me.” “At that precise moment Julia van Oppen was in her office at Anderson & Wood on Fifth Avenue, taking phone calls.” “And that was enough to convince you that you’d found your man? Or in this case your woman?” “It was worth a try, so I hung around the Sheraton’s lobby, figuring you’d go out at some point. Sure enough, you came down within the hour and I followed you again.” Alex glanced around the glass atrium. “Thanks for picking such a great spot for me to introduce myself. This isn’t some place you want to make a scene. So, again, why haven’t you contacted your family? The police?” “I don’t know.” “You don’t know?” Anger edged Alex’s voice. “Believe it or not, I woke up Tuesday morning in a strange house with no memory of the previous night.” “Oh, come on! You expect me to buy that?” Linden shrugged. “Suit yourself. It’s the truth.” “Unfortunately, your version of the truth bears no resemblance to the facts.” “And those facts are enough to have me hounded like a criminal?” “Why not? They’re enough to make some people decide you’re a murderer, but most just think you’re a thief.” Reaching for her coffee, Linden gulped down a mouthful. “And you agree with them. I can hear it in your voice. You’re convinced of my guilt.” The words were out before she could stop them, and watching Alex’s face tighten, she knew she’d made a mistake. She needed him on her side, which meant that sharing information with him would benefit her─for the moment. Taking a deep breath, she said, “Sorry I lost it just then. As you can imagine, this has been an extremely traumatic experience. Since you seem to have some answers, I’d be very grateful if you’d start at the beginning and explain how, as far as you know, I happen to be in this position.” Alex’s expression softened slightly. “You were the last person to leave the Lambert house on Monday night. Your uncle died a few hours later and by mid-morning your fingerprints were found plastered all over the safe in his study.” “Of course you’d find them there,” Linden exploded, good intentions forgotten. “I’ve opened that safe a million times.” “What was found isn’t important. It’s what was missing.” “If you mean the Judas Hoard, I don’t believe you. It was locked in the safe and that safe was burglarproof.” “Not for someone who knows the codes and has access to the house.” Linden tried to stay calm. “I hope you don’t consider me to be that someone. It was my job to protect the Judas Hoard, not steal it.” Leaning forward, Alex made no attempt to disguise his cynicism. “To a lot of people, the Judas Hoard is just a bunch of old coins, but you know they’re worth a fortune. I’m also willing to bet that you’re aware there’s a South American collector who’s willing to pay nine million dollars for them.” “They’re not for sale.” Linden’s tone left no room for argument. “Of the original thirty pieces of silver paid to Judas Iscariot for betraying Jesus Christ, these six are all that remain.” “So I’ve been told,” said Alex. “But even if the story were true, it’s hard to believe any of these coins exist.” “The story’s true all right. The bible’s backed up by plenty of documented evidence from contemporary records.” “Still doesn’t prove these are the real McCoy.” Linden spoke with exaggerated patience. “Nowadays, we live in a very high tech world with such innovations as carbon dating.” “All that shows is the age. These could just be six random coins . . .” “They’re not random,” Linden interrupted. “And they’ve always been stored in a linen bag with a distinctive weave. Not only do analyses date it back to the time of Christ, but to the Jerusalem area as well. In addition, the coins all share such characteristics as similar dirt, friction marks and patina, evidence they’ve been together in one place for a very long time. Around two thousand years in fact.” “That is a long time,” Alex conceded.