“Now we know the thieves will kill for them,” Marcella said.
The room fell silent except for the hum of electronics and the distant sound of waves on the beach.Sophie felt the weight of what they were dealing with settling on her shoulders.
“We need to get ahead of them somehow,” Marcella said to Sophie.“At this point finding where they’re taking and storing the items might be our best bet, rather than trying to guess what they’ll hit next.Show me the rest of the video.”
As the action resumed, Feirn touched her arm lightly.His eyes were dark with concern as he whispered: “The Master needs to know.The group are escalating the stakes.”
Sophie nodded.Connor would have to be told, but she didn’t want to be the one to do that.As if reading her mind, Feirn said, “I will call and update him.”
“Yes,” Sophie said, relieved.
He stepped outside, removing the satellite phone he’d arrived with from a belt holster.
The sun dipped below the horizon, and the skylight overhead automatically adjusted, bathing the room in artificial light that couldn’t capture the magic of the Hawaiian sunset they had missed.
Done reviewing the recordings, Marcella saved the video to a drive and ejected it.“Let’s go check the display case they breached,” she told Whitmore.“I want to know how these guys got through a Dynatech 9000 security system.”
Whitmore led them through the house to a set of French doors opening onto a lanai that faced the private museum building.The trade winds had picked up, rustling through the coconut palms with a sibilant whisper.
“They came through here,” he said, pointing to the doors.“But look—no damage.Nothing forced.”
Sophie knelt beside the lock mechanism, pulling out a penlight.The smooth brass keyless lock showed no scratches, no tool marks.She ran her fingers along the doorframe, feeling for any irregularities.
“Feirn,” she called softly.He materialized beside her, crouching with fluid grace.She pointed to the lock, then spoke in Thai:“What do you see?What would your comrades do to breach this?”
Feirn’s tilted dark eyes narrowed as he examined the mechanism.Then he stood abruptly, scanning the lanai floor.He moved to a potted bird of paradise plant near the door and carefully tilted it.Beneath was a small electronic device, no bigger than a matchbox.
“Signal interceptor,”he said.“Very expensive.Military-grade.”
“They cloned your door’s key fob signal,” Sophie told Whitmore as Marcella photographed the devicein situ, then bagged it.
After they examined and photographed the locked case which had been penetrated with a glass cutter, Marcella gestured.“We should get going.Waxman wants us on the Big Island case.”
As they exited the mansion, Sophie moved to the edge of the lanai, studying tropical landscaping that bordered the walkway.Something caught her eye—a plumeria tree heavy with pink and white blossoms.At shoulder height, several flowers had been deliberately broken off, their stems twisted: they’d been tossed on the walkway.
Maybe this was the plumeria marker that had so far been missing from this theft.
“Feirn,” she called.
The bodyguard’s face went still when he saw the torn off plumeria.“An old custom.Asking forgiveness from the spirits before taking something sacred.This is someone who was trained in the deepest traditions.”
“What are you talking about?”Marcella asked, joining them.
Sophie translated once she saw that Whitmore was out of earshot.“The Yam Khûmk?n believe certain objects carry spiritual weight.According to Feirn, before taking them, they perform ceremonies to avoid spiritual retribution.Breaking off and offering a plumeria—frangipani—is one way.These flowers represent offerings to the gods.”
Feirn spoke rapidly, filling Sophie in more about the Yam Khûmk?n’s traditions.Sophie summarized for Marcella.“They believe they know how to handle objects withmanawithout bringing a curse on themselves.This is deep cultural knowledge.”
“So we’re dealing with true believers,” Marcella said.“Fanatics.”
“It seems so,” Sophie said.
She bent down and carefully collected one of the broken plumeria blossoms, sealing it in an evidence bag Marcella handed her.The flower’s perfume was sweet and slightly citrusy up close.
“Mr.Whitmore,” Marcella called.“I need a list of everyone who knew about your collection.Staff, guests, anyone who’s been to the house in the last six months.”
“Most of my serious pieces aren’t public knowledge,” Whitmore said, as they joined him.“I only show them to other collectors, scholars ...”
“That’s why it’s important,” Marcella said.“We’re tracking similar lists from the other thefts.When we find someone who overlaps, we will find our inside source.”
