“No, I really couldn’t have.”
“And why is that?”
Kane shrugged. “It’s what Ward asked for.”
“Why’d he want it so badly?”
It was the same question Kane had been grappling with as of late. WhyhadWard wanted the necklace? Sure, it was a primateria source, but he was no alchemologist, and didn’t even have one working for him any longer. He’d claimed the source could bring power to whoever possessed it, but that was a vague motivation for someone like Ward. The more Kane mulled it over, the less certain he was the kingpin had shared the whole truth.
“I don’t know,” he told Price. “It wasn’t my place to ask.”
“And where is the necklace now?”
A lie sprang to Kane’s lips before he had thought his answer through. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
The inspector watched him for a long moment. Anyone else might have crumbled under that interrogative glare, but Kane raised his chin, letting his own gaze issue a challenge.
“Let’s speak plainly,” he said. “Ward paid you a healthy cut forturning a blind eye to his business dealings. I’m willing to extend the same offer, but we need to be able to trust each other.”
The line of Price’s mouth twisted. “If we’respeaking plainly, Durante, then let me be frank: I know you know what Ward did with that necklace. I can only assume it’s no longer in your possession, since I doubt you’d be so foolish as to withhold it from me. This isn’t a game, you understand. My job is in jeopardy. And if I don’t keep my job, where does that leave you?”
“I’m not interested in hypotheticals,” Kane retorted. “I wasn’t privy to every one of Ward’s plans, but if you continue to do well by my crew, I’ll get the necklace back.” He thought of Zaria. The primateria source she’d so desperately needed, and the choices he’d made as a result. He fought to control his expression. “In the meantime, I’m sure you can keep the Irish off your back.”
The inspector snorted. “Horse, carrot. Is that it?”
“I think we both know you’re far cleverer than a horse, Inspector.”
“You know,Durante, you might just make a good kingpin.”
“Why’s that?” Kane asked, smirking as he crossed his ankles beneath the desk.
Price wagged a finger at him. “You’re a slick son of a bitch, that’s why. Let’s hope that quality comes in handy once I show you this.”
An unpleasant sensation settled in Kane’s stomach as the inspector handed him a folded bit ofThe Timesnewspaper. “What is it?”
“Just read.”
He did, quickly and with growing confusion. It was a story about a strange device that had apparently shown up at the Crystal Palace with no explanation. It didn’t appear to be part of any display, yet it functioned in a manner that left even the Exhibition’s most skilled technicians baffled. “I’m not sure what this has to do with me. What kind of device is it?”
“That’s the question,” Price said. “Nobody can identify it, nor can they figure out how to move it. Might as well be part of the Crystal Palace floor.”
“You think it’s alchemological.”
“Correct. Somehow, someone installed a magical item in the Exhibition without anyone being the wiser. And that’s not all.” Price plucked the newspaper from Kane’s frozen grip and replaced it with a small piece of firm paper. “They left this behind.”
A business card, Kane realized as he turned it over, frustration mounting. One side was blank. The other said simply—in curling, delicate script—The Curator. Nothing about the title struck him as familiar. “Who the hell is the Curator?”
“So you’re claiming it has nothing to do with you.”
“You thought it did?”
“I assumed it didn’t, in fact. But some believe otherwise.”
Kane flicked the card back across the desk. Unease was beginning to creep in, and he resented its presence. “Get on with it, Inspector. What’s all this about?”
Price’s narrow mouth thinned further. “The crown and my superiors think the two are connected. The theft of the Waterhouse necklace and the appearance of the device. An attempt at public mockery, so to speak. I’m sure you can imagine their level of displeasure.”
“Well, they’renotconnected,” Kane snapped. “I love a good gloat as much as the next bastard, but I’m no wooden spoon.”
