Deadly Jewels by Jeannette de Beauvoir Page A

through one of the men on the rotation.”
    â€œHis report?”
    â€œThat the first shipment arrived from Halifax last week. Crates with significant weight. Probably the gold.” He paused, gestured uncomfortably; Karl could see the reflection of the movement in the dark window. “The rest is really nothing but rumors.”
    â€œWhich say…?”
    â€œIt seems almost too fantastic to repeat, Herr General.”
    â€œBe fantastic, Captain. Let yourself go.” The voice was dry.
    â€œVery well.” He cleared his throat again. “My man reports rumors that the freight includes the—er—well, the British crown jewels.” A pause. “Sir.”
    There was a long silence. The longcase clock by the door ticked loudly; a log in the fireplace fell, sizzling. “The British. Crown. Jewels.”
    â€œYes, Herr General.”
    â€œPerhaps not as fantastic as you think, Captain.” The younger man couldn’t see him, but Karl was smiling. Everyone knew the convoys were there, and it was sheer bad luck that none had ever been caught as they made their limping way across the Atlantic.
    But this … this might be even better than sending the English gold to the bottom of the sea. This could mean a lot of things.
    It meant the Englanders were scared. As well they should be.
    It meant there was an opportunity for a boot on the neck of the damned island.
    â€œGet my aide,” he said.
    â€œYes, Herr General.”
    The young soldier came in, snapped to attention. “Herr General?”
    â€œGet me Reichsmarschall Göring on the telephone,” said the general. “We have some very interesting news for him.”

 
    CHAPTER TEN
    I stopped at a Provigo on the way home for some groceries; I shop differently when the kids are in town. Don’t think for a moment that good behavior can’t be elicited through a few well-placed bribes, including ones of an alimentary nature: it can. I’m living proof.
    There was, naturally, bad news at home.
    â€œI’m sorry,” Ivan was saying. “I know it’s not convenient, but there’s really never a time that’s convenient, is there?”
    I stared at him. “I don’t understand. You have to go to Boston ?”
    â€œJust for the day. I’ll be back Sunday, well before the kids leave.”
    I felt bewildered. Ivan did, in fact, travel for his work, but the trips were usually planned quite a while in advance, and almost never at a time when Lukas and Claudia were in town; Margery was good at being flexible around our schedules. “Why? I don’t understand.”
    â€œThere’s nothing to understand.” He clearly didn’t want to talk about it. “Margery needs to talk to me without the kids around.”
    â€œSo she can call. She can Skype. She can come here sometime during the week. Why do you have to go now?” I was sounding petulant, and didn’t like it. But, seriously? I was dealing with an ancient murder, someone tailing Patricia, Jean-Luc about to have a coronary if he didn’t get to crow about all this, and now I was going to have to be in charge of entertaining Ivan’s kids because Ivan decided to go to Boston and talk to his ex?
    â€œIt’s not that long,” Ivan said. “We were going to go to the Insectarium tomorrow anyway, you can just do it without me.” He caught my look. “Unless you were planning on working,” he said suddenly.
    I felt defensive. “Part of the day, anyway,” I said. “It’s only because—”
    â€œSometimes,” he interrupted, “once in a while, Martine, mine has to come first.”
    â€œThat’s completely unfair,” I said. “I don’t expect my stuff to always come first.”
    â€œNo,” he said. “You just have a hissy fit when it doesn’t.”
    â€œI’m not having a hissy fit!” Here’s a thought: