“I don’t know,” Caleb acknowledged.

“What would something like that be worth?” Reuben asked.

“Worth?” Pearl exclaimed. “Worth? It’s priceless!”

“Well, if you’re going to sell it, somebody has to put a price on it.”

Pearl stood and started pacing. “The price will be whatever the highest bid is. And it will run to many, many millions of dollars. There are some collectors and institutions flush with cash right now, and the interest will be extraordinary. There hasn’t been a Psalm Book on the market for over six decades. This will be the positively last chance for some to get it for their collection.” He stopped pacing and looked at Caleb. “And I would be honored to arrange the auction. I could do it in conjunction with Sotheby’s or Christie’s.”

Caleb drew a deep breath. “This is a lot to take in, Mr. Pearl. Let me just think about everything for a day or two, and then I’ll phone you.”

Pearl looked disappointed but managed a smile. “I will eagerly await your call.”

After Pearl had left, Stone said, “Caleb, while you were down in the vault, we searched the house.”

“You did what!” Caleb exclaimed. “Oliver, that is outrageous. I’m only allowed in this house as Jonathan’s literary executor. I have no right to go through his other possessions, and neither do you.”

“Tell him about the telescope,” Reuben prompted with a smug look.

Stone did so, and Caleb’s anger was replaced with astonishment. He said, “Jonathan watching people having sex. That’s repulsive.”

“No, it’s really not,” Reuben replied earnestly. “It’s actually very uplifting in a way. You wanna go check it out with me?”

“No, Reuben!” Stone said firmly. Then he showed Caleb the photo of the young woman and DeHaven.

“If she was Jonathan’s wife, that was before I knew him,” Caleb said.

“If he kept the photo, he might have been in touch with her,” Milton suggested.

Stone said, “If so, she might be someone we need to find.” He glanced at the book Caleb was holding. “What’s that?”

“It’s a book in Jonathan’s collection that needs some work. It got some water damage somehow. I didn’t notice it the last time we were here. I’m going to take it into the conservation department at the library. Our people are the best in the world. One of them does some freelance work on the side. I’m sure he can repair it.”

Stone nodded and said in a warning tone, “Jonathan DeHaven inexplicably had one of the world’s most rare books. He was spying on an adulterous defense contractor and maybe saw more than sex. And no one knows how he really died.” He looked at his friends. “I think we have our work cut out for us.”

“Why do we have to do anything?” Reuben asked.

Stone looked at him. “Jonathan DeHaven might have been murdered. Someone followed us. Caleb works at the library, and he’s been commissioned to be DeHaven’s literary executor. If Cornelius Behan was involved in DeHaven’s death, he now might suspect that Caleb knows something. That might put Caleb at risk. So the sooner we find out the truth, the better.”

“Wonderful,” Caleb said sarcastically. “I just hope I manage to live through it.”

Chapter 23

“You will receive an e–mail from my people,” Annabelle said. She was standing in the operations center at the Pompeii Casino with several of Bagger’s people in attendance. “When you open the e–mail, it will provide you with detailed instructions.”

One of the men spoke up. “We don’t like opening e–mails if we don’t know where they’re from.”

Annabelle nodded. “Hit it with all your antivirus stuff. I’m assuming you’re state–of–the–art.”

“We are,” the same man said confidently.

“Then do like the lady told you and hit it hard,” Bagger said impatiently.

Leo sat in one corner of the room, his gaze resolutely on the other men. His job was to note any degree of suspicion or concern while Annabelle went through her spiel. It didn’t hurt matters that she was wearing a very clingy, short skirt, with no hose and a blouse with the top two buttons undone. Every guy in the room followed each glimpse of her upper thighs and cleavage. And if they were doing that, they weren’t thinking as clearly as they should have been. Annabelle Conroy, Leo had long ago learned, used every asset in her arsenal.

“The only form of acceptable communication will be through the secure Web portal contained in the e–mail. Under no circumstances will you use your phone or fax, both of which can be monitored. Correction,” she added, glancing at Bagger, “both of which are monitored.”

Bagger raised his eyebrows on that comment but said, “You heard the woman. Nothing but the Net.” Bagger was no doubt secure in his cooperation because he had an ace, or in this case, two aces in the hole. He would be holding Annabelle and Leo until his money came back.

“The e–mail will tell you where and how to send the funds. Two days later the funds will be automatically wired back to your account, plus the interest.”

“And one million becomes one point one million in a couple of days, right?” Bagger said.

Annabelle nodded. “Just like we said, Jerry. Not a bad payday.”

“It better be,” he said ominously. “When can we start?”

Annabelle checked her watch. “The e–mail should be coming over your system right about now.”

Bagger snapped his fingers, and one of his men checked the computer.

“Here it is,” the man said. He hit a few buttons. “I’m just running it through some extra security scans to make sure it’s clean.”

Two minutes went by, and then the IT guy looked up. “Okay, it’s good.”

“Open it,” Bagger ordered.

“You have your own money–wiring capabilities, right?” Annabelle asked, even though her careful background research had already provided the answer.

Bagger said, “Our system is piggybacked right onto the bank’s. I don’t like third parties controlling my money or necessarily knowing where my money’s going. The funds come from the bank right to us, and we send the wire out ourselves. That’s the way I like it.”

I like it too, Annabelle said to herself.

Ten minutes later $1 million of Jerry Bagger’s money was on its way to a very special account.

Leaving the office, Bagger said to Annabelle, “All right, you’re my ‘guest’ for the next forty–eight hours. Give us a chance to get to know each other better.” He smiled and let his gaze run up and down her long, lithe figure.

“Sounds good,” Annabelle said.

“Yeah, sounds good,” Leo added.

Bagger looked at Leo like he’d forgotten he was part of the deal. “Right,” he muttered.

Over the next two days they ate breakfast, lunch and dinner with Bagger. At all other times Bagger’s men stood outside their hotel rooms at the Pompeii and accompanied them wherever they went. Annabelle also sat up late into the night having drinks with the casino king, but expertly playing off his advances with just enough encouragement to allow the man to remain hopeful. She carefully let out facts of her “history,” with just enough held back to guarantee intrigue and continued interest. He talked a lot about himself, with all the bravado and conceit one would have expected from such a man.

“I think you would’ve made a good spy, Jerry,” she said admiringly as they relaxed on his couch over a couple of martinis. “You’ve got brains and nerve, that’s a rare combination.”

“Look who’s talking.” He slid closer to her, gave her thigh a pat. Then he tried to grab a quick kiss, but she turned away.

“Jerry, I could get into real trouble going down that road.”

“Who’s gonna tell? Look, we’re all alone. I know I’m not a spring chicken, but I work out every day, and I think I’ll surprise you between the sheets, baby.”

“Just give me some time. It’s not like I’m not attracted to you, but I’ve got a lot going on right now. Okay?” She gave him a peck on the cheek, and he finally backed off.