The Mirror

Chapter 3: An Unexpected Valentine

Neal's loft. Sunday morning.

"More champagne?" Neal asked.

Not waiting for an answer, he picked up Fiona's champagne glass. They were enjoying a leisurely breakfast. The blue sky outside reflected his own mood. They were still in their robes. Fiona's blond hair, tousled from the night, looked like spun gold against her peach silk kimono.

"What's in the champagne?" Fiona asked. "That raspberry flavor is elegant."

"It's called a Kir Imperial—I added a dash of Chambord liqueur."

"It's wonderful, and the color is exquisite. Trust an artist to make such an aesthetically pleasing cocktail." She stretched her arms out behind her back. "This was a fantastic idea to celebrate Valentine's Day on the weekend. I feel very pampered."

"That was my intention. I'm gratified to hear I succeeded." Returning with the cocktails, he clinked glasses with her. "What should we plan for the following weekend?"

"How about the new exhibit at the Met—Love Letters from a Pharaoh? Do you think the crowds will have died down enough that we can get in?"

"We could try for next Saturday." The exhibit was centered around a gold and silver mirror that had recently been discovered by a team of archaeologists in the Valley of the Kings in Egypt. Based on its inscription, they believed it had been given by Tutankhamun to his queen, Ankhesenamun. A love poem was inscribed on the back of the mirror. The spectacular find caused a renewed furor of interest in the boy king and his young wife. Also on display were several other objects belonging to King Tut, including a small golden shrine and jewelry. The shrine, an exceptional treasure in its own right, was called a love letter in gold from the pharaoh to his queen because of the informal scenes of the couple depicted in raised relief on its sides.

"Let's pencil it in," she said. "Weatherby's has an auction scheduled for that afternoon, but I don't think I'll have to work that day." Fiona's hours at Weatherby's were almost as demanding as Neal's at the FBI. He'd lost track of how many times over the past few months they'd had to reschedule a date. "Sara's arriving today. She'll be in town for the next few weeks, as well as Weatherby's top brass from London and Paris."

Sara was representing Sterling-Bosch on the advisory panel Weatherby's had set up to review its authentication procedures. Her company suffered a major embarrassment when its authenticator failed to detect the Corot forgery. Fiona had become acquainted with Sara last fall and the two were good friends. Neal found it somewhat ironic that Fiona now saw Sara much more frequently than he did.

Fiona sliced into her eggs Benedict. "The three of us should go out some evening, but it will probably be very last minute. My schedule is very unpredictable these days. I hope I'll still be able to attend my classes. What's your schedule like? Any undercover missions I should worry about?"

"Paper cuts are the only thing to fear for the next several weeks ... unless something comes up to relieve the tedium of office routine."

"Good. You need a chance to let your ribs recover." She frowned. "Those bruises look horrific. You say they're not that painful, but I can't believe it."

"They didn't interfere with last night, did they?" The kaleidoscope of bruises on his chest from last week's misadventure on Lynx Mountain had faded to a marbled purple and green. They made him look like he'd been caught by a Mardi Gras paint gun. Little wonder that Fiona was dismayed at the sight.

She shook her head. "No, but it makes me uneasy about what goes on during those supposedly non-dangerous stings you're on."

"What happened last week was not at all typical. We caught the bad guy and that's what matters. Now, tell me more about Paris."