Played Read Free Page B

tingle. She felt hot and a little dizzy. She really should have eaten something earlier in the day. She reached up to touch the necklace, to adjust the chain, and was shocked when the weight of the stone suddenly slipped away.
    She gasped as Howard caught the diamond necklace with a deft hand. Their eyes met.
    “It’s a sign,” he murmured. “Be careful, Christina. Be very careful.”
    Out of the corner of her eye she saw the security guard walking quickly in her direction, and she realized that she needed to reclaim the necklace. “May I have it back, please?”
    “Of course.”
    As the professor handed the diamond back to her, a scream rang through the room, followed by shouts of “Fire!” She closed her fingers tightly around the stone as thick gray smoke poured into the room.
    The crowd immediately swarmed toward the gallery doors, knocking over tables and chairs and sweeping Christina along in the chaos. Her eyes began to water, and her chest tightened as she struggled to breathe. She clutched the diamond in her hand, praying that she wouldn’t lose it, but no one seemed interested in the jewel anymore. Even Professor Keaton had disappeared. She had once been the center of attention, but now the crowd’s focus was on escape.
    The panic in the room increased with each passing moment, and she could understand why. The smoke and the screams were disorienting. She couldn’t see two feet in front of her. Out of nowhere J. T. McIntyre suddenly appeared at her side, his hand on her arm. “Give me the diamond,” he said sharply.
    She hesitated, reluctant to let the stone out of her hand. She didn’t know this man. He could be anyone. He could be a jewel thief impersonating an FBI agent. It wasn’t just her job on the line; it was her reputation, the new life she had built for herself. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—let it all come tumbling down. “I don’t think so. I don’t know you.”
    “We don’t have time to argue. You can trust me.”
    “How can I do that? You could be that thief you were telling me about, the one who wears disguises.” She coughed again, tears streaming down her face.
    To make matters worse the sprinklers went off, soaking them with water. Within seconds her evening gown clung to her body like a second skin.
    “I’m here to protect you and that diamond,” J.T. shouted.
    “I’m hanging on to it just the same,” she said with determination.
    “Then hold on tight, because we’re getting out of here.”
    J.T. didn’t let go of her arm until they reached the doors. Halfway down the stairs, several firemen passed them on their way up to the gallery. Christina hoped they could stop the fire before the collection was lost. The glass cases offered some protection, and as soon as the smoke alarms went off the wall coverings had moved into place to guard the paintings from any water or smoke damage. But if the building went up in flames, nothing anyone could do would save the collection.
    Russell Kenner, Barclay’s head of security, and Luigi Murano, his Italian counterpart who had traveled from Italy to watch over the Benedetti collection, met them by the front door along with a half dozen security guards, who immediately surrounded Christina and ushered her away from the mass of people exiting the building.
    They moved into the empty showroom on the ground floor, and Christina took a breath of blessed relief. Kenner, an ex-marine who still wore his short brown hair in a military cut, barked orders into a transmitter in his hand. Murano, a stocky, volatile Italian, waved his hands in the air, proclaiming the evening a disaster.
    “Shouldn’t we be getting out of the building?” Christina asked.
    “The smoke appears to be confined to the main gallery,” Russell replied. “Initial reports indicate that smoke bombs were set off in the heating and air-conditioning vents.”
    “What? You mean there’s no fire?” Her stomach began to churn. If someone had set the smoke bombs, there