“I’d like to see one opened,” Everett said.
Gus moved to an adjacent door.
“No, I’d like to see Susan open one,” Everett stopped him.
“Oh, well, I really only have access to the safes on the opposite wall,” Susan said.
Everett shrugged. “That’ll work.”
Susan punched a code on the digital pad and put her palm flat on the screen. There was a deep click. She opened the door. Ivy saw the safe stacked, the boxes black plastic with a handle, like cheap luggage. She saw the legend on the top box.
“Uzi?” She faced Gus Beranger. “You’re an arms dealer?”
Susan’s eyes got big, her face paling. Everett tried to suppress a smirk. To her surprise, Beranger laughed.
“That’s a little dramatic. I’m a firearms importer. And believe you me, if you have the proper permits, these weapons are perfectly legal.”
Ivy gazed around the room with new vision. Gus answered her unasked question.
“That’s right, the majority of these safes hold guns that are heading out to dealers across the country. Plus, a few that may go to auction. Take this big ol’ pistol here.” Gus proudly indicated the long cowboy gun that had first caught Ivy’s attention. “War Between the States issue, Yankee Colt. Last one in this condition that came up at auction went for more than thirty K.”
Ivy shrugged, impressed. “Well, I guess you really do need a fancy vault like this. Thirty thousand dollars is a lot of money.”
“Oh, this is just a tiny part of the business. Hell, last year, I sold a Russian MiG-17, a Vietnam-era Huey, two bazookas, a flame thrower, and even a grenade launcher.” Beranger’s face fell a little. “No grenades, though. Not at two hundred dollars in tax per grenade.”
This was hard to believe. “You sell fighter jets and military helicopters?”
“Decommissioned, of course. Buyers will have to find their own missiles and such. I do have a line on several mountable machine guns,” Gus said with pride.
Everett cleared his throat and jumped in. “I’d like to see the vault secured.”
“Of course.” Gus gave everyone the eye, and they filed out of the vault. The guard in front planted his feet and pulled the massive door closed. It shut without a sound. Then, a clanging snap followed. Iron latches sealed the door. The guard resumed his pose.
They all stood looking at Everett, who tapped an index finger to his lips. After a moment, he spoke. “I’d like some time alone in the vault.”
“What for, Klein?” Franklyn said. “It’s obviously impregnable.”
“Obviously,” was all Everett said.
Gus gave the nod. The security guard punched a code in the blank screen, whispered something, and pressed his palm flat. Again, the metallic clang sounded. The guard spun the wheel and hauled the door back open.
“Okay, right there,” Everett stopped the man when there was just enough space to slip through. He angled his head at Ivy. They reentered the vault.
Everett set his briefcase on the island. “Something’s on your mind.”
“Yeah,” Ivy said. “Learning that Gus Beranger sells guns is like finding out that Walt Disney worked on the Manhattan Project.”
“The theft,” he said. Ivy expected him to take out some files, but instead, he took what looked like a big gray pencil case from under the elastic pocket.
Ivy thought it over. In the meanwhile, Everett popped open the box; produced small vials of powder and a puffy makeup brush. He was dusting for fingerprints, she realized.
“Well, given the security, I’d say on the one hand, it has to be an inside job.”
He walked to the inside of the heavy vault door and spun the brush against it. “Uh huh.”
“But there are cameras in here, a guard outside, and if there’s a computer keeping track of it, Beranger would know if anyone opened that particular safe.” Ivy watched him, fascinated.
“Which leads us where?”
“It could be that whoever took the tiara also had access to erase the information from the security computer,” Ivy said. “I mean, I guess. I don’t know about security stuff.”
Everett peeled some clear tape from a white backing. He pressed it against the inner side of the door. “That’s a pretty good assumption.”
Considering he was still collecting fingerprints from the door, Ivy thought her answer wasn’t all that compelling. “Still, the tiara hasn’t been seen since a year ago, at the last exhibition. There would be lots of data over a full year, entrances, exits, all those biometrics and passwords. With that much information to comb through, the thief would have plenty of time to make an escape.”
Everett re-stuck the tape to the backing. He put it in an envelope. After squinting and leaning close, he pulled another strip of tape. “That’s how you would do it.”
“What?”
“Think like a thief for a second,” Everett said.
“I’d find something easier to steal,” Ivy said. “Like gold from Fort Knox.”
He pulled another print and stuck it in another envelope. “Pretend. You’re an agent for the Spanish monarchy. They commissioned the thing, and they want it back. You get it how.”
“Is there still a Spanish monarchy?”
Everett gave her a withering stare.
Yeek! Okay, okay, she thought. “Well, I wouldn’t try to steal it from here. I mean, you’d have to get a job here, and work long enough to be trusted with the security. I guess an agent of the crown might have the time, but it seems like a lot of work. Really boring work if that poor security guard outside the door is any indication.”
“You learn to deal with boredom in the military,” Everett said. “Trust me. But the guards are only on the door for two hour shifts. The other one is patrolling the property.”
Ivy shrugged. “Which is weird, considering that this is a residential neighborhood.”
“Granted. You have another plan.”
“We broke into the Odditorium easily enough.” Ivy sighed, realizing she would always feel the sting of guilt. “I’m sure they have actual security during the True Treasures event. But it might be easier to get close to the tiara there.”
“A less controlled environment,” Everett agreed. “That’s where I’d do it, too.”
Chapter 6
Despite this statement, Klein took several more fingerprints. “Okay, let’s talk to some staff.”
“You’re going to leave all that black dust on the safe door?”
He shrugged. “There are cameras in here. The butler, Tanner, has access. Let him do his job.”
“Why take fingerprints at all?” Ivy asked. “The people who can get into the safes must be on file anyway.”
“Think about it. If you were doing something illegal in here, you’d close the door.”
Even with the cameras and all that security, Ivy nodded. She would. “Psychological.”
“Right. Given the weight of the door, unless you were up to something, you’d let the guard open and close it. So these prints belong to someone or someones who were likely doing something in secret.”