Page 28 of The Scarab's Game

He was a lean, impeccably dressed man in his early fifties. Keenly aware of the history of each piece in the De Rosa Gallery, he highlighted several Egyptian items while also mentioning a few Greek and Etruscan pieces—in case they caught my eye. He carried his tablet against his chest, glancing at it now and again, but only when he referred to buyers interested in purchasing something he recommended to me.

Considering how easily he rattled off the provenance of several pieces, it was clear he didn’t need to check the tablet for anything. He wasn’t simply a sales associate—he was a showman.

“Here we have the Egyptian blue scarab I told you about.”

It was less than an inch long, a small dome of pale blue dust compressed into a solid mass and then carved. It could almost have passed for turquoise.

“As I’m sure you know, the Egyptians considered scarabs a symbol of rebirth and transformation. They were believed toembody the god Khepri, who renewed the sun each day. Just as the beetles roll their dung balls across the land, so too did Khepri roll the sun across the sky.”

I nodded politely.

“This one dates to the twenty-sixth dynasty, and you’ll see…” Using his one gloved hand, he unlocked and opened the display case to withdraw the tiny item. He held it reverently in his palm, clear it was for me to inspect and not touch. “The top is carved to resemble the dung beetle, but the bottom is carved with—what our appraiser identified as—an epithet of the wind god, Amun.”

“Beautiful.” I watched as he turned it over to show me the underbelly and hummed in appreciation. “My client is looking for something in gold, though. A golden scarab would be better.”

“Egyptian gold?” He returned the blue scarab to its display case, between a set of five canopic jars and a beaded wesekh collar necklace in deep blue.

“Thatiswhat I’m hunting for.” The blue scarab was a beautiful work of art. However, it wasn’tthe artifact I was looking for. Either way, making a purchase could provide access to more items and might give me an excuse to enter the employee restroom. If neither Jean-Philippe nor the digital inventory produced the results I hoped for, Jayce would need me to plant the jammer for tonight. “Although, now that I think of it, I may have another client who’d find this one interesting.”

Jean-Philippe paused before locking the case, clearly encouraging me to continue.

“Before we discuss that…” I smiled, angling my gaze to his tablet. “You mentioned you have other pieces not on display?”

“Certainly.” He finished with the case and held the tablet away from his chest, tapping and swiping at it. “We have a few gold items from Egypt. You said your client was looking for one or more small pieces, though?”

“Smaller than my palm.” I held out my palm, measuring the length with the fingers of my opposite hand.

He continued scanning the tablet without turning it for me to see. “Budget?”

I chuckled. “Much larger than my palm.”

“We have a buyer’s room on the second floor.” He inclined his head toward the stairs and then led the way. “It’s more private.”

“Of course.” Hopefully, a private room would allow me to get my phone close enough to his tablet. It needed prolonged proximity for my sister to attempt hacking into the De Rosa inventory.

Behind a door at the top of the curved staircase up from the main floor, two antique damask sofas welcomed us. They faced each other across a long carved wooden table, where Jean-Philippe placed his tablet. “I believe this is closer to the right size and material?”

I sat opposite him and peered at the item the tablet displayed—a gold finger ring with a large flat top depicting two seated characters. “It is. Can I take a photo to send to my client?”

“Certainly.”

I nodded and pulled out my phone, tapping out a quick text to Brie:Putting my phone by the tablet. Do your best.

She replied with a thumbs up, and the text vanished. My younger sister controlled the software inside all our tech. The text and email apps were full of cover-appropriate messages, in case I was caught. While I was at the gallery, my phone was on an open communication protocol, so I could send her any details she needed, and she could wipe all traces immediately.

Jean-Philippe slid the tablet closer to me.

I snapped the image and placed the phone on the table, within the distance Brie needed. Rather than allowing Jean-Philippe to lift the tablet and interrupt whatever the team athome was doing, I studied the ring, pinching to zoom in on the photo. Swiping to view it from other angles. Reading the provenance.

My phone buzzed with an email notification. Absently, I glanced at it. My stockbroker was advising me of an opportunity he wanted to discuss.

Perfect.

That was the sign from Brie she was in.

“How much?” I continued scanning details, flipping between the images and text.

“Twenty-three thousand euros.”

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