Page 7 of It takes a Psychic

At Tripp’s command, the attendants removed the cloth. Whispers of surprise followed by astonishment swept across the audience. She did not blame the onlookers for being startled by the sight of the seemingly unimpressive artifact. She was, too.

At first glance it looked like a solid brick of opaque blue-green glass. Approximately ten inches long, perhaps six inches wide, and three inches tall, the object reflected light in a way that made it difficult to see the subtle wavelike pattern in the stone.

Not a glass brick,she thought.A glass box. And not just any box.

A thrill of knowing dazzled her senses. Fortunately her back was turned to the audience. That gave her a few seconds to get her expression under control.

“Well, Dr. Griffin?” Tripp prompted.

She made a show of walking slowly around the pedestal, examining the relic from all sides, giving herself another moment to decide just how much to say. She was fairly certain that the individual who had submitted the box knew its true value. She had to assume the Society’s experts hadalso identified it, so there was no point trying to pretend it was an unimpressive artifact.

“A most unusual object,” she said in her best lecturing tones. “Old World origin, not Alien, of course.”

Tripp’s eyes glittered with anticipation.

“Can you offer any further information on the object?” he prompted.

He sounded impatient. That confirmed her conclusion—the higher-ups in the Society were well aware of the true value of the box. There was no point finessing her professional opinion.

She turned to face the audience. Time to go for the drama. That was, after all, what everyone wanted from her.

“I must congratulate the Society,” she said. “Candidate Number Five has presented you with a truly remarkable Old World artifact, the object known as Pandora’s box. Circa the early twenty-first century, Old World date.” She smiled a cool smile. “Not the box of the ancient myth, of course. This is most certainly an example of human engineering, but it is a legend in its own right.”

Stunned shock froze the audience for a couple of beats. But Tripp’s expression was one of cool satisfaction.

“Nice work, Professor,” he said under the cover of applause.

“It belongs in a museum,” she snapped.

“Agreed. Don’t worry, it will be safe inside the Society’s vault.”

“Where no one except members of the Society can see it or study it.”

Tripp pretended he hadn’t heard her.

“Can we discuss provenance?” she asked sweetly.

Tripp ignored her again.

While she waited for the crowd to settle down, she glanced toward the side of the stage, looking for Oliver. She was interested to see how he was taking her verdict.

He was nowhere in sight.

She heightened her talent again, trying to pick him out of the throng of excited people near the stage. He was not in the vicinity. He truly had vanished.

It occurred to her that a smart thief would probably take advantage of the distraction caused by the crowd’s excitement to return to the gallery and help himself to whatever he wanted to steal. That, she thought, was what she would have done—if she were an antiquities thief.

Considering the fact that many of the items in the Society’s museum had been acquired under suspicious circumstances, she felt no obligation to alert Tripp or the security guards.

Tripp took charge of the room, gradually bringing things under control.

“Thank you for confirming the analysis of our in-house experts, Dr. Griffin. The Society is delighted to accept the Old World object known as Pandora’s box into our collection, and Candidate Number Five is hereby admitted to our organization.”

“Happy to have been of service,” Leona said through her teeth.

She turned to make her way off the stage. She had done her job. Now she could go home. For some ridiculous reason she found herself wondering where Oliver Rancourt called home. Common sense warned her that it was probably not a good idea to indulge her curiosity about him, but curiosity was one of her defining personality traits. Everyone in her family said so.

“One moment, please, Professor,” Tripp said. “We’re not quite finished.”

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