Homeport

you’ve had a difficult night. Are you going to run into anyone you know here?”
    “Of course not.”
    “Exactly. We need to eat, and we need to talk.” He set his menu down and shot a smile at their waitress when she came over, pad in hand. “I’ll go for the half-stack of hot-cakes, eggs over easy, and side of bacon, please.”
    “You got it, cap’n. How ’bout you, honey?”
    “I. . .” Resigned, Miranda squinted and scanned the menu in search of something nonlethal. “Just the, um, oatmeal. Do you have skim milk for that?”
    “I’ll see what I can do, and be back to you in a jiff.”
    “Okay, let’s outline our situation,” Ryan continued. “Three years ago you acquired a small bronze statue of David. My research indicates this came through your father, from a private dig outside of Rome.”
    “Your research is correct. The majority of the finds were donated to the National Museum in Rome. He brought the David home for the Institute. For study and authentication, and display.”
    “And you studied it, you authenticated it.”
    “Yes.”
    “Who worked with you?”
    “Without my notes I can’t be sure.”
    “Just try to picture it.”
    “It was three years ago.” Because her mind was fuzzy, she tried the coffee. It was like sipping lightning. “Andrew, of course,” she began. “He was very fond of that piece. It appealed to him. I think he might have done sketches of it. My father was in and out of the lab, checking the progress of the testing. He was pleased with the results. John Carter,” she added, rubbing an ache in the center of her forehead. “He’s lab manager.”
    “So he’d have had access to it. Who else?”
    “Almost anyone working in the lab during that period. It wasn’t a priority project.”
    “How many work in the lab?”
    “Anywhere from twelve to fifteen, depending.”
    “All of them have access to the files?”
    “No.” She paused as their breakfasts were served. “Not all the assistants and techs would have keys.”
    “Trust me, Miranda. Keys are overrated.” He flashed that smile again as he topped off their coffee. “We’ll assume that anyone who worked in the lab had access to the files. You’ll need to get a list of names from personnel.”
    “Will I really?”
    “You want to find it? You’ve got a three-year time span,” he explained. “From the time you authenticated the piece until I relieved you of the forgery. Whoever replaced it had to have access to the original to make the copy. The smartest, simplest way to do that would be to make a silicon mold, a wax reproduction from that.”
    “I imagine you know all about forgeries,” she said with a sniff, as she spooned up oatmeal.
    “Only what a man in my field—fields—needs to know. You’d need the original to make the mold,” he continued, so obviously unoffended she wondered why she bothered to snipe at him. “The most efficient way to do that would be to make it while the bronze was still in the lab. Once it’s displayed, you’ve got to get around security—and yours is pretty good.”
    “Thank you so much. This isn’t skim milk,” she complained, frowning at the little pitcher the waitress had brought with the oatmeal.
    “Live dangerously.” He dashed salt on his eggs. “Here’s how I see it. Someone in the lab at that time saw the way your tests were leaning. It’s a nice little piece, one a collector would pay a fair price for. So this person, maybe he has debts or he’s pissed off at you or your family, maybe he’s just decided to try his luck. He makes the mold some night. It’s not a complicated process, and he’s already in a lab. Nothing easier. If he doesn’t know how to cast it himself, he certainly knows someone who does. More, he knows how to make the bronze appear to be, on the surface, several centuries old. When it’s done, he switches the pieces—likely just before it’s moved to display. Nobody’s the wiser.”
    “It couldn’t have been done on impulse. It takes time, it takes planning.”
    “I’m not saying it was impulse. But it wouldn’t have taken that much time, either. How long was the bronze in the lab?”
    “I don’t know for sure. Two weeks, maybe three.”

    “More than enough.” Ryan gestured with a slice of bacon before biting it. “If I were you, I’d run tests on some of my other pieces.”
    “Others?” She didn’t know why it hadn’t occurred to her, not when it hit her now with such force. “Oh