Rarities Unlimited 02 - Running Scared

said, replacing it. “The destruction was probably deliberate and happened when the brooch originally was buried or thrown into water.”
    Niall opened his mouth to ask why something should be broken before it was buried or offered to a god. Then he caught Dana’s slicing, impatient look and shut his mouth. There was no need to know. Not for him. It was enough that Risa knew.
    Besides, he could always ask her later.
    “Two of the remaining brooches are similarly broken.” Risa skimmed three pieces with her fingertips. “These small armlets are from a later time, after the Romans began to influence British Celtic styles. They appear to be solid gold.” She picked them up one after another and weighed them in her palm. “Not hollow. Again, the technique is frankly crude. It lacks the polish of the Mediterranean goldsmiths who came with the Romans to Britain. Nor do the pieces have the sheer . . . well, presence that the best of the Celtic goldsmiths gave their work.”
    “Define ‘presence,’ “ Shane said.
    Her first thought was that he should know all about presence. He certainly had more than his share of it. “It isn’t definable. If it’s there, you feel it. If it isn’t . . .” She shrugged.
    He started to ask another question, only to be cut off by his employee.
    “I’ll discuss it with you later if you wish,” Risa said, “but until then, try looking in the mirror.” At Shane’s surprised expression, her chin came up defiantly. “Men. Merde. ”
    Dana’s laugh was as smoothly tenor as her voice. “Anything else you want to add for the recorders?”
    Red flared briefly on Risa’s wide-set cheekbones as she remembered that every word and gesture was going into digital storage. “The overall crudeness, simplicity, and fragmentary condition of the pieces make me inclined to say that they aren’t forgeries. They’re just not good enough to generate the kind of interest and money that pay forgers for their skill, time, and materials.”
    “Would you be willing to put a verbal, nonbinding value on the collection if sold as a whole?”
    “Are these being represented as a single trove found at the same place and time?”
    “No,” Dana said.
    “In that case the value is considerably less.”
    “My client is aware of that.”
    “At this point, and assuming that the provenance is very good, I don’t see more than seventy-five to a hundred and fifty thousand dollars in the whole lot. There’s little in these pieces to lure a major museum. If you find a jewelry collector whose interest lies exclusively in Celtic gold work, you might get more money.” Her vivid, dark blue gaze pinned Shane. “Collectors are an unpredictable lot. They pay whatever it’s worth to them.”
    Shane’s smile was all hard, gleaming teeth.
    Niall coughed as he closed the case, exchanged it for the other spun-aluminum box and returned to the group at the table. The new box was half the size of the first. He opened the lid and turned the case toward Risa.
    She sensed the stillness that came over Shane. She glanced at him and saw nothing different in his expression.
    Yet she knew he had decided to buy the piece even before he heard his own expert’s opinion of it.
    Merde.
    She really hated when that happened.
    At least this was an artifact she would be proud to have in the Golden Fleece’s collection of gold objects. Always assuming the artifact wasn’t a fraud or had the kind of cobbled-together provenance that screamed of blood and theft. If the provenance was suspect, she and her boss would be in for some yelling matches. Her idea of solid provenance was too rigid, according to Shane. A lot of auction houses would agree with him.
    Risa’s childhood and youth were so spotted she required the cleanest of artifacts. Shane’s background was of the driven-snow variety, which made him more tolerant.
    He had never been caught red-handed with something he didn’t legally own.
    She shoved aside the unhappy memories of her childhood as an Arkansas orphan and concentrated on the artifact in front of her. There was an integrity to the piece that transcended whatever guilty or greedy souls might have owned it in the past.
    “Visual only, or may I handle this?” she asked.
    “Same as the other lot,” Dana said.
    Risa smiled even as she shook her head slowly. “No, this is very different from the other lot. This has presence.”
    Shane gave her a sideways look.
    She ignored him and concentrated on the torc.