Silent Run

the building that had once been their sanctuary, their dream for the future, where the treasures of the past were turned into cold, hard cash.
    The cost of betrayal would be high. They would be brothers no more. But then, their ties had never been of blood, only of friendship -- a friendship that some would think had died this night of fire, but in truth had died much earlier.
    There was only one thing left to do, grab the dragons and their box of secrets. The back door offered an escape route. The wall of fire would prevent anyone from seeing the truth. No one would ever know who was responsible.
    The crate where the dragons were stored beckoned like the welcoming wave of an old friend. It took but a moment to pry off the lid. Eye-watering smoke and intense heat made it difficult to see what was inside, but it was impossible not to realize that something was missing.
    Only one dragon was inside! The other dragon was gone, as was the box. How could it be? Where were they? The three pieces were never to be separated. They all knew the importance of keeping them together.
    There was no time to search further. A door on the opposite side of the basement was flung open. A man holding a red fire extinguisher shot a small, helpless stream of chemicals at what was now a raging inferno.
    The fire could not be stopped, nor the future. It was done. For better or worse, the dragons would never dance together again.

Chapter One

    San Francisco -- Today

    "They say that dragons bring good luck to their owners," Nan Delaney said.
    Riley McAllister studied the dark bronze statue in his grandmother's hands. Ten inches tall, it appeared to be a dragon, although the figure looked more like a monster with its serpent body and dirty scales. Its brilliant green eyes blazed like real stones, but those eyes couldn't possibly be jade. Nor could the golden stripe that ran around its neck really be gold. As for luck, Riley had never believed in it before, and he didn't intend to start now. "If that dragon were lucky, we'd be at the front of this line," he grumbled.
    He cast a frustrated look at the people around them, at least a hundred he estimated. When he'd agreed to help his grandmother clear out her attic, he'd never imagined he'd be standing in the parking lot at the Cow Palace Arena in San Francisco early Monday morning with a bunch of people who wanted to have their trash appraised by a traveling antiques show.
    "Patience, Riley." Nan's voice still held a touch of her native Irish brogue even though she'd lived in California for sixty years.
    He frowned at his grandmother's perky smile, wondering where she got her energy. She was seventy-three years old, for God's sake. But then, she'd always been a pint-sized dynamo. Pretty, too, with her stark white hair that had been the same shade for as long as he could remember, and her pale blue eyes that always seemed to see straight into his soul.
    "Good things come to those who wait," she reminded him.
    Not in his experience. Good things came to those who sweated blood, pulled out all the stops, sacrificed everything, and never let sentiment cloud reason. "Why don't you let me sell this stuff on the Internet?" he suggested for the twentieth time.
    "And let someone take advantage of me? I don't think so."
    "What makes you think these people won't take advantage of you?"
    "Because Antiques on the Road is on television," she said with simple logic. "They can't lie in front of millions of people. Besides, this will be fun, a new experience. And you're a peach to come with me. The perfect grandson."
    "Yeah, I'm a peach, and you can stop the buttering up, because I'm already here."
    His grandmother smiled and set the dragon gently on top of the other treasures in the red Radio Flyer wagon she'd also found in the attic. She was convinced that somewhere in her pile of pottery, dolls, baseball cards and old books was a rare find. He thought she'd be lucky to get five dollars for everything in the wagon.
    A loud clattering noise drew his head around. "What the hell is that?" he asked in amazement as a tall man dressed in full armor lumbered toward the front of the line.
    "He looks like a knight in shining armor."
    "More like the tin man in need of a brain."
    "He probably thinks he has a better chance of getting on the show if he wears the armor. I wonder if we have anything interesting we could wear." She squatted next to the wagon and began digging through the pile.
    "Forget about it. I'm not