Wildest Hearts

throat again. “The thing is, I don't think we have too much information on the guys who own it. I've met both of them. They seem okay.”

    Oliver eyed him coldly. “Didn't Daniel maintain files on the people he dealt with?”

    “Notpersonal files.” Barry looked aghast. “Why would he? We've got a fair amount of financial information, naturally, but not what you'd call personal stuff. I think maybe Featly's married, if that helps.”

    “Not much.” Oliver was irritated. Daniel had worked for him long enough to know the value of gathering background information on the people with whom one did business.

    “I don't know what else I can offer you.” Barry pushed his glasses higher on his nose. “I guess I could try making some phone calls.”

    “Never mind. I'll take care of it.” Oliver walked back to his desk and sat down. “Contact Featly and Moss. Tell them I'm flying down to see them this week. Let's make it Thursday. Have Mrs. Jameson make the travel arrangements.”

    “Right.” Barry backed toward the door. “Anything else, Mr. Rain?”

    “No.” Oliver picked up the report he had been reading. He waited until the door closed before he put the report back down and reached for the phone. He dialed the private number of his penthouse.

    “Rain residence,” Bolt said in his machinelike voice.

    “Bolt, I want you to track down whatever you can on a couple of Lyncroft suppliers named Featly and Moss. I'll fax what I've already got on them to you in a minute. It's not much, just some financial and accounting data. For some reason Daniel Lyncroft doesn't keep any useful files of personal information on people like this.”

    “Yes, sir.”

    “There isn't much time. I'm going down to California to see Featly and Moss the day after tomorrow. Just get me whatever you can between now and when I leave. You can fill me in when you drive me to the airport.”

    “Yes, sir.”

    “I only expect to be gone overnight.” Oliver paused. “Try not to get into any major skirmishes with Mrs. Rain while I'm away.”

    “Understood, sir.” If Bolt saw any humor in the remark, he managed to conceal the fact admirably.

    Oliver hung up the phone and sat quietly for a moment, contemplating the notion of having Annie waiting for him when he came back from a business trip.

    It was a pleasant thought. Something to look forward to in fact. For the past few years, ever since he had achieved his financial objectives, he had not really had a lot of events in his life that he could anticipate with a sense of genuine pleasure. Since he had met Annie, he found himself looking forward to something besides watching ferns grow.

    Annie studied the museum poster hanging behind Valerie's desk. It showed a photograph of a savage-looking feline deity carved in sheet gold. The title of the Eckert Museum's upcoming exhibition was printed boldly across the top of the poster, The Golden Jaguar: A Survey of Pre-Columbian Gold.

    “Very impressive,” Annie said, admiring the poster. “I wouldn't mind having him in my shop.”

    “I doubt if very many of your customers could afford him,” Valerie said dryly. “The piece is practically priceless.”

    “The workmanship is certainly sophisticated looking. How old is it?”

    “The jaguar is Chavin,” Valerie said impatiently. “It dates from around 800B.C. And you're right, the workmanship is very sophisticated. Better than anything that was being done in Europe at that time. Pre-Columbian craftsmen were absolute masters.”

    “I hadn't realized they had worked with gold.”

    “They certainly did,” Valerie said. “In fact the Aztecs called gold the excrement of the gods.”

    “No shit,” Annie murmured.

    Valerie gave her a sharp glance.

    “The Golden Jaguar is going to be an impressive exhibit,” Annie continued politely. She glanced around the room at the jumble of books and photographs that were spread out on every available surface.

    The pictures showed exquisitely carved golden ornaments, headbands, vessels, and figurines. All combined the elements of savagery and sophistication that had been captured so perfectly in the golden jaguar in the poster.

    “Pre-Columbian art is my area of expertise.” Valerie toyed with a pencil in her hand. Her eyes were troubled. “The exhibit opens in less than two weeks. Right now I'm preparing for the preview.”

    “Who gets to go to the preview?” Annie asked quickly.

    “Anyone who has given over ten