Sidney Sheldon's Chasing Tomorrow (Tracy Whitney #2)(9)

“Show them into the Special Exhibitions Reading Room,” said Jeff, replacing the Mercian coin in its glass case and locking the display. “It’s the little room right next to the Great Russell Street entrance. I’ll give them a run-through of their duties next week and you can help me take questions.”

“Really?” Rebecca’s eyes lit up.

“Sure, why not? You already know more about Saxon burial sites than I do.”

“Thanks, Jeff!”

She skipped delightedly out of the room, her long ponytail swishing behind her, but a few seconds later she was back. “Oh. I forgot to mention. Your wife is here to see you.”

“Tracy’s here?” Now it was Jeff’s turn to light up.

“Yes. I heard her asking for you at the desk in the Great Court. I said you’d be right down.”

TRACY GAZED UP AT the vast, modern, glass-domed ceiling of Lord Foster’s Great Court with a combination of awe and surprise. Shamefully after all her years in London, she’d never been to the British Museum and had always pictured it as a grand, Victorian building, similar to the three South Kensington landmarks: the Natural History Museum, the Science Museum and the Victoria and Albert Museum.

In fact, as the leaflet she was now reading explained, the British Museum was actually pre-Victorian, although much of its present-day architecture was aggressively modern. At two acres, the Great Court in which Tracy now stood was the largest covered public space in Europe. But it led into numerous older wings within a vast Bloomsbury complex. Founded in 1753, the British Museum was the first national public museum in the world. Sir Hans Sloane, the famous naturalist and collector, bequeathed more than seventy-one thousand objects, including books, manuscripts and antiquities such as coins, medals and prints, to King George II for the nation, providing the basis of the museum’s collection. Today it housed eclectic collections of treasures from around the globe, from Chinese ceramics to ancient Egyptian tomb relics to medieval manuscripts and Anglo-Saxon jewelry. Tracy thought, No wonder Jeff fell in love with this place. Talk about a kid in a candy store.

“Baby! What a wonderful surprise.”

Jeff snuck up on her from behind. Tracy closed her eyes as his arms encircled her waist, pulling her into his body. He smelled of Penhaligon’s cologne, his signature scent and one that Tracy had always adored. I’m so lucky, so very lucky to have him.

“What brings you here?”

“Nothing, really,” Tracy lied. “I guess I was just curious to see the place.”

“Impressive, isn’t it?” Jeff sounded as proud as if he’d built the museum himself.

“It is. It’s beautiful,” said Tracy. “So’s that girl you work with,” she added archly.

“Rebecca? Is she? I hadn’t really noticed.”

Tracy laughed loudly. “This is me you’re talking to, honey. We’ve met before, remember?”

“I’m serious,” said Jeff. “You know I only have eyes for you. Although I must say I’m touched that you’re jealous.”

“I am not jealous!”

“Come with me.” Jeff took her hand. “I wanna show you what we’re working on.” His fingers felt warm and strong around Tracy’s. Maybe I am a bit jealous.

He led her into a small anteroom. The girl Tracy had met earlier, Rebecca, was inside, along with a group of about twelve women and a smattering of men, all in their sixties and seventies. Three rows of chairs had been arranged in front of an old-fashioned slide projector, which was beaming images of what looked like gold weaponry and utensils onto the screen at the far end of the room.

“We’re about to open a brand-new exhibition of Saxon burial treasure,” Jeff whispered in Tracy’s ear. “This stuff was all found under a parking lot somewhere in Norfolk. It’s the most complete royal gravesite from the period that’s ever been found. Absolutely unique.”


“Is that vase solid gold?” Tracy stared at the latest image on the screen, a gleaming, two-handled vase almost a foot tall.

Jeff nodded.

“Jesus Christ. How much must that be worth?”

“It’s priceless,” said Jeff.

Tracy frowned. “Nothing’s priceless. I mean it, I’m curious. How much would a private collector pay for something like that?”

“I don’t know. A helluva lot. There’s more than a million pounds’ worth of gold there, even if you melted the thing down. But as an irreplaceable piece of history?” He shrugged. “Two or three million? I’m guessing.”

Tracy whistled. “Wow.” She glanced around as the old biddies finished their plastic cups of tea and began to sit down. “Who are the granny brigade?” she whispered in Jeff’s ear.

“They’re the volunteers. They’re going to run the exhibition. They help catalog the treasures, man the admissions desk and give guided tours. I’m about to give them an introductory lecture.”

“Are you kidding me?” Tracy looked shocked. “You leave amateurs in charge of millions of dollars’ worth of gold?”

“They’re well-informed amateurs,” said Jeff. “Hell, I’m an amateur.”

“Yeah, but if someone grabs that vase and makes a run for it, at least you can run after them. What are this bunch gonna do? Throw their walkers?”