Chapter 53

On the train back into London, Dana filled Beau in on the layout of the warehouse and reminded him of the items she'd suggested he appear interested in purchasing. Finally out of things to talk about, she placed a quick cell call to her brother in Philadelphia. "Someone should know where we're going," she told Beau as she dialed. "Just in case something stupid happens."
Nothing had better happen, not on his watch. As Dana talked, though, he saw her eyes go wide.
"Really? Oh that's awesome. Call me as soon as you can. Give Twyla a kiss for me."
She hung up and turned to Beau, slightly dazed. "My sister-in-law is in labor," she said. "By the time I get back to Philadelphia, I'll be an aunt."
"Then we'll have to get you back as quickly as possible," he said. Her joy was too infectious not to make him smile. He leaned down to whisper in her ear. "I'm curious to meet a quarter-dragon-half pixie myself."
Dana giggled. "No kidding. Wonder what his wings are going to look like?"
"It's a boy, then?" Talking about her new nephew helped ease the pressure that had been building as they neared the warehouse.
"That's what Twyla's mother said when they visited her. I know her majesty wasn't too thrilled about a non-pixie son-in-law but she's apparently over the moon about her grandson. She even sent her court midwife to deliver the baby."
Court? He hadn't realized the pixie was royalty. Now he had yet another source of research information if he ever had the chance to continue his paranormal anthropology studies.
He dragged up a few stories of his own nephew's antics to amuse and distract Dana as they approached their destination. The cab ride from the station to the warehouse passed in a blur and in what seemed like moments, they stood on the steps. Beau squeezed Dana's hand one last time before he opened the door and followed her inside.
"Hello, John." Dana allowed the other man to kiss her cheeks and Beau had to stifle his urge to smash the human's pretty face. Instead, he took just a little pleasure in squeezing the man's hand when they shook.
Fortunately, Saville was too much of a salesman to allow his discomfort to show. "Glad you could make it," he told them. Turning to Beau, he tipped his head in polite inquiry. "Dana says medieval objects are your favorites. Shall we start there?"
Warehouse was a misnomer, as Dana had warned Beau. The perhaps five-story, square building was climate controlled and equipped with a high-end security system, probably loaded with all the bells and whistles. Subtle recessed lighting lined the walls and soft antique carpets cushioned their feet while cameras followed their every move. More than a mere showroom, the place was a fucking fortress.
They followed a wide corridor back from the reception area into the depths of the building. Paintings graced the walls and Beau paused to admire a small Degas and a Picasso sketch among the other treasures. Occasional niches held sculptures of equal quality and value.
They turned a corner into a large room with a vaulted ceiling. This was the medieval display. Tapestries adorned three walls, interspersed with icons and painted wood panels. In the center of the far wall hung an impressive display of shields, swords and maces.
In the center of the room stood a wooden trestle table, surrounded by mismatched chairs, the styles of many lands and eras. In the center of the table was a pair of ornate silver goblets, only slightly dented from centuries of use.
"Yes, I can see why you thought I would be interested," Beau said. Ignoring the weapons, he stepped over to the table and tipped his head at Saville. "May I?"
"Be my guest." There were no price tags, of course but Beau knew enough to guess the goblets would run to five figures. At that price, one had to expect the buyer to examine the merchandise.
"What's the provenance?" It bothered him to know these could be stolen items. He lifted one of the goblets by its stem, taking in the weight of the silver and the lines of the design.
"Thirteenth century, probably Italian," Saville replied.
That was consistent with the grape-leaf pattern engraved on the bowl of the cup. Of course it didn't mention a thing about recent ownership history. Beau set the goblet down and nodded at Dana. "Which tapestry did you want me to look at?"
Dana pointed at the wall to the left of the door. "That one. The others are nice but fairly ordinary. This one is twelfth century Flemish and the subject matter is unusual."
Beau followed her over to the tapestry. About six feet across and maybe eight feet tall, it was smaller than the others but the colors had survived well and there was very little damage around the edges. The scene was of a small stone chapel in a wooded glen - surrounded by gargoyles. Not just sitting on the roof, though a couple were. A few stood chatting on the stone steps and in the grassy glade as well. Beau suppressed a laugh and again nodded to Dana. For her ears only, he whispered, "I know what the matriarch is getting for her birthday this year. This has to hang in the great hall."
Under the watchful eye of Saville, Beau strolled around the room with Dana, inspecting the chairs, the swords and other odds and ends. He added one sword and a chest to his tab, then turned to Saville. "I don't suppose you have any jewelry? My mother is particularly fond of any medieval decorative bits."
"We might." Saville was practically salivating at the magnitude of the sale and Beau could see the numbers adding up in his brain. "I have a colleague, a silent partner, who handles a very limited amount of the really high-end stuff. I can get in touch with him and see if he has anything in stock at the moment that might suit."
"That would be great."