By A. J. Hartley
An imprecise museum's lifeless owner lies in a mystery room surrounded by way of one of many world's such a lot striking collections of Greek antiquities. just a valuable Mycenaean loss of life masks has been taken, in addition to the bones of a mythical hero proposal to exist in simple terms in historic fable. Looted via the Nazis, the treasures are nonetheless being sought by way of these whose goals of glory stay undefeated. The masks is an unprecedented discovery that might be a strength for devastating retribution within the fallacious arms. yet by the point museum curator Deborah Miller learns the reality, it can be too past due not just to avoid wasting herself--but to bare to the realm the striking mystery she's exposed.
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Additional info for The Mask of Atreus
I’ve never seen anything like it,” she said, frowning. ” “The swastika isn’t relevant,” he added after a moment. ” It was Keene’s turn to shoot his colleague a look, though Deborah wasn’t sure what it contained. Puzzlement? Doubt? Deborah opened her mouth to speak, but there was another tap on the door, brisker this time, followed by the appearance of one of the uniformed cops. “There’s a guy here to see Miss Miller,” he said. ” Deborah stared. She didn’t know any lawyer, didn’t even know Richard had had one, though she supposed he must have.
She set them down and pushed them toward the cops. She did not meet Deborah’s eyes or offer her anything. For a second Deborah considered requesting something, a full English breakfast, perhaps . . It might be worth it just to see the look on Tonya’s face. Ah yes. Humor. Your usual hidey-hole . . When Tonya had gone, Keene turned to Deborah and unfolded a piece of paper that looked like it had been sent by fax. ” he said. As Deborah swiveled to look at it, she caught a look on Cerniga’s face, a ﬂash of irritation and a moment of indecision.
As she saw it, she became aware that she could hear something too, distant and regular, a ringing. Realizing what it was, she hung up her cell phone. The sound stopped. Richard lived here, or in the adjoining building, at least, and had since the museum had been founded. Indeed, though everyone assumed the opposite, his house had preexisted the museum, the latter being built at his behest thirty-ﬁve years ago as his gift to the city. For almost two decades he ran the museum himself, but his considerable fortune and his equally considerable enthusiasm had not been enough, and in recent years he had handed the reins to a series of trained curators.