"Katherine Kurtz - Adept 01 - The Adept" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kurtz Katherine)

it away. If he should call, you can confirm that for me. We can't have the thing collapsing any more, just when
I'm intending to start restoring it next spring."
"Indeed not, sir," Humphrey agreed. "I'll see to it." As the butler retreated to the kitchen, Adam helped himself
to toast and opened the paper to pages two and three. He skimmed over the first few headlines on the
left-hand page, not paying particularly close attention, until his gaze was arrested by another item, tucked
away in the lower right-hand column: Antique Sword Goes Missing.
The dark brows raised slightly as Adam bent for a closer look. As a connoisseur and sometime collector of
edged weaponry himself, such an article never failed to pique his interest. He scanned it once through,
quickly, then turned the paper inside-out and folded it in half to read the article again, while he sipped his tea,
trying to supply what the article did not say.
Lothian and Borders Police are investigating the disappearance of a historic sword from the museum in
Mossiecairn House, outside Edinburgh. The sixteenth-century Italian rapier, known as the "Hepburn Sword,"
has long been associated with Sir Francis Hepburn, the fifth Earl of Bothwell, who died in 1624. The sword is
presumed stolen, but the actual date of the theft is uncertain. Its disappearance was not noticed for several
days, owing to confusion on the part of museum staff, who were under the impression that the weapon had
been removed from its case for cleaning. The sword is valued at approximately ┬г2000. A reward is offered for
information leading to its recoveryтАж.
Adam sat back in his chair, lips pursed, dark brows drawn together in a deep frown. Though he told himself
that his interest came of the subject matter in general, some sixth sense insisted that this story almost
certainly reflected more than met the eye. Taking a pen from beside his appointment book, he drew a circle
around the entire article. Then he reached around behind him and leaned back in his chair to snare the
telephone off a side-table next to the settee.
The number of the Lothian and Borders Police in Edinburgh was a familiar one. He dialled swiftly, identified
himself, and asked to speak with Detective Chief Inspector Noel McLeod. There was a short delay while the
police operator transferred the call to Press Liaison. Then a familiar, bass voice rumbled in his ear.
"Is that you, Sir Adam? Good morning. What can I do for you?"
"Good morning, Noel. I've just been casting my eye over the morning paper. If you've got a moment, I'd like a
word with you concerning one of the items on page two of The Scotsman."
"Oh, aye?" The voice on the other end of the line sounded anything but surprised. "I suppose that'll be the
piece about the Hepburn Sword."
"You seem quite certain it wasn't the report on the latest sighting of the Loch Ness Monster," Adam said,
smiling. "Monster sightings," said McLeod, "are five pence a dozen. And you wouldn't be phoning me, you'd
be phoning the constabulary up at Inverness. On the other hand, the theft of a sword that once belonged to
Sir Francis Hepburn might well be of interest to you - given the good earl's reputation."
"As a wizard?" Adam replied, careful to phrase his next words with suitable ambiguity, just in case anyone
should chance to listen in. "I know of no reason," he said ingenuously, "to dispute with tradition on that
account."
There was just the slightest of hesitations on the other end of the line, before McLeod replied, "I see."
"As a collector of edged weaponry myself," Adam went on, "I was disappointed that the newspaper account
was so thin on detail. It's a beautiful sword. Can you supply any additional information?"
McLeod made a noise between a growl and a snort, back now on more neutral ground.
"I wish I could," he said. "We've got two good men assigned to the case, but they've not got much to show for
their pains. One thing's for certain: it wasn't a conventional theft. Nothing else in the place was lifted - not so
much as a silver spoon."
"Which means," Adam replied, "that the thief was after the sword, and that alone. Was it an amateur job?"
"Most definitely not," McLeod said emphatically. "Quite the reverse. Our jolly thief disarmed the security
alarms at the back of the house and then avoided the hall sensors by going through the dining room and
picking the lock on the connecting doors. We figure he must have visited the house at least once to case it,
so we're following that lead, to see if any of the staff remembers anyone suspicious."
His sigh conveyed a world of exasperation.