No Stone Unturned by Andrea Kane

Author:Andrea Kane [Kane, Andrea]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Calibre
Published: 2019-12-31T23:00:00+00:00

20

Niall paced around his living room, a glass of whiskey in his hand. It was his second since arriving home. He needed to be alone, to think, to clear his mind and come up with a strategy.

How much did Cobra know? Certainly not all that Niall did, not when he’d made a career out of studying the legends of Irish hoards. Those hoards were secreted treasures from centuries past, stolen or coveted, buried to be recovered later—a later that often never happened, leaving the hoards hidden and unclaimed. His fascination for them had increased as the years passed and he’d become a collector of ancient pieces of jewelry, coins, and other valuable artifacts. He read incessantly about them, following their history the way some people followed the stock market. He was well aware that the majority of the legends were just yarns passed down from generation to generation. Still, a large enough number had been recovered over the years—enough to make studying them both fascinating and purposeful.

Then came those two mind-blowing events that had taken place a year ago, one right after the other, too powerful to be coincidental.

The first occurred when he was browsing the streets of SoHo where an art fair was taking place. Everything from the works of small artisans to higher-priced works were on display. He never knew whether it was pure chance or divine providence that made him round the street corner and turn his head at that moment. But there, among the other canvas paintings, was the one he’d seen in Belfast.

His initial reaction was a knife in his gut, as the memories cut through him. But there was another, more overriding feeling, based on years of research and a knowledge that hadn’t been there before.

He didn’t take the time to scrutinize the details to ensure authenticity. Too risky. Someone else might purchase the painting and he couldn’t let that happen.

He’d bought it on the spot and brought it home, where he could look as he saw fit.

On the heels of his purchase came the second startling interaction.

He’d been having a Guinness at Quinn’s, minding his own business, when he’d heard a bunch of mates drinking at the bar, laughing and talking about some hoard that turned out to be nonexistent after countless people had spent decades turning their lives upside down trying to unearth it. The guys had all agreed that much of this hoard talk was a crock of shit, and they’d gone back to their drinking.

But at the far end of the bar was a weathered old sailor, drunk as a skunk, who kept muttering that they were wrong, that the hoard with the king’s treasures was real, that the Vikings had stolen it and buried it, that he knew it was true, that he knew the hoard was real, that someone had found it, taken it… He kept repeating the last part over and over, going on to mutter about spilled rubies and emeralds and diamonds, and Niall could have sworn he heard the word chalice slurred in the long string of phrases.

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