The Lost Treasure of the Templars by James Becker Read Free Book Online

could see almost nothing inside the opening. For a few moments, she held the object in her hands, considering it. She shook it, but as far as she could tell it was empty. Certainly nothing inside it rattled or moved, and it weighed about what she would have expected, assuming it was basically an iron or steel mechanism inside the leather binding.
    She needed a flashlight of some sort, and strangely enough, the best one for the job was probably the cheap and tiny battery-powered LED light attached to her car key ring. The light was sold as an aid to locating a keyhole in the dark, which was never necessary with modern cars because of the remote central locking system they all possessed, but she had found it useful on a number of occasions when trying to insert her Yale key into the back door of the shop. The beam wasn’t particularly powerful, but it was bright and well focused, and that was what she needed.
    The keys to her Volkswagen Golf were in a shallow ceramic dish on the narrow hall table, which stood at the end of the passageway next to the door to her apartment, behind which a circular flight of metal stairs led down the outside of the building to the single-car parking space and the rear door of the shop. It was the work of just a few seconds for her to step into the passage, collect the keys, and return to her desk.
    But when she sat down, she didn’t immediately do anything, just sat in thought for perhaps a minute, because before she went any further she definitely needed to contact William Stevens. At that moment, the object still belonged to him, and before she spent any time trying to open it, she needed to either buy it off him or get his permission to go ahead.
    She touched the space bar of her laptop computer to wake it up and composed a detailed e-mail to him. In it, she explained that she had assessed the collection of books and the vast majority were of little or no value. However, she added, there were a number of older volumes that clearly were of some importance. She listed the titles and the latest auction values she had been able to find for each of them, included the dates and locations of those auctions so he could check them himself if he so wished, and then added all the values together. It came to just under eight hundred pounds. From this sum, Robin added, the auctioneer’s commission and charges would need to be deducted, and her own fee for valuing the collection.
    She also described the book safe, for want of a better expression, describing it as accurately as she could and pointing out that it was most likely merely a curiosity and as far as she could tell from examining it, it did not contain anything and was locked. She finished the e-mail with a proposal, pointing out that some of the books were the kind she would be interested in buying as stock items for her shop, and making him a flat offer of seven hundred and fifty pounds for everything.
    She marked the message high priority, and then sent it to him. As soon as it had gone, Robin picked up the phone and called Stevens on his mobile number. He answered almost immediately.
    â€œWilliam, it’s Robin,” she said. “I’ve gone through all the books you sent me, and done my valuation bit on them. There aren’t a lot there of high value, frankly, but there are a few that would be worth selling and that I would be interested in buying myself. What I’ve done is send you an e-mail listing those books and giving you the latest auction valuations that I’ve been able to find,and then I’ve made you a cash offer for the lot, for the entire collection.”
    Stevens’s response was almost exactly what she had expected.
    â€œHow much?” he asked.
    â€œSeven hundred and fifty pounds,” she replied, “and in my professional opinion I don’t think you’ll get any more than that if you take them to auction, but of course that’s entirely up to you.”
    â€œThat’s