Page 47 - Unlikely Stories 1
P. 47

Ladreque’s Last Case



        the copy had come from, but he knew what was coming next: the
        switch  would  be  made,  setting  off  an  alarm;  the  culprit,  however,
        would  already  be  somewhere  else,  blending  into  the  background,
        when the guards arrived.
               Ladreque drew his Beretta and stepped out into the open.
                “Hold it right there!” he commanded. “You have been very,
        very clever, and you have succeeded in stealing a king’s ransom in art
        treasures—but that was before Arsène Ladreque took on the case!”
               The  ersatz  custodian  froze  in  her  tracks,  still  holding  the
        wand.  “How  did  you  discover  our  operation?”  she  asked,  in  a
        strangely muffled and metallic voice. Ladreque could not make out
        her features, so closely did the wig hide her face.
               “The elements,” he replied triumphantly. “Most of them were
        isotopically matched to the period, but not all: their half-lives were
        anachronistic.  The  age  testing  put  me  on  the  track  of  all  the
        mysterious  signs  of  tampering  and  false  alarms  you  had  to  leave
        behind as meaningless clues. The rest: my own deduction. The quality
        of  the  pieces  and  their  period  led  me  to  this  exhibition;  the
        Schlagenkirch  Altar  had  to  be  next  on  your  list.  I  suspect  an
        unscrupulous oriental collector is behind your ring; perhaps you will
        reveal  his  identity  to  save  your  own  skin.  That  is  a  matter  for  the
        Tahoe police and Interpol. Now, you’re under arrest. Put that thing
        down and raise your hands.”
                “Then  you  are  alone,”  croaked  the  thief.  “That  means
        nobody else believes your unbelievable analysis. But it is correct; you
        deserve to know that. We could not find a source of properly aged
        rare earths for our simulator, an obstacle we thought unnecessary to
        overcome.” She raised her free hand and swept off the wig. Ladreque
        gasped.  “Yes,  you  see:  we  are  not  of  this  world.  We  are  field-
        collecting  for  a  museum  far,  far  away,  and  we  have  been  granted
        permission  to  gather  certain  representative  pieces—leaving  a
        reasonable  facsimile  behind.  Our  charter  prohibits  us  from
        committing any acts which would be criminal according to our own
        laws. Unfortunately for you, that does not prevent us from exercising
        minimal self-defense.”

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