ELARA
"Elara Ashcroft. Museum Studies, Johns Hopkins."
Felix's voice was steady.
Dr. Voss looked at me over his glasses. The kind of look that made you aware of every wrinkle in your shirt.
We were standing in the entrance hall of the Whitmore Collection. Not a museum exactly—more like a rich man's hoard that had been legitimized with a foundation and a tax exemption. The ceiling was absurdly high, gilded, the kind of thing you saw in photographs of European palaces.
"Ms. Ashcroft." The director extended his hand. Maximilian Voss. Late fifties, steel-gray hair combed back from a high forehead. Wire-rimmed glasses. German, according to Felix's briefing in the car. Former deputy director at the Pergamon in Berlin. The kind of credentials that made my Hopkins degree feel like a participa
