Sandy reached out to touch them as if he didn’t trust the evidence of his eyes. “The one for the back. And the two for the face—one for green ink, one for black.” He shook his head amazedly. “And they were in that box!” He felt the lead lining. “It’s as thin as paper,” he said. “They must have made it that way to compensate for the weight of the plates—to make both boxes weigh about the same.” He looked up at Ken. “But they didn’t quite do it—they were a few ounces out.”
“Dad brought the plates past customs not knowing what he was doing.” Ken spoke slowly, piecing together fragments of information. “They never thought we’d find out—they never thought anybody would find out.” He was rewrapping the plates and putting them back into the box.
Sandy got to his feet quickly. “And maybe nobody
