Текст книги "The Final Cut"

Автор книги: Catherine Coulter

Соавторы: J. T. Ellison
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Текущая страница: 18 (всего у книги 27 страниц)

63

Geneva, Switzerland

Rue de Lausanne

Friday afternoon

Kitsune walked northwest through the city until she spied an anonymous street that backed to an elementary school. She followed the Rue de Navigation, through the turnstiles that accessed the walkway, stopping cars from interrupting the children at play in their schoolyard, then up a quiet one-way street.

She took a room at the Hotel Kipling, stashed her bag in the room’s safe, showered and dressed, then went next door to the Lord Jim Pub on Rue de Lausanne to have some food before the meeting with Lanighan. It was an English-style pub, full of afternoon revelers drinking microbrews and shouting their drunken opinions at a football match playing on all of the bar’s big-screen televisions. She ordered bangers and mash and wondered, as she had many times, if this would be her last meal. She saw Grant’s face and forced away the sadness and regret.

The food arrived. She forked warm mashed potatoes into her mouth, savoring the salty onion gravy, as authentically British as any she’d had near the River Thames.

She ate slowly, enjoying the meal.

Part of her preparation to steal the Koh-i-Noor diamond was to become an expert, to learn every single aspect of its storied history, even the lore. Especially the lore. She’d found deeper legends, ones she’d only half believed, rarely spoken of, long forgotten in the stone’s tragic path through documented history.

During her studies, she’d come across an old parchment that posed the idea of the three stones. When she’d read it, she’d shaken her head and dismissed the idea as absurd, possibly the result of an opium dream. Now she worked to recall the story, picking over the words to find the truth behind them.

According to the parchments, Sultan Aurangzeb was a visionary. He knew others would kill him for the diamond. To be safe, he had Borgio split the stone in two, and while publicly parading the smaller stone known as the Koh-i-Noor, he’d secreted the much larger stone in a place no one knew.

Over the centuries, this secret was passed down from father to son. While the Koh-i-Noor was fought over, bled over, stolen, and retrieved at the cost of hundreds of lives, the larger piece was kept hidden, safe, its whereabouts passed down from generation to generation.

The parchment claimed a long-ago prince’s son was born blind, and when the father pressed the stone to the child’s forehead, his sight was restored. If the stone could heal—but that was ridiculous.

Could Saleem actually believe this?

Three hundred and fifteen years later, according to the parchment, when Prince Albert had Coster cut the diamond down further, the dust was collected, placed in a velvet bag, and stowed in a safe to be used to edge a skaif to cut more diamonds. This was the normal course of things; any time a diamond was cut, the dust was collected and recycled.

The next day, when the bag was retrieved to be put into service, the young lapidary who picked it up felt something bulky within. The parchment claimed that the diamond dust had reformed into a small stone. Shaken, the fellow shared the story with his wife and fled to Germany to put the stone in his family’s safe. He was found dead on the train to Berlin, his body stripped of its treasure.

And so the third and final piece of the diamond was lost to history forever.

Three stones. A legend only the most dedicated fans of the Koh-i-Noor even knew existed. To hold the three stones in your hand was to have the power of ten thousand men. Its measure was greater than gold, and the man who owned such power would control his destiny, and the destinies of many others.

The curse, though—she had to believe it was real. Every man who’d believed himself lord and steward over the Koh-i-Noor met with a bad end. Only God or a woman could wield the power properly, that part of the warning was quite clear.

Legends. Stories meant to entertain men, to educate, to foster a desire to hunt treasures long lost to the mortal world.

One stone, cleaved into three pieces. One piece, now in her possession, sought after by a man who clearly believed in the magic of merging the three stones.

If the fragments of stories Saleem’s father had shared with her were true, his family had held the largest piece of the diamond for more than four centuries.

Kitsune knew where the third piece was hidden, because Mulvaney had told her.

Only a true descendant of the original Indian line would have the power to unite the stones.

Kitsune shook her head. She knew what the prophecy foretold, but it all seemed too incredible to believe.

She paid her bill and checked her watch. It was time to meet with Lanighan, then leave her old life behind forever.

64

Geneva, Switzerland

Hotel Beau-Rivage

Friday, early evening

One conversation thirty years ago had set him on an exhausting path. Unite the stones, and it will heal man.

To hell with man.

From his sixteenth year, Saleem wanted the god’s diamond, not for India, but for himself. Saleem’s father had been right. Saleem needed the stones united to heal himself.

He often wondered, if they had retrieved the Koh-i-Noor and its mate in time, would his grandfather have truly been healed? He’d seen the man’s face clear of its wretched pain and age when he held the one large piece, seen it with his own eyes.

Would his father, saddled with kidney disease, have lived beyond his sixtieth year?

Would Saleem himself have sickened in his teens, his body have been pumped full of the poison that put him in this desperate position now? Cured, alive, but unable to father a child?

And last month, at his annual physical, a ritual he took very seriously, his latest blood work showed an overabundance of white blood cells. The leukemia he’d battled as a teenager was back. He was running out of time.

With the three stones united, he would be healed and forever immortal. Not only would he have the Koh-i-Noor this very day, he also finally had in his possession the lost seventy-seven-carat stone from Antwerp. If his father had any idea his old friend Andrei Anatoly held his diamond all these years, he would have killed the man himself.

No matter. Anatoly was dead, and the smallest piece of the diamond was now safe in a Paris warehouse, awaiting its brothers.

He would return to Paris, open the locked box, marry the three stones, and be healed. Then he would sire a son.

Behind him, he heard a soft knock at his door.

65

Saleem opened the door to his suite. Two years since he’d seen her last, and she still took his breath away. But something was different, wrong. Her beauty was diminished. She was only a woman after all, not the mythical creature he remembered.

And then it hit him.

“Your eyes.”

She waved a hand in dismissal. “A necessary evil. May I come in, or are we going to do this transaction in the hallway?”

He stepped back and allowed her entrance. He stuck his head out the door, looking right, then left. The hall behind her was empty; she’d come alone, as instructed.

He shut the door and turned to see her watching him. She set her backpack down on the table and opened it.

“You have the Koh-i-Noor.”

“Of course. Let us do our business and go our separate ways. You are prepared to transfer the funds?”

“Let me see it first.”

She held out her hand. There was a small envelope, only a few inches big, inside her palm. “Money for the key.”

Saleem said, “Key? Key to what? Where is my diamond?”

“Safely stashed away where you will be able to claim it. As soon as I’ve confirmed the money is in my accounts.”

Was she indeed planning to betray him? Well, he’d been warned, and he was ready for her. “Why have you not brought the diamond to me?”

Kitsune pulled back her hand.

“Did you honestly believe I was going to walk in here and hand you the stone? Do you take me for a fool, Lanighan? This is how business is done. You know the proper procedure. I see the weapon you carry under your coat. Did you plan to shoot me dead the moment you have your diamond?”

They were circling each other now, Kitsune watching his hand carefully for any sign he was going for the gun in his pocket. He was not the same man she’d met two years earlier. There was something different about him.

He’s desperate, she thought, finally recognizing the problem. But why? What had happened over the past two years?

It didn’t matter. Mulvaney had warned her she shouldn’t trust Lanighan.

“I will ask you once more. Where is my diamond?”

“The Koh-i-Noor is safe. You transfer my money, and I will tell you where to take the key. I keep my bargains. I always have. Do you?”

He was becoming enraged. She recognized the signs and took three steps back, put her weight on her back foot, ready to defend herself.

He whipped the gun from his pocket and jabbed it toward her chest. “I have been warned of your duplicity, your intention to take my money and the Koh-i-Noor. I will not allow you to do this. I want my diamond, and I want it now.”

She spun, pivoting on her left foot, and her right leg clipped the gun from his hand, sent it skidding across the floor. She followed with an elbow to his jaw, snapping his head back, knocking him into the table. She darted across the room to the weapon, raised it, aimed as he turned and started toward her.

Her voice was ice. “Stop. Right now. Or I will shoot you, Lanighan, and you will get nothing.”

He dropped his hand to his side. His rage was barely controlled. He said between clenched teeth, “It seems the warnings against you were correct.”

“Who would say that about me? I always play by the rules. You’re the one acting like an amateur. Now, I’m going to watch you transfer the money, then I will give you the key, and we will part ways, each satisfied our end of the bargain has been upheld.”

“Very well. Give me the key. An act of good faith.”

Without lowering the weapon, she tossed him the small envelope.

“It is a five-minute walk from here. Now transfer my money.”

“You will come with me.”

She shook her head. “If you try to walk out this door without transferring my money, I will shoot you dead and keep the diamond for myself.”

“Where is the diamond now?”

“Bank Horim. You can see it from here, Saleem. Go out on your balcony and look to the right.”

He considered her for a moment, then shrugged and went to the balcony. The outside air was biting, and the sun was disappearing rapidly. He turned to the right and saw the pulsing blue and white lights half a mile away.

“Kitsune. Come here.”

“So you can throw me off the balcony? No, thank you.”

“Come here now!”

She edged carefully toward the open door. She saw the lights immediately, realized there were police ears in front of the Bank Horim.

Her mobile rang, a secure number. It was Marie-Louise Helmut.

The older woman’s voice was a whisper. “People are asking about you.”

“What people?”

“An America FBI agent and an Englishman from Scotland Yard, plus a French FedPol agent. I am holding them off as long as possible, but they know you were here, and they are bringing warrants. I will not be able to stop them from opening the box.”

Drummond had found her. She’d known he would; deep down, she’d known. But how? How had he found her here?

Kitsune couldn’t allow them to open the box, not while the stone was inside.

Kitsune said, “You must open the box yourself and remove the contents.”

“I cannot, the FedPol agent is still here.” Then Helmut said, “I did send the man and woman to Sages, as you instructed. If only the third agent would leave, I could retrieve the contents of the box unnoticed.”

Kitsune’s heart sped up. A chance, then.

She said, “Do what you have to do. Make it happen.”

She turned to Lanighan.

“There is a problem, but I am handling it. Meet me back here in two hours.”

She didn’t wait for an answer, turned and left so quietly he wouldn’t have known she’d even been in his room if he hadn’t seen her with his own eyes.

66

Geneva, Switzerland

Sages Fidelité

Friday, early evening

Sages Fidelité was not a bank, it was simply a small building with a counter separating the foyer from three walls of floor-to-ceiling safe-deposit boxes. Mike and Nicholas burst in the door at a run, and the attendant behind the counter jumped to his feet and threw his hands in the air. He looked so scared Mike had to bite back a laugh. This was going to go better than it had at Bank Horim.

The boy was the assistant manager, a gawky youth who didn’t look old enough to shave. Tomas was his name, and he was happy to share all he knew, though, alas, it wasn’t much.

He looked at the picture and nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, she came in this afternoon and rented a box. She paid up front, the nonresident of Switzerland rate, for two years. Then she put something in the box and left.”

“Let us into the box.”

The wide Adam’s apple bobbed. “Without her key, there is no way to open it.”

Nicholas banged his fist on the counter. “Find a bloody blowtorch, then. Get the box open, right now. And let us see the paperwork.”

The kid knew a serious man when he saw one. “No, no, don’t do that. I have a master key. We’re not allowed to use it, though; it’s only for emergencies.”

Mike touched her fingers to her Glock. “This is an emergency. Open the box.”

The boy swallowed and handed over the paperwork, then ran into the back for his master key.

Mike said, “This place isn’t very secure.”

“If it were one of the banks, this would never happen. They’d have to drill the lock out. There’s no guarantee of safety in a place like this.” He looked down at the paperwork. “Cheeky girl—she rented the box in the name Duleep Singh.”

Mike asked, “Duleep Singh? The last rightful owner of the Koh-i-Noor, before it was handed over to the British, right?”

“Yes. She’s playing games with us.”

The boy came back with the master key, opened the lock of the safe-deposit box, and quickly stepped back. Nicholas pulled the gray plastic box from the wall.

It was light. His heart began to pound. Was this it? Had they found the Koh-i-Noor?

Without waiting to set it on a table, he opened the box. There was only a piece of paper inside.

“I’d hoped it was the diamond. No such luck.”

He pulled out the paper. There was a list of numbers. No rhyme or reason to them that he could see.

“What is it?”

Mike took the paper from him and studied it. “Bank accounts. They’re consistent, each with thirteen numbers. Numbered accounts. We better let Savich throw this into the mix.”

“What’s that written on the back?”

She flipped the paper. Written in an elegant cursive were eight words. This is all you get. Leave me alone.

Mike said, “Do you think this is directed at us, or to someone else?”

Nicholas looked down at the message. “It has to be someone else, since she shouldn’t know we’re here. But we’re a step closer.”

He saw the young man watching them warily.

Nicholas dropped the box and crossed the floor in three steps, grabbed the boy’s collar, and jerked him up on his toes, got right in his face. “What else did she do while she was here?”

“N-Nothing, sir.”

“You’re lying. Did she buy another box?”

The boy was silent. Nicholas shook him. “Which one is it?”

“She didn’t, I swear.”

He said to Mike, “Call Menard, have him send over his officers to arrest this man.”

“Wait. Wait. Okay. She did rent one more box.”

Nicholas let him go. “So she paid you to keep quiet about it, did she, Tomas? Too late now. Open it.”

This box was heavier than the first. Nicholas carried it to the small Formica-covered table in the center of the room. He began to lift the lid, saw a flash of blue velvet and the clear, clean lines of molten glass.

The Koh-i-Noor.

Then the lid caught. He stopped and, holding his breath, he slowly and carefully allowed it to close.

“Everyone, don’t move.” Still holding the lid carefully closed, he fished in his pocket for his Swiss Army knife with its small attached flashlight.

He eased down onto his haunches until he was eye level with the edge of the lid, and keeping it less than an inch open, flashed the light inside.

There was the Koh-i-Noor in the box. Surrounded by wires.

Bloody hell.

He thanked the Almighty for the instincts that had just kept them all alive, and gently laid down the lid. Without moving, without raising his voice, he said, “Mike, it’s rigged to blow. Get the boy and walk outside. I’m right behind you.”

She didn’t hesitate, grabbed Tomas’s arm. “Come with me, right now.”

When he was sure they were safely outside, Nicholas carefully eased his hand from the lid, praying he hadn’t jostled the bomb. It was meant to explode the moment the lid was lifted past a quarter of the way open.

He slowly and silently backed away. He was still in one piece, which meant he hadn’t tripped the pressure switch. It didn’t mean they were safe, there could be a secondary timer, or it could work on a mobile signal, like the bomb in New York. It was surely divine intervention they all hadn’t been blown to kingdom come.

No way would he try and disarm this bomb himself. He needed to leave the building as quickly and calmly as possible and bring in the experts, with their robotic counterparts, to deactivate the switch.

He backed toward the door until he felt the handle under his hands, then turned swiftly and stepped outside. The freezing air bit his face, and he breathed a deep lungful. Too close, Nicholas. Too bloody close.

The glass door swung shut behind him, and he searched for Mike. She was across the street with Tomas, her face white. She was scared. And she was shouting at him, her hands above her head, arms waving wildly.

His mind registered her screams, and he felt rather than heard the glass shatter behind him with a ferocious burst of heat and ear-blasting explosion. He dropped to the ground, rolling into a ball, protecting his head, as the explosion roared around him, glass and metal twisting and hurtling outward, shooting out fire that burned his hands.

He couldn’t hear anything, see anything. It was all black.

67

Parc Saint-Jean

Kitsune watched Drummond and Caine talking to the boy, manhandling him, and the idiot caved and opened the box for them. At least he’d followed her instructions—if a couple came in looking for information, he was to give them the box with the paper in it.

If Saleem Lanighan came in, it was a different story.

But Drummond had scared the daylights out of the kid, and he’d brought out the second box. The box meant for Lanighan.

Her left thumb was on the detonator, the right held a monocle trained on the Sages Fidelité lobby. She was safe, across the park, but well within radio range.

She watched them talking about the bank account numbers in the first box. She saw Caine flip the paper over, saw Drummond snatch it from her and read her short message, meant for them.

This is all you get. Leave me alone.

More discussion, then Drummond got physical with Tomas and she knew it was all over.

All it would take was a minute press of her thumb, a hint of pressure, and this would all be over.

No more Drummond. She recognized she was full of righteous anger, a feeling she remembered well from when she was younger and less disciplined. She’d acted on emotion only once. This couldn’t be about rage. This was about survival.

She’d wanted it to be Lanighan to open the second box, to blow himself off the face of the earth, because it would mean he’d betrayed her.

She held the detonator in her hand and watched. No, she wouldn’t have to blow up the box, Drummond was going to open it and do the job himself.

She heard Mulvaney telling her once, twice, perhaps with the planning of every tough job: Redundancy is your friend, Kitsune.

She gritted her teeth at the thought of her mentor, pushed him from her mind. She needed to be clear for this. There would be time enough later to find what happened to Mulvaney.

She watched Drummond stiffen, and she knew he’d realized the bomb was there. She watched Caine drag Tomas from the building, and run across the street. And she watched Drummond slowly lower the lid, then slowly step away from the box. His life was in her hands.

She hadn’t wanted it to end like this. She swallowed, breathed deeply, forced herself to calm.

Do it.

You have to survive. There is too much at stake.

Do it do it do it!

The front door opened and Drummond was outside—Do it now.

Her thumb twitched, and it was over.