Текст книги "Insomvita"

Автор книги: Oleksandr Dan

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Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 7 страниц)

Chapter 7

14 December 2011. 18:35 London, UK

Robert was in his hotel room looking through materials related to a contract. In an hour he was to meet Mr. Zimme, a gemologist, for dinner at a restaurant, and so he wanted to examine the details of the deal one more time.

Morgan Lawyer & Co. was acting as intermediary in the acquisition of a large lot of diamonds and had provided documentation and legal support for the deal. The seller was a billionaire from Russia living at One Hyde Park, a luxury residential complex in London, and the buyer – a sheikh from Saudi Arabia. The Russians wanted to remain in the shadows, so he involved an offshore company from the Virgin Islands for the sale and acted through representatives. All negotiations between buyer and seller, without exception, however, involved Robert.

The firm usually had him support these kinds of deals worth hundreds of millions of euros. So, this wasn’t the first transaction of this sort for Robert.

The day before, there had been a meeting at the office of the firm’s director, where Roland said to Robert: “I understand your concerns about the rush. I know Christmas is just days away, but the buyer wants to spend the money before the year’s end. You know, for tax purposes. Besides, the buyer is a Sunni, and for them our Christmas doesn’t really exist. Everything will be ready by December 16. No later. Brink’s Incorporated, the shipping company, has already delivered the diamonds to the bank, and I was notified today that the buyer’s money has been transferred there too. Here’s the SWIFT transfer confirmation."

“Roland, the rush is not a problem. Rather, I'm concerned about insurance liability and possible consequences. I told you the diamonds' sales contract clearly specifies a strict deadline for completion of the deal. If the deal falls through, the default party will have to pay a penalty of five percent of the value of the deal.”

“Well, what’s bothering you there?” asked Roland, surprised. “The bank already blocked this amount on the accounts of the parties to the contract.”

“That’s not what I mean. I am suspicious that the payment of the penalty and insurance indemnity to the seller under the preliminary agreement and at the request of his representative are transferred not to the account, where the funds from the sale of the diamonds are transferred, but to an offshore account. The buyer, meanwhile, makes the payment through a top bank, and the possible penalties and insurance indemnities are also transferred there.” Robert paused and took the contract in his hands. “The fact that the buyer agreed to that is what is most suspect. These kinds of contracts take at least a month to prepare and we have only slightly over a week. By the way, December 16 is the last day. I'm not used to being so pressed for time. What if the deal does not go through on the 16th? We are really short on time,” he said.

“Listen, if the buyer does not object, what can we do? I offered, but the Arabs did not focus on this at all. Also, Robert, why do you think that the agreement will fall through? After all, the insurance indemnity is paid only if nothing happens. I think your suspicions are groundless. Both parties are serious about this and nobody will risk their image for some five percent. No, that’s just silly."

“Roland, the penalty is nearly fifty million dollars! You think that’s silly?"

“Robert, maybe the seller wants to evade taxes this way.”

“You mean the taxes he would pay on the principal bothers him less than a possible loss from the penalty?”

“Well, that’s why we are sending you, Robert. You have to make this deal happen, so that nobody has to pay any fines.”

In the evening, Robert and Kenan Zimme, who worked at the laboratory of HRD Antwerp, were dining at one of London's oldest restaurants.

Mr. Zimme was an active, sociable and nice seventy-year old Jew, a native of Odesa. At the beginning of the Second World War and German occupation of the city, his family fled to Palestine. Shortly afterwards, due to the constant conflicts inside the newly created Israel, the Zimme family moved to the United States, where his father opened a jewelry store and a pawnshop.

That’s what he told Robert during dinner. Mr. Zimme joked a lot, and he shared funny stories from his life. During the conversation, he remarked several times that a smile made him feel like a twenty-year old young man and that as luck would have it, he was sick only once in his life – he contracted epidemic parotitis, the mumps, at the age of four.

Zimme was reciting all this with great humor, typical of those who are fully content with their life and fate.

Robert was noticeably concerned about the contract, but Mr. Zimme cheerfully reassured him: “Young man, believe me, from an old perch that's swum in different waters in this life, you need not worry. Everything that is bound to happen will happen, and everything that is not meant to happen will not happen, regardless of your concerns and your actions. So, is it worth being nervous or anxious then? Today, when you go back to your hotel, don’t worry about anything. Just lie down and sleep tight. Trust the rest to God. He will take care of everything. As for our object, I must tell you that it is wonderful. It’s been some years since I’ve seen something like that. I reviewed everything thoroughly and I am confident there won’t be any trouble.”

But Robert was still concerned. He could not understand the reason behind his doubts and anxiety. To distract himself a bit, he decided to call Chloe.

It was just after 9 pm. Chloe did not answer. Robert dialed several more times, but got the same result. A waiter approached him and asked Robert to take a call from the restaurant’s phone. Robert immediately thought about Chloe, but how could she know the phone number of the restaurant?

“Right,” remembered Robert. “I left the details at the hotel’s reception.”

“I suspect, young man, that a certain young woman is tired of waiting for you in your room while you entertain an old man here.” Zimme smiled. “Go, because as a talented fellow countryman of mine once wisely wrote:

 
Love, love, because time does not wait for you.
It takes away your days and nights.
Love for as long as your body is young and thirsty.
Because when you are old, you will only love with the eyes.
 

“No, my girlfriend is very far away now, but it could be her calling.” Robert smiled at Zimme’s wit and headed to the bar.

When Robert picked up the phone, he could only hear short beeps. Robert replaced the receiver and waited for a couple of minutes, but nobody called back.

As he was returning to his table, Robert noticed from afar an unknown man of Middle Eastern appearance stop near the gemologist. As soon as Robert approached, the man excused himself and went to another room of the restaurant.

Zimme was still in a good mood and joked: “Well, Mr. Blanche, it seems like we keep getting interrupted.”

“Was that someone you know?” Robert asked, disregarding Mr. Zimme’s comment.

“You mean that guy? God forbid, Robert, he had me mistaken for somebody else,” Zimme said indifferently and continued to thinly slice the large piece of meat on his plate. “I’ve been mistaken for others many times. Once, I was even mistaken for Sir Anthony Hopkins and asked for an autograph. What do you think I did? I gave the autograph! And this one time in Israel…”

He continued to tell funny stories, and from time to time the old man would laugh so hard tears came to his eyes. Robert thought he had never met a more cheerful person in his life.

In the morning, Robert was awoken by a call from Mehmet, the sheikh’s aide. In a troubled voice he informed Robert that Mr. Zimme had had a heart attack and been taken to the ER, and so they had to quickly find a new gemologist. He also said that all the documents where Mr. Zimme was mentioned as an expert needed to be revised.

At that moment, Robert felt a suspicion that someone wanted to disrupt the deal. He immediately called his boss and reported the incident.

To keep the deal on track, the Arab side tried to get a gemologist from Israel. However, he was too busy and had to decline. The same happened with a gemologist from Belgium. Unexpectedly, the Israeli Diamond Exchange offered a professional gemologist from Guinea, who was in the UK at the moment.

The sheikh’s security quickly screened the gemologist’s documents and confirmed that Mr. Kone, a citizen of Guinea, was indeed an excellent expert, who had been in the business for thirty years, providing his services in West Africa, Angola and South Africa. Mr. Kone was immediately summoned to London and introduced to the sheikh.

It turned out that Mr. Kone was short, sturdy, black, and sixty years old. He was very polite and spoke French and English fluently.

That same morning, a white Maybach Landaulet drove up to the bank with the sheikh and his aide. The sheikh’s security detail and partners were already standing at the entrance and politely greeted him.

After all the formalities were observed, the representatives of both parties entered the conference room.

The sheikh was the first to enter, followed by his two strong bodyguards and three Arabs, the sheikh’s partners. Everybody, except the bodyguards, were dressed in long white robes of thin cotton and a keffiyeh affixed with a black head ring. The bodyguards, dressed in black suits, white shirts and colored ties, stood with stony faces in the corners of the room. It was clear from their appearance that they were American. Their conduct, hair and square chins gave away that they were former US special forces, likely Navy Seals.

Then the representatives of the seller, both from Eastern Europe, Czechs or Slovaks, entered the room. Everybody, except the bodyguards, sat down at the big round table, greeted each other and waited. One of the sheikh’s aides, upon his order, opened a grey MacBook and launched the bank’s app to access the account.

Several minutes later, Robert, gemologist Kone and two bank representatives with a metal box entered the room.

Robert placed two packages of documents before the buyer and the seller. All these documents had been examined by the parties a long time ago, but official procedure required it. The diamonds had also been already examined by the bank’s experts. Mr. Zimme personally had checked the quality of each diamond in the presence of bank employees. However, before transferring the money to the buyer and the diamonds to the seller, the procedure required another formal examination.

The metal box was opened, revealing neatly folded plastic bags with big, the size of a hazelnut, diamonds. A gemological certificate was attached to each stone.

Everything was removed from the metal box and placed on a separate table for inspection.

Mr. Kone, in white gloves, approached the table and selected several bags. He took out one stone and looked at it through a special loupe set on a tripod. He compared his examination result with the gemological certificate. Satisfied, he handed the stone to the sheikh, who examined it carefully with his own handheld loupe. Also satisfied, the sheikh nodded.

Kone repeated the procedure with several more diamonds. The Arabs again nodded in approval; they were getting exactly what they expected.

The diamonds were, indeed, wonderful; it was hard to find something of such quality at the price offered by the Russians, and in such quantity.

Finally, the gemologist, having examined yet another stone, looked at the sheikh, but he just made a barely noticeable hand gesture for Kone to continue working. The gemologist nodded, carefully packed the diamond into the bag and placed it back in the box together with the certificate. He then took another diamond from the table and continued to examine it closer through the special loupe.

Robert carefully watched the gemologist.

Thirty minutes passed, but Kone had yet to examine half the stones. He was very thoroughly checking their conformity with the certificates and even more thoroughly packing them into the bags and back in the metal box.

Despite the official nature of the meeting, there was no tension in the room. The Czechs were talking quietly with the sheikh about something through an Arab interpreter.

Robert approached the gemologist and asked quietly in French, “Mr. Kone, do you live in Conakry?”

“No, Mr. Blanche,” Kone answered without pausing his work. “When my great friend Mr. Lansana Conte passed, I had to leave. I moved to South Africa in early 2009. That’s where I live now. That’s where my family lives.”

Kone spoke calmly, peering intently at another piece of treated carbon.

The next moment, a bank officer entered the room and addressed Robert.

“Mr. Blanche. There is a phone call for you.”

Robert picked up the phone and heard the agitated voice of Jovan, his friend and head of the firm’s security.

“Robbie, we’ve got a problem. I just received news from the hospital. Zimme did not suffer a heart attack. They discovered some powerful toxin in his blood.” Jovan fell silent, then whispered, “Poison.”

Robert said nothing. He was stunned.

Jovan quietly continued: “I don’t know where to start digging, but we need to figure out what the deal here is and who benefits. I believe somebody wanted to sideline the gemologist.”

“Did you tell the boss?”

“Roland? Of course, I did. He's already dropped everything and is coming to the office. But I wanted to tell you personally.”

Robert realized he had to do something and do it now. Before the main contract was signed and the transactions begun. He smelled fraud. The reputation of the firm was at stake.

When Robert returned to the conference room, all appeared normal.

Who would benefit if the deal falls through, he thought, looking around at each man in turn. The Arabs? No. They transferred the money to the bank, the account has been checked, so everything is good there. They rejected the idea of cash right away. Everything is clean there. The Russians? The diamonds are here. Everything was thoroughly checked in advance, and double-checked for compliance of the stones with the certificates. Mr. Zimme praised the quality of the diamonds yesterday at the restaurant. He said that every stone was worth at least fifty percent more than what the Russians were asking. This gemologist, Kone, is also a reliable expert. It was the Arabs who found and vetted him. Seems like everything is clean here too.

Robert, however, knew that if Mr. Zimme had been poisoned, then his illness and replacement with another gemologist were links in a single chain. It all looked very suspicious. The 5 % penalty clause for breaking the deadline was a demand of the Russians, the seller.

Robert looked around the room again. Everybody was talking quietly and waiting for the gemologist to finish. He looked intently at the gemologist and was suddenly struck by a strange idea. He had to test it, but not raise suspicion.

He approached Kone and asked in Bambara[18]18
  Bambara, also known as Bamana or Bamanankan – language spoken natively by the Bamana people, West Africa. Family language – Mande.


[Закрыть]: “E be moun fo, a kani?[19]19
  E be moun fo, a kani? (Bamanankan) – Do you think the stones are worthy?


[Закрыть]” Robert decided to ask a question in the language Trevor from his dreams was fluent in. He had never used this language, but if Kone was who he said he was, then he must understand him. Almost everybody in Conakry speaks Bambara, as well as French.

However, Kone did not reply. He held a big round diamond in his hands and acted as if he hadn’t heard Robert.

“A be dioli soro sissan?[20]20
  A be dioli soro sissan? (Bamanankan) – How much could this stone really cost?


[Закрыть]” Robert asked and drew closer to Kone.

The gemologist remained silent, looking intently at the diamond through his loupe, as if nothing had happened.

The Arabs noticed the gemologist’s unresponsiveness and fell silent. The Czechs, it seemed, grew nervous and one of them picked up his phone and quickly exited the room.

A bank officer entered and asked Robert what had happened.

Robert stared at Kone, still waiting for answers to his questions, but Kone remained silent. He was still examining the same diamond. Rather, he was not so much examining is as simply staring at it. And he seemed to have stopped breathing.

One of the Czech men broke the silence. With a common Czech accent he said hesitantly: “Everything is fine. Some just can’t take it they see those diamonds. Big money, big anxiety."

Mehmet approached Robert and asked what happened.

Robert looked at the sheikh, then at Mehmet, and answered in Arabic: “No, not alright, gentlemen. This man is not who he says he is. He is not Guinean. And most likely his name is not Kone. I was just informed that our gemologist, Mr. Zimme, was poisoned."

The sheikh nodded and one of his bodyguards approached the Czech and the other – the gemologist. The bank officer called the bank’s security.

Dumbfounded and sweating profusely, Kone looked around and with trembling hands lowered the stone into the metal box, as though defeated.

The scam was simple, but daring and craftily elegant.

Mr. Zimme, whom the Arabs trusted fully, had performed the first examination of the diamonds. Then he was sidelined. Poison was the simplest way to go and, seeing as Zimme was polite and friendly, did not require additional preparation. While he was distracted by conversation, someone slipped a small dose of poison into the gemologist’s food.

If the Arabs were to go back on the deal in the absence of the gemologist, they would have been forced to pay the fifty-million-dollar penalty. Nobody wants to lose this kind of money on an almost closed deal. Naturally, the buyer would approach top gemologists in Antwerp or Israel in search of an experienced professional. On their side, upon getting the information about the gemologist chosen by the buyer, the scammers took steps to ensure that he was unavailable by offering him a better job which he could not refuse.

Then using an employee of the Israel exchange, who suspected nothing, the scammers offered Mr. Kone, who was known and respected there. To replace Kone with their own person, a gemologist, was just a technicality. Nobody really cared where the real Mr. Kone was at the moment, as a beneficial contract worth over a billion dollars or a huge penalty for disruption of the deal was at stake.

When the switch was made, the new “Kone” was presented to the parties as a person of the buyer, i.e. the Arabs. The only thing he needed to do was to confirm that all the stones complied with the gemological certificates and that Mr. Zimme did all the work regarding their examination.

After “Mr. Kone” confirmed to the buyer that everything was good, the box with fake stones would be passed to the buyer and the buyer would transfer all the money to the seller’s offshore account. To make it more convincing, several of the stones were authentic and “Kone” showed them to the sheikh, as the latter could easily tell a fake just by looking at it. The rest of the stones were excellent fakes from wonderfully cut cubic zirconia.

Nobody would have thought to examine the diamonds immediately thereafter. So, the scammer had a huge time advantage to tie up any loose ends.

Because the seller did not act directly, but through representatives, he might not have had any idea about the scam. His own people might even be using him, taking advantage of the trust. After the scam was complete, the scammers would have had the real diamonds, which they could leave in a safe deposit box in the same bank.

The scam was win-win. The scammers would benefit in any case – the fifty million dollar penalty if the deal fell through at the least or a lot with high quality diamonds worth over one billion dollars at the most.

The police arrested the gemologist and one of the Czechs. The one who had left the conference room disappeared.

After Robert spoke to an officer of Interpol, Mehmet, the sheikh’s aide, approached him.

“Mr. Blanche,” he said politely. “His Highness would like to discuss with you some of the details of what happened here and invites you to his suite at the Savoy.”

Robert was in a rush to get to his hotel. He looked at his watch; it was close to five. All his thoughts were with Chloe now; she hadn’t answered his calls for three days. He also needed to pack his things. His flight to Prague was the next morning. Still, Robert agreed to the meeting.

“Please tell His Highness that I will be there at nine.”

“No, no, Mr. Blanche. His Highness kindly offers his limo and security men. He is already waiting for you at the hotel. If you don’t mind, we can leave now.”

“Ok, let me collect my things here and I’ll be ready in ten minutes.”

“Very well, Mr. Blanche. I’ll be waiting at the hotel for you. John and Jake are at your disposal.” Mehmet pointed at the two bodyguards in black suits, who gave short, almost imperceptible, nods to Robert. “They will accompany you.”

Mehmet politely said goodbye and left the bank. The two strong bodyguards with unmoving faces, equal in height and build, looked like twins. They never let Robert out of their sight.

On the way to the hotel, Robert tried reaching Chloe a couple of more times, but was unsuccessful.

Mehmet was waiting for him at the hotel’s reception desk. He nodded at Robert and said to follow him.

The sheikh's suite was huge with several spacious rooms in the elegant Edwardian style with a view of the Thames. In the distance, on the south bank, Robert could see the flickering lights of the 135-meter London Eye, one of the London’s main attractions.

The sheikh came up to Robert, greeted him and asked him to sit at a small table.

“People, Mr. Blanche, always desire to see more than they can,” he began in Arabic, pointing at the Ferris wheel. “But what they want most is to enjoy what they see. Isn’t that so? What do you think?”

“That is human nature, and there is nothing you can do about it. The desire to enjoy is the driver of progress, to some extent.”

“Robert… May I call you that? I call all my friends by their given name.”

“Of course, I’m humbled that you are calling me your friend.”

“You speak Arabic well. Not many Europeans speak Arabic as fluently as you do. These days, everybody wishes to speak only English.” The sheikh paused and then asked, “Would you like tea or coffee?”

“Thank you. Well, we are in England, so tea, only tea.” Robert smiled.

The sheikh poured tea into two porcelain cups and handed one to Robert.

“Did you know, Robert, that nearly three hundred million people speak Arabic,” the sheikh continued proudly. “That’s the size of the population of the United States. By the way, Arabic is one of the oldest languages in the world. And it is the language of the Holy Quran. Did you study it somewhere?”

“No, Your Highness. I had a very good teacher. We studied different languages every night, including Arabic. Ever since I was a child.”

“Well, let’s switch to English. After all, as you rightly said, we are in England and we are drinking English tea. So, it would be unfair not to use this opportunity and practice a bit, maybe improve my English,” offered the sheikh and continued in English. “What about African languages? Your teacher must have been a polyglot.”

“Bambara, that’s different,” Robert answered. “There is a story there, which, by the way, is related to the diamonds from Guinea and Sierra Leone."

“Well, I hope you will share this exciting story with me one day, but now I would like to ask you, Robert: when did you suspect or guess that they were scammers? My aide, the former chief of security, is a very experienced and cautious man, yet he was caught with his pants down, as they say.” He stressed ‘former’.

“It wasn’t just a guess. I don’t know much about gemology, but I do have pretty extensive experience in law and I do not rely on chance. The first time I had a suspicion was when Mr. Zimme suddenly had a heart attack. We had dinner at a restaurant the night before and he looked very healthy. Then, when we were in the conference room, I got a call from my law firm’s security service, which said that the heart attack was caused by some strong toxin. Comparing these facts, I realized that the gemologist was the weakest link. And the fact that he was introduced to us as a Guinean and my modest knowledge of Bambara – those are pure coincidences." Robert smiled and placed his cup on the table.

“I do not believe in coincidences; everything happens at the will of Allah. The bad and the good. You saved me a lot of money, Robert, and you helped preserved my authority. That is more important than the money. So, how can I thank you?”

“You’ve already done that, Your Highness. You have generously paid for the work of my firm as agreed, even though the deal was a bust.”

“No, Robert. I’d like to thank you personally. It is the right thing to do. Thanks to your perceptiveness, you have replaced the whole security department for me.”

The sheikh opened his checkbook, which was lying on a table nearby, wrote down a sum, tore out the check and handed to Robert.

“Please accept this gift from me as a sign of my gratitude.”

“Your Highness, there is no need,” Robert began, but the sheikh interrupted him.

“Any work must be properly rewarded. This is just a number on a nice piece of paper, but what I value most are human relationships.” The sheikh looked at Robert as he began to fondle a string of prayer beads and continued. “Robert, can I count on you should I require your legal services again?”

“Of course. It would be an honor to be useful to you.”

“Well, my dear friend. You know what they say in the East – a good meeting is a short meeting,” summed up the sheikh, making it clear that the audience was over. “It was very nice getting to know you better. I hope this is not our last meeting.”

Robert unfolded the check only when he was in the car returning to his hotel. He saw “Five million dollars” written in a neat, calligraphic handwriting. And there was a long signature in Arabic ligature – the first and last name of the sheikh without abbreviations.

Back at the hotel, Robert relaxed a bit. He poured a glass of whiskey, opened the curtains and fell deep in thought while watching the night city. Not everything was clear in this case and he could not figure out who was behind it all.

His phone started ringing.

“Blanche.”

“Robert, good evening,” said Roland, the firm’s director. His voice was very agitated. “I’ve been informed about everything. Are you alright?”

“Yes, boss, everything is fine. I’ll be in Prague tomorrow morning.”

“Well, I am expecting you in the office tomorrow at 11:30 am. We’ll talk then. Now, just rest. Jovan will pick you up at the airport tomorrow.” Roland rang off.

The flight was early, but Chloe still was not picking up her phone. He glanced at his watch and called once again, but all he got was the answering machine – again.

The watch showed 1:30 am.

The flight from London is at 7:15 am, Robert thought. The flight is three hours. Then a couple more hours and I’m home, and then we’ll see. It is a good thing Jovan is picking me up.

Robert trusted Jovan completely and unconditionally.

They had been friends since childhood. Both had applied to Charles University and planned on becoming lawyers. But Jovan failed his entrance exams, which did not stop him from applying to the Police Academy of the Czech Republic right away. After graduating magna cum laude, he became the youngest police detective in Prague.

Jovan served on the police force for nearly 15 years and rose from inspector in the serious crimes department to colonel in the post of senior advisor. However, during the corruption scandal that erupted during the government of Stanislav Gross, who had been an interior minister before becoming prime minister and was a close friend and boss of Jovan, he resigned, having become disappointed in his friend and boss. Four years ago, with Robert’s help, he became the head of the firm’s security.

Jovan was short, sturdy, bald, and in his early forties, with a carefully trimmed long moustache. He came across as a very nice and pleasant man. Those who didn’t know him would never have guessed that he was the head of security somewhere and had been a high-ranking cop. He once told Robert: “There are two types of policemen: good and bad. Well, I am the vicar of good policemen. In the firm, he was called "our Poirot”, and that was indeed so. In addition to having been a genuine detective, he was the soul of any company, was always witty, threw jokes around and shared interesting facts about the lives of fellow police officers.

He always got on with those around him, never raised his voice when speaking to subordinates and nobody ever saw him in a foul mood.

He was very secretive about his personal life, but everybody in the firm knew that Jovan was single, his wife had left him a year into their marriage, unable to handle the burden of being a policeman’s wife, especially the fact that he was rarely home. Only Robert knew that somewhere on the outskirts of the city Jovan was seeing a young woman who had come into his life about two years prior. That was why Robert and Chloe were waiting excitedly for Jovan to introduce her to them. Instead, he would dismiss the relationship with a joke.

When speaking with colleagues, Jovan was always amiable, but Robert was his only true friend and someone he trusted. Like old friends, they often spent time at Robert’s home or at a pub drinking beer, which Jovan loved. Chloe liked the funny and cheerful man, and the door of their home was always open to him.

Robert was lying on his hotel bed trying to reach Chloe for the umpteenth time. Her phone was off. When he felt he was falling asleep, Robert put the phone aside and closed his eyes.

Suddenly he felt dizzy, followed by an incredible force that pinned him to the bed. Robert opened his eyes; he could see everything around him, but he did not have control over the rest of his body. An unknown force kept pressing him to the bed.

Robert gasped. He tried to flex his muscles or at least scream, but his body remained beyond his control. Suddenly all went black. Robert found himself in complete darkness, with no feeling in his body, no smell, no hearing. It seemed like he was suspended in air, although his brain continued to frantically seek a way out of this chilling captivity. Robert could not understand what was happening to him. He was still conscious. And then he heard a steady sound coming from somewhere inside his subconscious, gradually filling the space around him. In an instant, it seemed to be pulsing even in his veins. It was like the pendulum of the clock, swinging back and forth, but purer, sharper, clearer. He had neither the strength nor the senses to resist the sudden numbness. Robert mentally groped to understand what was happening to him.