PART THREE
Chapter Five
Kerry sat alone in the lounge area of the suite, a book open in her lap to the same page it had been for an hour. Billy was still awake, clacking away at his computer, and Henry was waiting for her, though she hoped he was already asleep.
It couldn't be love. It had to be infatuation. That was it! She had never felt either before, so surely she was confusing things. And look what it was doing to her: the sun was coming up soon, she couldn't sleep, and her mind was so far off the game it was pathetic.
She closed the book and picked up her pack of cigarettes. What had McCall meant with his remark? What game could he be playing she didn't know?
Kerry went over in her mind what she knew.
Two years earlier with Interpol closing in she had sat down to dinner with Georges in New York. Luckily for her the FBI had backed off since she had married McCall and moved the bulk of her operations to Europe.
They sat in a trendy bistro that was the current darling of the Old Guard, not yet discovered by the Hollywood noveau riche. Georges had ordered their wine and the sommelier, a real Frenchman, had lingered at their table pleased to be with a fellow countryman.
When he finally left them to their vino and appetizer Georges hadn't pulled any punches. "This competition with McCall must stop, chere."
"You're right." She'd been pleased by his shocked look. "Absolutely right. I know that Interpol is getting closer. So I have decided on a few small jobs in Asia to help me sharpen my skills, but I want to pick some specific ones depending on what McCall is up to."
"Didn't you just say I was right?"
She took a sip of wine and did her best to ignore the businessman trying to catch her eye. If he knew Georges was her godfather, and not the man she was digging gold from, his tune might change. She knew Georges had brass knuckles, a wicked blade, and a slim gun all beneath his tailored designer suit.
"Yes, you are, but hear me out. The next time I see McCall it will be to set him up. I am confident I can work out a deal: Interpol can take the Night Hawk down once and for all, and I shall entice them to broker a deal with me. The Simian has knowledge, names, dates, details they can only dream of."
"Chere, Interpol will not let you go so easily. They will take your offer but claim your soul."
"Let me work that out. I need to know what McCall is planning. Oh, I know all about the Sherbrook job and what he has lined up in Istanbul, but that's just two this year and he's being quiet. He has something big cooking."
Georges sat back, raising an imperious eyebrow as he swirled his vintage and sipped it delicately. His dark eyes glowed, proving he knew something and delighted in the power of his knowledge. "I will tell you, only if you promise to stay away from Cornwall and Istanbul. Promise me, chere."
"That all depends on how good this phantom job is. Istanbul is sapphires, and you know how I love them."
Negotiation was what Georges lived for and they bartered until their steaks came. Over rare meat and buttered potatoes, Georges warned her what he knew was second hand, gossip amongst fences.
"What do you know of the Leopard Diamond?"
Her eyes went misty. "Thirty-seven carats currently, it is light yellow with brown highlights under ultraviolet light, corrupted red phosphorescence, giving it the nickname of leopard. Mined in the seventeenth century from what is now Liberia it was traded without record between warlords primarily in the Arabic world.
"The first recorded possession was by Mehmed IV and legend has it his vizier purchased it and had a sorceress power a spell with it so the emperor was bespelled into giving up his powers. It was recorded at nearly forty-eight carats at the time. Since then it remained within the Ottoman empire until the eighteenth century when it was given to Catherine the Great in seventeen sixty-two, supposedly purchased by Potemkin. They say it was he who cut it to forty-two carats to bring out the leopard shine.
"Since then it bounced around the royals of Europe and allegedly a curse was born, that if it was possessed by a heart that had not known true love great ruin would fall. Someone attempted to break the curse and cut it to the present thirty-six and presented to Queen Victoria just a month before the death of the prince regent.
"It resided in the tower of London until the second world war when it was moved for safety during the bombings. A double agent got hold of it and it was headed for Mussolini's collection when a French resistor saved it.
"In nineteen fifty-three the Dauphin family successfully won it in court by claiming a distant relationship with both Catherine and Victoria. They paid nearly two hundred million U.S. for it in today's money and the last three generations have been on a slow slide to hell, resurrecting claims of the curse."
Georges' face shone with paternal pride. "Very good, you know your gems."
"I also know they keep it under lock and key and it is beyond grasping." Wistfully she sighed and took a bite of steak, daydreaming of the gem for a long moment. Curse or no, it was a prize worthy of being the crown jewel in any thief's career.
"Do you know the daughter has remarried? Pierre du Champ is a gigolo, not a very good one. He married for money and has burned through it. He is pushing the family to debt they cannot recover from and they have already taken drastic measures. It is known this will not save them, and in one year, perhaps two, they will auction off all, including the diamond."
Her fork clattered to her plate and Kerry felt her blood burn with the sensual promise of the ultimate score. To hold the Leopard Diamond in her hands...a thief would sell her soul for the chance.
"And McCall will go for it," Kerry wistfully sighed once more.
"Of course unloading it will be the difficult part. Perhaps only a handful of men can afford it with both cash and morals. He will need to assemble buyers first, men Interpol would very much like to get their hands on."
"The kind of men one could sell to Interpol so she may keep her soul?"
Georges nodded.
Kerry's mind snapped back to present. The four men who had agreed to bid on the diamond once McCall had it were now her insurance. Interpol knew nothing of them for that reason. Once McCall was found with the diamond on him Roger would move in, letting Interpol take custody rather than French authorities. McCall would offer to trade her as well as some of the few other thieves in existence and the four buyers for his freedom. But Kerry would get to them first. If McCall went quietly he got to live. If he fought the charges, Kerry would let him know that those four men would be happy to silence him forever to keep him quiet.
What game could McCall be playing? She had four days to find out, but more accurately she had four days to let Henry find out while she and Billy worked on the schematics and specifics.
Should she tell him the truth? God, to have someone to talk to besides Georges, who was the closest thing she had to a father. To have a lover to share herself with, someone to hold her tightly when she was afraid like this, fearing she was falling apart. It was so tempting, so wholly tempting, but perhaps that was the problem.
Maybe she didn't love Henry, but the idea of him. She stubbed out her cigarette and fought mad laughter. Two nights with the man and she was more confused than she had ever been.
Kerry stretched out, closed her eyes, and wondered for the first time in her life what was right, and what was wrong.
When she woke, she was in the bed, not the couch. She smelled coffee and bacon, eggs too, an American breakfast, not the light French fare she expected. Henry sat reading another damn law book at the foot of the bed, his wet hair long, his shirt off, pants loose and feet bare.
God, what a sight to wake up to! Something in her chest warmed. "Good morning."
"I had thought you wouldn't actually sleep on the couch," he drawled with good humor.
