“You’re staying at the same hotel as I am,” Karina said. “Come to a party tonight in my suite. I will have a proposition for you.”
“What kind of proposition?”
“You will find out tonight at my party.”
Dubai Prince Pays $2.7 Million for Camel at Camel Beauty Pageant
At a camel beauty pageant staged in the desert to “preserve the nomadic way of life” in the oil-rich kingdom, Dubai’s crown prince, the son of ruler Sheik Mohammed, paid $4.5 million dollars for sixteen camels, including a whopping $2.7 for one beauty.
Besides the purchase money if they sold their animals, the owners of the three most beautiful camels split a cash prize of more than $2 million.
Camels were judged by a panel who rated the animals’ necks, heads, lips, noses, humps, legs, and feet, and finally the bodies as a whole.
This is truly a case in which beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
16
An unpleasant surprise was waiting for me at my hotel and it wasn’t the luxuriousness of the suite. The Dubai philosophy of “Spare no expense to make it special and unique” held for the hotel that was on its own man-made island.
The Burj al-Arab advertised itself as the world’s first seven-star hotel. I don’t know how they determined the stars, but if it was a reflection of its rooms and services, it certainly deserved the rating. It was also an “all-suite” hotel.
With only a couple hundred accommodations, my “modest” two-level suite was four or five times larger than my Manhattan studio apartment. The bottom floor had a living and dining area with a guest bathroom; the stairway led up to a large bedroom with a king-sized bed, a dressing room, and a luxurious bathroom with a Jacuzzi bath. Best of all, I had windows with a floor-to-ceiling view of the Persian Gulf. Not to mention a forty-two-inch plasma-screen TV and a “pillow menu” featuring thirteen different pillows and quilts to choose from.
Also interesting was the wide ceiling mirror above the king-sized bed … too bad I had no one to share the view with, although when I entered my suite a candidate sat on my couch with his feet on my coffee table next to a cold beer, a magazine in his lap, and smoke curling up from a cigarette dangling from his lips.
Had he bothered to call first, I would have been slightly less annoyed. I might even have gotten into something more comfortable. Having bad taste in men, I found the man attractive. What I didn’t find attractive was the way he took me for granted. A simple phone call from the lobby would have worked wonders for my attitude.
“What is it about me,” I asked Yuri, “that makes men think they can sneak in and lurk in my room to surprise me when I return? First a crazy psycho. Now you. Have you ever heard of phoning to let me know you’re coming? Or even knocking? I might have had company.”
He hunched his shoulders and looked around innocently. “I must have walked into the wrong room.”
“Then why don’t you just walk out again. This is a nonsmoking room.”
“I doubt it. The rooms are so expensive, they probably let rich people smoke and simply replace the carpets and repaint for the next guest.”
“At least knock next time. And don’t come unless I invite you.”
He lifted his eyebrows. “Are you finished scolding me?”
“I’d like to be finished with you and this whole mess. What do you want? I saw you following me in that taxi.”
“It was an accident that the taxi stopped next to your limo. What did you think of the camel races?”
“I prefer camels over my present company.”
That got a laugh out of him.
I grabbed a cold bottle of water out of the fridge and stood at the window. I would have had a glass of wine, but the hot, dry air definitely called for something colder and wetter.
Out in the Gulf, a yacht only slightly smaller than a cruise ship cut across the sparkling waters. Looking at the view outside, I could have been at a hotel on the French Riviera instead of a man-made island just feet off the Arabian Desert.
Yuri came up beside me with his beer.
“What do you have to report?” he asked.
“Lipton wants me to find an icon for Nevsky.”
“I know that much.”
“Good. Now you know exactly as much as I do.”
I didn’t tell him what Lipton had shared with me for one reason—I didn’t trust Yuri. And I wanted to see some good faith in performing his promise to protect me. So far he had simply pushed me into the line of fire.
“What else did he tell you?”
“Just what I said. He won’t give me any details until it’s absolutely necessary.”
“He didn’t tell you what you would be looking for?”
I sighed. My whole life seemed to be going from one cross-examination to another. “Not yet.”
“Where is he sending you first?”
“Somewhere in Turkey.”
“It would not be wise to hold out on—”
“Damn it, I’m getting tired of being everyone’s punching bag. You people, the mafia, Lipton, Nevsky, his daughter—”
“What about his daughter? What did she say?”
“I don’t know, she wants to make me a proposition tonight. I can imagine what she wants. Just like you, she wants me to be a conduit to Lipton. But I’ve fulfilled my agreement with all of you people. I’m getting a seat on the next plane back to New York.”
I went for the phone to make the reservation.
“There’s been a complication,” he said.
I froze, then turned slowly to face him. “What do you mean … complication?”
“My superiors in Moscow need a little more time to deal with the Bratva. A few more days, they said.”
“Do you really think I’d believe that? That’s pure BS. You promised to get those bastards off my back if I came this far. I want you to keep your word.”
He shrugged. “When I wanted something, my father used to tell me that people in hell want ice water.”
“You’re just playing with me, aren’t you? You never intended to get them off my back.”
“No, that’s not true. We want your help. We need you. But this is a sensitive matter. My superior told me he cannot just call up the Bratva boss and tell him to leave you alone. It will take a little time, some personal—”
“Personal bullshit. You manipulated me into coming to Dubai and now you’re manipulating me again instead of fulfilling our agreement.”
He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter what you think I’m doing. It’s out of my control. I get my orders and I carry them out.”
“I don’t take orders.”
“That’s up to you. But if you leave our protection—”
“Get out of my room before I call hotel security and have you arrested for breaking in.”
He paused at the door. “Madison … I’m sorry. I didn’t lie to you when I told you that I could fix it. It will still be fixed. In the meantime—”
“In the meantime, I’ll do what I damn well please. Don’t slam the door on your way out.”
I was so angry, as soon as the door shut behind him I paced back and forth, cussing. I kept going for the phone, picking up the receiver and slamming it back down. I wanted desperately to call the airline. And knew I couldn’t.
They had me. The KGB, FSB, whatever the hell their initials were, mafia killers, Lipton the fraud, Nevsky the fanatic, the daughter … all of them had a piece of me. I felt like a chess piece being pushed and shoved in different directions.
I finally gave up worrying about an airplane ticket and began to worry about what I would wear to Karina Nevsky’s party. I didn’t know if the hotel had a clothing boutique, but if not, there had to be plenty of shops around that would love to service a Burj al-Arab guest.
I wasn’t in the mood to be a cheap date or cheap invitee or whatever it was called—I was in the mood to draw blood.
I picked up the phone and called the concierge’s desk.
“I need an evening dress for
a party tonight given by Patriarch Nevsky’s daughter. I want a selection of dresses in size six brought to me—and charged to my room.”
17
Party time and I was dressed to kill. The dress looked smart and sexy and I liked the way it hugged by body. I especially liked the price—I never asked how much the black designer dress cost. I merely signed for it.
The fact that my room was part of the Nevsky contingent worked magic. The woman who brought the selection of dresses even told me about the evening dress they had provided Karina.
“White silk,” she said. “Because Karina means pure.”
I wondered what that made me in my black cocktail dress.
Two security officers were posted outside Karina’s suite, but they merely nodded at me as I was welcomed in by a butler.
Her suite was about twice the size of mine, literally what they call back home a starter palace. I could only imagine what her father’s quarters were like.
The conservative tone of the party surprised me the moment I entered and heard the piano player crooning old Frank Sinatra songs.
The partygoers were in their twenties and early thirties, with all the chic clothes and jewelry that money could buy. A few of the men were dressed in traditional Arab garments and headpieces, heavy with gold chains, oversized, ridiculously expensive watches, and rings with gems only slightly less noticeable than Christmas tree ornaments. A couple of “Arabs” were wannabe Lawrences of Arabia rather than ethnic Semites. Taking a second look, I realized one was a Loretta of Arabia.
I expected a European nightclub atmosphere with rich, young Eurotrash wearing clothes seen in luxury designer magazines—and American wannabes trying hard to look and dress like rich young Eurotrash dressing out of magazine ads.
I didn’t sense any religious fervor, but maybe that was because Patriarch Nevsky wasn’t in attendance. But the place had the smell of money. Everything in Dubai had it—even the exhaust from high-end cars smelled expensive.
My instant suspicion was that her father was too close in residence for her to really party, or maybe Karina was more conventional than I took her to be. But I wasn’t ready to drop my first impression. There was more to Karina than met the eye, and I was reasonably certain that I wouldn’t like what I found if I probed too deep.
I wandered a little, brushing by people without connecting with anyone, and headed for a glass of champagne and finger food. I asked myself why I had bothered to show up and decided to make an exit, but Karina spotted me and separated herself from a group and motioned me over to the floor-to-ceiling windows where she was standing.
I knew she hadn’t called me over to show me the view. Having me come to her was a power play. It wasn’t necessary. She had nothing I wanted. I disliked her enough not to be tempted even by her money.
She gave my outfit a good look as I walked toward her, making it obvious that she was appraising it.
“What a lovely dress. Something from the days when you were still a major player in the art scene?”
Wait till you get the bill, bitch.
I didn’t say it, but I was tempted. There was no reason for her to be catty.
I just smiled and let her remark hang in the air.
She couldn’t handle the silence—she avoided my eyes and pretended to be engrossed in action across the room.
The woman was pure, all right—pure mean all the way through. I realized she lacked confidence. She had to put me down in order to feel superior because deep down she questioned her own worth.
I’d seen that before with people who lacked confidence, especially ones who’d never really had their faces pushed into the mud because they’d always had a buffer of money to save them. She didn’t know how to deal with others, at least other women. Men were a lot easier to handle—they thought with the brain in their pants first.
I actually felt sorry for her. For a brief moment. She was too rich and pampered for me to give her any real sympathy.
Probably has to fake her orgasms, too, I thought, with pure malice in my own heart.
She looked around the room and then spoke to me in a confidential tone. “I have a proposition for you.”
She gave me one of her father’s burning stares. I stared back, keeping my features neutral.
“Report to me everything you discover and I will double your money.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Your father already offered to double the money.”
“The patriarch’s offer is a reward for finding the icon. I will pay you as you go along. You are getting twenty thousand dollars from Lipton for the next phase of the quest. Keep me informed and I’ll pay you the same amount. If your information is truthful, I will pay even more.”
The longer I stuck around, the more the price went up. I wondered what it would be tomorrow. Of course, Karina wasn’t just buying information—she thought my integrity had a price.
“I don’t know if I should laugh or get mad.” I shook my head and stared at her as if I were studying her. “I’m afraid you’ve made a mistake. I don’t backstab and I don’t sell my talents like a whore. You must have thought I was on your own level.”
Her face flushed from rage. “Who do you—”
I didn’t let her finish. “Someone with integ—”
“Karina!” a male voice suddenly said. “Is this the expert you told me about?”
The comment exploded between us and we both took a fraction of a moment to recover our ladylike composures.
A tall, athletically built young man with blond hair and classic Slavic sculptured cheekbones asked the question in English, but with a decidedly Russian accent. The young woman beside him was a chip off the same block.
Karina’s expression changed almost instantly. Miraculously.
“Yes.” She smiled. “Pavel, Tamara, this is Madison Dupre.”
After polite handshakes—both firm I might add—I raised my eyebrows and asked, “What kind of expert do you need?” I almost added that there was so much crap being thrown around, the place needed a plumber.
“Mesopotamian art,” Pavel said. He smiled, exposing perfect white teeth. They went nicely with his pretty blue eyes.
I liked him immediately.
I nodded and smiled. “I’m guilty. Are you planning to buy a piece?”
I didn’t want to sound too eager, but I was surrounded by wealthy people in one of the richest cities on the planet. I’d stick around if I got work. A big commission would do wonders for me.
“My brother made a quick decision and already did,” Tamara said. She laughed. “Now he needs someone to tell him what he’s bought.”
Like her brother, she came across as pleasant and courteous. I liked her, too. I wondered if they were twins. Both so fresh and athletic-looking, they seemed like they could leap tall buildings. They also looked vaguely familiar to me.
“My turn to be guilty,” he said. “I was offered an artifact at what I thought was a bargain price and bought it on impulse.”
That was his mistake. When it came to Mesopotamian artifacts, most of which came from modern-day Iraq, a “bargain price” usually translated to being offered something under the table at a ridiculously low price, meaning it was either stolen from a collector, looted from an archeological site or museum, or a fake—and most likely the latter.
In any case, it didn’t sound like there would be a big commission in it for me because the damage was already done.
“I’m afraid I’m not going to be in Dubai long—”
“When are you leaving?” Karina asked.
I gave her a smile. “Very soon.”
“You obviously don’t follow tennis,” Karina said, a sneer in her voice. “Pavel and Tamara are two of the world’s top ten tennis players.”
Now I knew why they looked so familiar. A TV presentation on the plane about the charms of Dubai—a world-class golf tournament, world-class horse racing, and world-class tennis—had shown the twins playing an exhibition game of tennis on the helipad ato
p the Burj al-Arab Hotel.
“I don’t blame you if you don’t follow tennis,” Tamara said. “It’s really a boring game except for fanatics like us who live it and love it. And that makes us boring.”
Both of the players seemed nice. Much nicer than their hostess. And it occurred to me that big-time tennis players made big money, so they might be in the market for other pieces—not to mention the possibility of referring other people to me.
“I won’t be in Dubai long, but I’d like to help you out.”
“I have it in my room on the next floor up,” Pavel said. “Perhaps if you can just take a look in the morning? Or even just a quick look tonight after the party? I’ll be happy to pay your customary fee.”
“We can do it now if you like. I just flew in this morning and I’m going to hit my bed early. As for a fee, I’m too busy right now to take on an assignment, but I’d be happy to look at it as an accommodation. Anything for a friend of Karina’s.”
And anything to get me away from her sneers and boring party.
“Wonderful. Let’s go,” he said, taking my arm.
As we went for the door, with me in the middle—Pavel was about six feet two and Tamara only a couple inches shorter—I felt small and insignificant but well protected.
I was glad the two of them appeared when they did. The verbal exchange between me and Karina was about to get uglier.
“Thanks for coming to my rescue back there,” I said as we waited for the elevator.
“I had to bite my lip when you made that comment about doing a favor for Karina’s friends,” Tamara said. “I don’t know if she has any friends.”
Pavel grinned down at me. “It looked like she was about to pounce on you with her claws when we walked up. And you looked ready to punch her one. We should get a discount for rescuing you from her.”
“Only if you promise to sign a tennis ball for me.”
In the elevator, Pavel gave me an appraising look and asked, “Does an antiquities expert have a bagful of scientific instruments available to study artifacts, like those old-fashioned doctors who carried around medical instruments?”
The Shroud Page 11
