Emerald

by Garner Scott Odell

  The flash-back faded as he saw Emily walk into the bar and look around. He remained seated and, after a few moments, she finally spotted him, quickly walked back and sat opposite.

  “Hello Klaus.”

  “Emily, my cherub, how are you tonight? You look luscious enough to eat. Maybe I will later.” Emily blushed, burying her head in one of the dirty menus. “Please don’t say things like that in public, Klaus. I have a hard time concentrating.” “Well, my hefty tart, that is just what you’re supposed to concentrate on: the rocking and rolling of your bed tonight.” Hans leered at her and asked, “Wine? Or a beer? No, how about an aperitif? That should cool you down for a bit. But not for too long! Waiter!”

  “Klaus, why are we meeting in this dirty bar? I don’t like this place and I almost didn’t come in when the cab driver stopped here. This doesn’t seem like a place you’d like.”

  “I know Emily. I wouldn’t normally come to a place like this, but it is owned by an old friend of mine and I wanted to see him and give him a little trade. We won’t stay long, and believe me, you’re perfectly safe here with me.”

  After their orders were taken, Hans, his shoeless foot rubbing the inside of her leg under the table, leaned over and whispered “What have you found to share with Pa-Pa tonight? Did you find out anything about auctioning that special emerald I spoke to you about?” My emerald he meant, but did not say it.

  Emily looked around nervously, and said quietly, “I’m not sure yet, Klaus”

  “What do you mean, I’m not sure yet?”

  “Well, I did happen to overhear a telephone conversation between Mr. Brunstein, from the bank and Dr. Franz. Mr. Brunstein said that they would not be able to release that emerald for an auction until the heirs of the owners had been contacted. I had to quickly hang up the phone then because someone came into the office. That’s all I got to hear.”

  “That’s really all you know then.”

  Hans was forcing Emily’s leg against the edge of the table leg, hoping a little pain might help her remember a few more details.

  “Honestly Klaus, that’s all I know right now. Ouch, Klaus you’re hurting my leg.”

  The waiter reappeared with their drinks and left. Hans was quiet staring into space.

  “What’s wrong, Klaus? I’ll let you know when the auction is scheduled for that stone, and besides I’ll check our coming auctions to see if there are any other jewels you might be interested in. Why is this one so important to you?”

  “You wouldn’t understand. I’ve wanted this one for such a long time now.”

  Emily hadn’t touched her wine yet and touched Hans hand and asked, “Can’t we leave this awful place and go to somewhere a little nicer?”

  Angrily, Hans glanced at his Rolex and said, “No, if you’re so disgusted with my friend’s establishment, why don’t I get you a cab and just send you home?”

  CHAPTER 9

  Munich - - - Geneva

  After going through customs Tam leaned against the terminal wall in the Munich airport and took out the letter of instructions from White Paper Fan. He was tired after the long flight from Hong Kong and couldn’t remember the name of the hotel where he was supposed to stay. He unfolded the letter and saw the name: Maritim Hotel, Goethe Strasse 7, Munich. Putting the letter back in the inside pocket of his jacket and walked over to the luggage area and found his bag still circulating on the near empty carousel. Bag in hand he exited the terminal, found a taxi, threw his bag into the back seat and got in. He asked the driver if he knew Maritim Hotel on Goethe Strasse. The driver nodded and drove off. Tam began to watch the city flash by, but his lack of sleep caught up and he closed his eyes, and his head drooped.

  The cab stopped suddenly. Tam’s head lifted and he saw that they were in the portico of a large, opulent, hotel. The driver turned to Tam and said, “Hotel Maritim, Herr.” Tam took some of the German money out of the envelope in his pocket and handed it to the driver. “Take what I owe you. I don’t know about German money.” The driver took some bills and gave the rest back. Suddenly the rear taxi door was opened by a very large man dressed in a bright red uniform covered with so much gold braid and gold buttons that Tam didn’t whether he should salute him or what. “Welcome to Hotel Maritim, Sir.”

  Tam climbed out of the taxi and the red uniform reached for his bag. Tam said, “No, no, I will carry that myself, please.” The door-man nodded, smiled and led him through double glass doors which rose at least four feet above his head, and ushered him into an elegant hotel lobby. Tam looked around amazed at the polished, brown marble floors, the dozens of potted trees and flowers and huge golden chandelier overhead. Confused by the contrast of his run down apartment in Hong Kong he was used to, he wondered if he had read the hotel name correctly in his instructions. At the registration desk a well dressed clerk said, “Good evening, Sir, may I have your passport, please.”

  He flipped open the passport and said, “Ah, Mr. Stratton, if you would please fill out this registration card, I’ll be right back.”

  As he turned to leave the desk and walk toward a closed door, Tam responded, “Hey, don’t take my passport away,” but the clerk kept going and disappeared through the door. Concerned, Tam looked around to see if there were any security people hovering near by paying attention to him. Seeing none, he wondered if he should climb over the counter and try to get his passport back, but then the door behind the counter opened again and another man, with a white carnation in his buttonhole, followed by the first clerk, approached the desk. The man with the passport in his hand looked at Tam and said, “Sorry to keep you waiting, Mr. Stratton, I am Tony Sadler, the manager of this establishment.” His English was excellent, with a slight trace of German. “We are so glad to have you with us and please let me know, personally, if we can do anything for you. Here is your passport, the key to you suite and a brochure of our hotel and one about Munich. I hope you have a pleasant stay in our lovely city. Oh, I almost forgot. This envelope is from Dr. Yang.” Turning toward the lobby he punched a brass bell on the counter and in a loud voice said “bell-man!”

  “Just give your luggage to the bell-boy. He will show you to your suite, and thank you again for staying with us.”

  His head whirling with the fancy surroundings and the courtesy of the manager, Tam rather meekly allowed the bell-man to take his battered bag and lead him to the elevator.

  Waking up slowly Tam wasn’t sure where he was for a moment. Getting up, he sat on the edge of the bed and worked on getting his bearings. Let’s see, I am in Munich, Germany, in a fancy hotel, with free Gin in a mini-bar, and the note from Dr. Yang said that there would be someone in a black BMW outside the hotel entrance to pick me up at 10:00 this morning. Looking at the bedside clock he saw that it was almost eight o’clock. Temped to crawl back into the bed like he’d never slept in before, he decided rather to take a shower and perhaps go down to the lobby and see if he could find something to eat before he went to see this Dr. Yang.

  A few minutes after eight, Tam pushed open the huge glass doors of the hotel and saw a large black BMW under the portico, engine running and a tall slender Asian man pacing back and forth beside the car. The man looked at Tam, raised his arms in a gesture that clearly said, it’s about time, and walked around to the driver’s side and got in. Tam hurried to the car and got in the passengers side. Tires squealed and the driver, without looking at Tam, said in broken English, “Dr. Yang no like wait,” and they rushed out of the hotel drive. Silence was sound of choice on the twenty minute drive through the city, until they stopped in front of a large, multi-storied building marked München Gemeinschaft Krankenhaus. The driver, still looking straight ahead said, “Go front desk, ask where Dr. Yang, hurry.”

  Tam left the BMW with the non-conversive driver, slammed the car door, and walked laughing into the hospital.

  The antiseptic building smelled and looked like every hospital Tam had even been in, even though he had usually been in them smelling and looking from
the bed of a gurney. At a counter marked Informationen he asked where he could find Dr. Yang. Following the direction given to him he walked on the worn linoleum through the dull green corridors until the back letters on the glass panel of a door said, Chen Yang, M.D., PhD. - - - Director of the Yang Life Institute. Tam knocked lightly.

  A high pitched voice from within loudly responded to the knocking, “Come in Mr. Tam. You are late!”

  Seated behind a cluttered desk sat a white coat covering a slender body that looked as if it would snap in two if a strong wind blew against it. Dr. Yang’s oversize head was completely bald and shined as a polished knob of teak. Large eyes peered at Tam through heavy glasses and the skin on his face looked more like old parchment.

  “Sit down. I understand from my old friend, White Paper Fan, that this assignment for the Tong may be your least assignment. If this is so, and I have no reason to doubt it, I presume that you will do everything in you possibly can to complete your little project. The emerald is the key to my new healing hospital and I must have that stone soon so the hospital will open on time.”

  Tam interrupted, “Why do you need a gem in order to open your hospital, or whatever you call it?”

  “It’s really none of your business, Mr. Tam, but since you ask I will tell you. The miracle healing process that I have spent my lifetime researching and perfecting is based on the ancient understanding of the healing properties of a mineral called beryl that when colored green by trace amounts of chromium and sometimes vanadium is commonly known as emerald. Emerald brings life, nourishment, and healing to the physical body. It floods the physical body with the green ray’s life-giving energy and gradually neutralizes the disharmonies that cause disease. If enough emerald is worn, it also works on healing the mental and emotional causes of physical illness. By strengthening your physical body’s weakest link, emerald uplifts, strengthens, and vitalizes your body as a whole, making it easier for you to open to higher states of consciousness. Therefore the Wittelsbach Emerald will set a new standard for healing in my Yang Life Institute and through out the world. That’s all you need to know. Just get that emerald for me, or you will wish your had remained in Honk Kong. I might add that even though White Paper fan has entrusted you with the necessary documentation and papers to bid on the emerald at the auction in Geneva, I really don’t trust you, and I have decided that there will be someone around you at all times keeping my eye on you. Do you understand, Mr. Tam?”

  Tam wasn’t easily frightened, but this man sent shivers down his spine. He wasn’t sure if it was how self assured he was, his obvious relation to the Tong, or those ebony eyes that seemed to be dead yet seemed to burn straight through him. Tam shuttered.

  “Now go back to Geneva, Mr. Tam, and remember this old Chinese proverb: Not only can water float a boat, it can sink it also. Leave quickly; I have much work still to do.”

  CHAPTER 10

  Geneva

  The telephone between the two beds jangled. Miriam retreated to the bathroom while David lifted the receiver to his ear and listened for a moment. He put his hand over the phone and asked, “Miriam, Servette’s driver is in the lobby. Are you ready?”

  “Give me five, David.”

  “We’ll be down in ten minutes.”

  Fifteen minutes later, David and Miriam entered the lobby. A uniformed chauffer greeted them in one of the deepest voices they had ever heard, saying he would pull the car up front and walked out.

  Half an hour later, the black Peugeot turned off the main thoroughfare and stopped in front of a large filigreed wrought iron gate. With no apparent signal from the residence, the gate swung open. The car proceeded toward a large apartment building on their left driving slowly on the circular drive through gardens that looked more like a botanical garden than a landscaped apartment complex. Their driver stopped the car under the portico of the building, got out and opened the door on Miriam’s side and then walked around to open the door for David. Without a word, he ushered them through the large ornate double-glass doors and stopped in front of the elevator. He pushed one of the buttons.

  “Inspector Servette will meet you when you leave the lift,” the driver said in that deep voice. With a slight bow, he turned with military precision and proceeded back toward the car.

  “Not much of a conversationalist,” David commented as the elevator closed.

  “Sound like someone else I know,” Miriam said with a straight face.

  The small elevator carried them up and when the doors opened, there standing on a white marble floor was Inspector Servette, dressed in ecru, linen slacks, a black silk shirt, the top two buttons undone, and black paten loafers without socks.

  “Welcome to my home.”

  The Inspector bent slightly and kissed the back of Miriam’s hand. Then, giving David a firm handshake, and led them into a glorious apartment filled with the most exquisite antiques they had ever seen. When they entered the living room, another man rose to greet them.

  “David and Miriam, I’d like you to meet Mr. Max Bennett. Max is my dearest friend, one of the best undercover people I know. He has his hand on the pulse of every shady matter I need to know in this city. He speaks half-a-dozen languages, holds black belts in several martial arts and is the only person I know who can out-shoot me on the pistol range.”

  “It is very nice to meet you, Mr. Bennett.” David reached out and warmly shook the hand extended to him. He could tell just by the grip that this was a man to reckon with. “From that introduction I certainly don’t want to be your enemy.”

  “Max has agreed to be, how should I say, your ‘tourist guide’, while you are in Geneva. He will be with you constantly, in your hair, under your skin, even though you might not see him. I thought this would be a good time to get acquainted.”

  Max turned. “Miriam, what a lovely name. Miriam was the daughter of Moses and a prophetess in the Old Testament, wasn’t she?”

  “My namesake, Mr. Bennett, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  Greetings completed, Inspector Servette indicated that they should sit, and then rang a small silver bell. A man several inches taller than the inspector flowed rather that walked into the room. He was the color of ebony and dressed in a long flowing red, blue and black caftan. His head was shaved, but the most remarkable feature was the one eye that was completely sealed shut by a dark diagonal scar that ran from his hairline to the bottom of his nose.

  Servette relayed their drink orders to the tall African, and when the striking man left the room, said to the Mossad duo, “Let me tell you a little about my friend, Josef, there. Almost twenty years ago, I was on a mission to Sudan. I won’t go into detail, but in the heat of a, shall I say, most difficult situation, I rescued Josef from a sadistic torturer, and he has been my grateful shadow ever since. He lost his tongue as well as the eye in that conflict, so he can’t speak. But he sees everything with that right eye of his. There is no one I’d rather have on my side in any difficult situation. He also will be working with you along with Max here.”

  The African returned to the room, served their drinks, and placed a tray of hors d’oeuvers on the large round coffee table in the middle of the room.

  “Thank you, Josef. Many of these delicacies are specialties of the Sudan. Be assured that if Josef fixed them, they will be delicious. Help yourself, please. And one more thing - - - let’s not talk any business until after dinner - - - I can assure you, it will be a very special dinner.”

  After an hour filled with lively conversation covering antiques, skiing trips to Zermatt, several people they knew in common and the weather in both Geneva and Israel, a gong rang quietly and Servette announced, “Josef is ready for us. I hope you are ready for Josef.”

  Inspector Servette ushered them into the dining room and Miriam gasped. “You shouldn’t have gone to all this trouble for us, Inspector.”

  “Nonsense, my dear, it wasn’t any trouble at all. You see, Josef is so bored with our life here in Geneva that he positively begs
me to have dinner parties several times a month just so he can have something to do. Miriam, please sit here, beside Max. David, sit there opposite, and I will sit here opposite the place set for my wife, bless her departed soul. Please forgive that little indulgence of mine, but when her place is set, I feel that she is still here with me.”

  The two large silver candelabras festooned with dozens of candles cast a dream-like quality into the elegant room. Like a shadow Josef entered the room and removed the silver service plates from in front of each person and left the room. In a moment he returned, pushing a teacart of china plates. Just before placing the first plate in front of Miriam, he handed Servette a small card. Servette read it aloud, “Madame and Monsieur. Mussels baked with cream and Pineau de Charentes.”

  David shot a quick look at Miriam who raised an eyebrow in response. He asked, “Does Josef always cook like this, Inspector?”

  “Not always. Josef is just as adept at a bag-lunch as he is at superb cuisine. He is quite unusual. Fine cooking is just one of a great many of his talents. He can split an apple at 50 paces with a throwing knife and is equally lethal with a pistol, rifle, sword or blowgun. He has some advanced degree black belts in several of the martial arts and even a degree in Philosophy from the University of Geneva. David looked at Miriam in amazement.

  David looked up from the last remaining mussel on his plate, and with a laugh said, “With all Josef’s talents - - - to say nothing of Max’s - - - why did you call us to help you with the murders?”

  “Please don’t be offended. I think we really could have taken care of the situation at hand by ourselves, but, according to the instructions from Interpol, The Office was to be contacted, if certain criterion arose. It did and we called. You are here, and we thank you for your help. We will certainly be most cooperative.”