Emerald

by Garner Scott Odell

  The only thing he had left to do was drive back to Geneva for the auction. He knew his financial resources were available in the Morganheiser account at the Bank du Mont Blanc, a little over seven hundred thousand Swiss francs. Friday was four days away, but the wait felt eternal. As soon as he took possession of the emerald, he would fly back to Argentina for a long, sweet vacation.

  Everything was going according to plan. He drove cautiously through Munich until he reached the highway, then sped off toward Geneva.

  He spent the drive continuing to rehearse his plan. He had to maintain his anonymity but also had to be able to bear the spotlight during the auction. In his new disguise, no one would suspect he was a brash, well endowed, blonde from Austria. If this came off without a hitch, then nothing would ever stand in his way again. He was brutally honest with himself about what he could do in each worst case scenario; if he felt there was any doubt that he could succeed, he developed an alternative action plan to cover any emergency.

  Emily was disappointed when she learned from her phone call Klaus would not be attending the auction. He was hospitalized with pneumonia, so he was sending his sister, Monique, in his place. That seemed strange because he didn’t sound very sick over the phone. He requested that she relay this to Dr. Franz as well as the relevant personnel at Christie’s, and to the Bank du Mont Blanc, where Monique would have access to his account. He promised to come see her as soon as he felt better but because of some pressing business that probably would not be for a month or so. He promised then to take her away for a weekend on the Riviera. He thanked her for handling this matter of communicating on his behalf for his sister. He looked forward to seeing her sweet face.

  Of course, Emily had taken care of everything. He only had only to ask.

  CHAPTER 16

  Geneva

  After the six hour drive back to Geneva David pulled into the parking lot behind the Geneva’s Central Police station, got out of the car and stretched. The late afternoon sun cast shadows over the Jura Mountains leaving lacey grey patterns on the asphalt.

  Turning as Miriam left the car he said, “Thanks for helping with the driving, Miriam. Say, I didn’t know you used to drive Formula cars on the Nürburgring.”

  “Too fast for you, my friend? I didn’t see you closing your eyes or any white knuckles when you grabbed the chicken bar.”

  “No really, I am quite impressed with your driving skills.”

  As she turned to walk into the back door of the police station, Miriam replied over her shoulder, “Thanks, I think.”

  Servette looked up from the folder he was reading and waved the duo to the two chairs in front of his desk that, as usual, was hidden under the piles of paper work.

  “Long drive? Sure it was,” Piet greeted them. “I’ve done it a few times in my lifetime, believe me. Would either of you like a Coke or a bottle of water?

  Both agents shook their heads and watched as the chief rummaged in a desk drawer and pulled out a battered briar pipe and began filling it with tobacco. Flicking a silver lighter, he pulled on the pipe over and over until the office was half filled with a grey noxious smoke.

  Waving his hand through the smoke, Servette laughed and said, “Sorry about that. It’s my one sin and you can blame your boss for it. I had given up the smoking habit years ago until Levi and I spent a weekend together last year at an international forensics conference on Malta. Joining his pipe smoking was the only way I could counteract that noxious Turkish he smokes.”

  The air in the office was almost breathable again when Servette flicked his lighter again to re-light his dead tobacco.

  “So what did you find out in Munich?”

  After sharing with Servette their frustration and uncertainty about Bruno and his Munich Police Department, they told about their visit to the Bavarian National Library and how helpful Frau Kratz was in putting some history behind the Wittlesbach Emerald and Han’s family connection to it.

  “We still don’t know really why he is after the emerald, or why he is killing people in Europe, but things are slowly coming into perspective,” Miriam said as she vigorously waved more pipe smoke away. “Where do you buy that vile pipe tobacco, Piet? Surely you can find some that doesn’t smell like burning garbage.”

  “My dear Miriam, what you probably don’t know is that I am, more or less, a Catholic. That is I do go to mass on Easter and Christmas. However I am much more liberal than much of the doctrines rained down on us from Rome, and it gives me great pleasure to puff on my pipe in which is burning a tobacco called Three Nuns. In my own way it’s a small poke in the eye of the church.”

  Miriam and David laughed. Survette turned, and put the still smoking pipe down behind him on the window ledge.

  “Sorry about that. Besides poking fun at the church, it really gives me lots of uninterrupted time in my office so I can organize my files. When I stoke up my pipe I leave the door open and no one, it seems, wants to come in and bother me. Enough of this, we need to talk about the auction. The Emerald in question will indeed be in the auction tomorrow at the Four Seasons Hotel des Bergues on the other side of the lake. I think I told you that Josef made contact with an interesting man from Hong Kong who will also be bidding on that stone. Seems that a Triad he works for wants it for some reason, just why, we don’t know. I think it’s likely, after talking this morning to Levi, that you both should be at the auction, just in case your killer happens to show up. We have no definite reasons to believe that he will, just that it’s a possibility. All you have to do is register with the Christie security at the hotel and keep your eyes open. I have made the necessary connection for you there both with Jacob Metz the manager of the auction house and he with their security staff so you will be able to go armed without any trouble. He’s not too pleased that outsiders will be there armed, but he agreed, as a favor to me. Also, Josef has asked that you not acknowledge him or his friend from Hong Kong, just so you won’t spook him. I think after your day on the road you’ll probably want some rest before the auction tomorrow. Keep in touch and let me know what is going on as soon as you can after the auction.

  “Piet, we really don’t know what this killer looks like. All we have is that computer enhanced photo that was taken in 1960. Even if he is this millionaire from Buenos Aires there doesn’t seem to be any photographs of him. Evidently he doesn’t have a driver’s license and the information our Research Department turned up he has been very careful to keep completely away from cameras and photographers. Seems like he is well known in Argentina but no one really knows what he looks like. This is another part of his psychopathic nature, I guess.”

  “Yes I know, but perhaps you can spot someone that seems to fit what we know about him, as little as that is. Anyway let me know what you find out when the auction is over.”

  On their way back up to their hotel rooms, Miriam said, “Thank you for the good dinner conversation tonight, David. It was good to get better acquainted with you. I knew nothing about your family. The stories of survival from the Holocaust are so sad and at the same time very inspirational.”

  As they entered Miriam’s room David replied, “I think it’s amazing that my family may have known your family since they could have sailed on the same ship to Australia in the thirties before the war really broke out. Not only that but then both of our families immigrated to Palestine and settled in towns only twenty three miles apart.”

  “Small world isn’t it, David?”

  Miriam walked over to David and gave him hug and a kiss on his cheek.

  “Think we’d better call Levi and let him know what we’ve been up to?”

  While David was in conversation with their boss for quite a while, Miriam first kicked off her shoes, took the rubber band from her ponytail and shook out her hair and lounged in the easy chair opposite David on the phone. She walked into the bathroom, shut the door and took a long hot bath. Wrapping her wet hair in one towel and herself in another she went back into her room and found that Dav
id had finished talking to Levi. David looked at her and whistled. “I’m sure glad you didn’t come back looking like that when I was talking to Levi or I would not have been able to concentrate on what he was telling me.”

  Miriam smiled and responded, “Thanks again, I think. So what did you find out?”

  “Not too much really, Malcolm and the guys he’s working with down in the Research ‘Think Tank’ believe that our killer had some sort of psychotic break in Argentina a few years ago and his warped mind decided finally to avenge his father’s 1960 death. This break changed a well-respected, wealthy business man to give up his rather plush life in Buenos Aires and come to Europe to do his dirty work. They also came up with much of the same story that we learned in the Munich library and think that it just may be that Hans is after the emerald because he thinks it is his rightful inheritance, in spite of the fact that his grandfather disinherited his father in the thirties, because he joined the Nazi Party.

  “So we’ve got perhaps a psychopath out for revenge by killing Jews and hunting for his long lost inheritance in spite of being a multi-millionaire. And furthermore, Miss Wagner or Mrs. Cohen, or whatever your name is, would you please try a little harder to keep that towel closed around your beautiful legs?”

  David got up from the desk, walked over and gave Miriam a kiss on the top of her head, unlocked the door to his room and disappeared. Miriam touched the top of her head, turned and watched David’s back disappear through the door between their rooms, and wondered if she should follow him.

  CHAPTER 17

  Geneva

  Three-thousand, three-thousand-two-hundred for the gentleman in the back… three-thousand-five-hundred for you, madam… three-thousand-eight-hundred on the phone. Four-thousand from an online bidder.

  Bidding amounts fly in rapid succession. The eyes of the auctioneer, standing at the pulpit-like rostrum, dart from one end of the room to the other, never missing a bid. The mood is electrifying. Finally, the gavel comes down with a thud. Sold!

  This is a daily scenario in Christie’s salerooms worldwide. As the world’s leading fine art auctioneer, Christie’s has sold fine art, furniture, jewelry and wine since James Christie conducted the first sale in London on 5 December 1766.

  Christie’s Geneva lies at the heart of the city’s historic center, in a listed 16th century building once used as a dormitory for monks from the nearby St. Pierre Cathedral, where John Calvin preached from 1536 to 1564, inflaming the protestant reformation.

  Mirroring the city’s development into both Europe’s foremost center for jewelry and the watch capital of the world, Christie’s Geneva now focuses on Jewelry, Watches and Wine auctions, held twice a year in May and November, at the Four Seasons Hotel des Bergues.

  The next morning after a breakfast of bagels, orange juice and two tall Cappuccinos in the hotel coffee shop David and Miriam drove through the bustling morning city, across the Mont Blanc Bridge and immediately turned left on Quai des Bergues.

  Pointing at an imposing building in neo-classic architectural style highlighted with enough gold trim to impress any millionaire just as they turned Miriam exclaimed. “That’s got to be it. It’s beautiful, David. Why aren’t we staying there?

  David responded quietly, “Because, Mrs. Cline, we are working, not on holiday and drove under the hotel portico where a tall doorman in a white top hat and full frock coat came toward them, showing a perfect smile that probably paid for his dentist’s new car.

  “Tell him were here for the auction and ask where we should park.”

  Following the directions, they drove down into the underground parking area, showed their auction passes and identification to a heavily armed, uniformed man and were directed to a vacant spot between a black Bentley Continental convertible and a Ferrari red Bertinetta. As David gently eased their rented Peugeot between the two expensive cars, Miriam laughed, “I hope I can get out without denting the black beauty on my side.”

  “I do too, or we may be on the next slow boat back to the Holy Land.”

  As the duo got carefully out of their car another uniformed security officer approached and directed them to an elevator, informing them that they would be met on the first floor by Mr. Metz.

  The elevator doors slid open and standing in front of them was a frowning man, slightly taller than David, with bulging muscles noticeably outlining a charcoal Valentino business suit. His head was polished to a gloss and he didn’t seem too happy to see them. After showing their passports and photo ID’s to the man identified as Mike Metz on a silver badge above his jacket pocket, he snapped them shut and said, “You’re expected.” Tapping his side-arm and pointing to David’s suit jacket he continued in an almost hostile voice, “But you both will have to leave your weapons here in our safe keeping until your ready to leave the promises.” David looked at Miriam and she shrugged.

  “But I thought,” David began to argue.

  “I don’t care what you thought. I’m in charge of security here and you’ll do what I ask. Just lay then on the desk there, and don’t forget those little toys on your ankles also.

  Grinning he continued, “Jake, will you unload our friends weapons and then escort them into the auction gallery.”

  Trying hard to stuff down their anger, David and Miriam were marched down the lovely pastel hall on thick, sky-blue carpeting into the imposing Lobby. It was full of fresh-cut flowers and potted plants, bright and elegantly furnished. The high ceilings and soaring white columns bounced back the sunlight that streamed in through to porticos and open French doors. In between two burly security men they were herded to the open door to the auction room.

  After they were seated, just before the bidding started David pointed to two empty chairs near the rear on the far side of the large auction hall. After walking sidewise between rows of the rich and famous dressed in fur, silk and the latest fashion in French perfume, they took their seats. Most of the grey-white room was filled with people either quietly ignoring their neighbor or engrossed in reading the auction catalogue. Miriam spotted Josef out of the corner of her eye but did not acknowledge him. David whispered in Miriam’s ear, “Check out our security friends along the walls with their roaming eyes.” She nodded and continued reading the glossy catalogue.

  “There are several items going up for sale today you could get me for my birthday, if you’re in a generous mood. I’ll get you one of those bidding paddles, if you want.”

  “Right, dream on Mrs. Cohen. I don’t even know when your birthday is.”

  Tam walked down the center aisle and sat midway among the rows of rapidly filling straight-backed mahogany chairs, which were smashed tightly together to maximize the limited space. Behind the pulpit like rostrum was a revolving glass case and, next to it, a bank of telephones staffed by several Christie’s employees. He noticed a heavy-set Chinese man, making his way to a seat in the far left corner, and wondered if he was a watch-dog from the Triad. A blonde, buxom lady with purple eye shadow above her green eyes was a couple of rows back and when he looked her way she pursed her ruby lips as if the whole event was a great waste of her valuable time. He watched as she arranged her oval-necked, long-sleeved, blue velvet dress carefully as if she was about to hold court. She pushed the chairs on either side of her as far away from her as she could and placed her huge, shiny black purse on the floor by the side of her chair. Ten minutes before the auction, Tam noted the heavy presence of private security guards, standing along each side wall scanning the gathering guests like they were watching a tennis match. The elegant grandfather’s clock to the left of the auction podium began striking the hour and the room became as quiet as a church at prayer.

  The auctioneer entered, took his place at the podium, and looked over the crowd, impatiently waiting for the last of the guests to be seated. He had a cavalier attitude that indicated he felt his position was below his importance. Finally glancing at the large wall clock, in a deep-toned voice, he announced the opening of the ninety-third auction o
f Christie’s International, Geneva, welcomed the guests with the warmth of a maǐtre d’ of a plush restaurant, and loudly pounded his gavel in an explanation point. From the glass case a white-gloved young lady came carrying a black leather box, placed in a titled holder on the high table next to the podium. She, with great fanfare, raised the lid, turned, and left quietly. The auctioneer referred to an item number on the printed program reciting details about six large rubies, called the Ghandar Gems now open for bidding, starting at fifty thousand pounds. In less than a minute, the bid rose to one hundred fifty thousand pounds and continued in a vigorous process driven by the slight flutters of bidder’s yellow numbered paddles.

  “Fair warning now. Last chance.” Down came the gavel with a loud whack. “Thank you,” mumbled the auctioneer as though he thought that item of no more importance.

  Josef, sitting beside Tam, took a small pad and pen from his jacket and wrote, Why are you so nervous, Mr. Tam?

  Tam leaned over and whispered, “Do you see that other Asian over there to your left? I think he’s someone sent here by White Paper Fan to keep an eye on me. That’s what makes me nervous.”

  Josef wrote, I’ll take him if any trouble.

  After about an hour of animated bidding, punctuated with excited affirmations and quiet voices of congratulations, the auctioneer announced that the Wittlesbach Emerald would be the next item offered.

  “Do you spot Hans, David, or someone who might be Hans?”

  “Something’s wrong. He should definitely be here, but I don’t spot him anywhere.”

  “I see Josef sitting besides that man he’s watching from Hong Kong, but no one who might be Hans.”

  “The opening bid for the Whittelsbach Emerald is suggested at 50,000 Swiss francs,” announced the auctioneer who immediately followed quickly with, “I already have a bid for 100,000 francs, responding to a wave of a woman on one of the telephones.