11 Harrowhouse (12 page)

He wondered if perhaps he'd suffered some sort of sudden paralysis. A terrifying thought. But his head seemed too clear for that; no dizziness, not even a headache. He had a peripheral view of Maren, and she also seemed to be frozen in position. What the
hell
was happening? He could see, he could smell and hear. All his senses were normally sharp. But he couldn't move.

The two men in fluorescent coveralls were coming to the car. They'll help, Chesser thought. They'll notice something is wrong and help somehow. Maybe there is a hospital nearby, or at least a doctor.

One of the men opened the car door on Chesser's side. He switched off the ignition. Chesser tried to communicate with his eyes. The man looked right at him but didn't seem to get the message. Then a third man appeared from somewhere behind. The third man had a rifle. It looked to be a twenty-two-caliber with some kind of device attached to its breech. What the hell was a road worker doing with a rifle?

The man with the rifle reached to Chesser's shoulder and withdrew something. Chesser saw it was a tiny dart with feathers and a point no longer than a push pin. That explained the sting he'd felt. Another man took a similar dart from Maren. What was it?

Chesser thought of something he'd seen recently on television: a a documentary film on the black rhinoceros, how scientists in Africa were able to tag the ears of those ferocious animals. They used rifles to shoot darts carrying some sort of drug that temporarily immobilized the rhinos. Chesser recalled a portion of the film that showed a drugged rhino's eyes close up. Vicious anger exploding against the inability to express it. But what the hell, this was England and he wasn't a rhino.

One of the men searched Chesser's jacket pocket. He found the drawstring sack and removed the diamond from it.

No! Chesser silently protested. A burst of violence, full-force rage with no outlet.

The diamond went back into the sack and the sack went into the pocket of the man's coveralls. Then a truck with proper official markings wheeled into the open lane and stopped. Methodically, the men gathered up the blinking lights and tripods and put them aboard the truck. All the way down the road, until the way was completely clear and they disappeared around the bend.

Chesser and Maren could do nothing but sit there. Two cars passed. One came on them so fast it had to swerve to miss the Ferrari. The driver swore but didn't stop.

It had been perfectly planned, precisely timed. Obviously by someone who knew he had the diamond. Who? Chesser considered the possibilities chronologically, starting with Massey. He eliminated Massey on the basis of lack of motive. It was Massey's diamond. In another hour Massey would have had it. The System? He was tempted to put the blame there but logic told him that was ridiculous. The System had no reason to steal diamonds. They had diamonds. Next was Watts. Chesser felt sure Watts was incapable of such a thing. And the same applied to Wildenstein. However, along with Wildenstein came a possibility. Perhaps someone in Wildenstein's shop, one of the assistants, was an informant. Had, for a percentage, told professionals about the diamond. Those men in the fluorescent coveralls knew what they were doing. Very professional. They'd probably tapped his phone conversations, knew exactly where he was going and when.

As remote and complicated as it seemed, that was the most likely explanation. Someone in Wildenstein's shop.

So what?

The realization that he really had nothing substantial to go on, that he'd never recover the diamond, hit Chesser hard.

Then came the big question: What to tell Massey? Massey was expecting the diamond that afternoon. Chesser had already told Massey he'd seen it and it was fine. There was no reason not to deliver. And if he didn't deliver he was ruined, thought Chesser. Massey would see to that. It would get to The System and there'd be no more packets. The name Chesser would be off the list forever. Everything was at stake.

Chesser thought maybe he could stall Massey. Go to The System for another diamond. Go through the whole thing again. Another diamond? This one had cost eight hundred thousand, including the cut. What he'd have to put out for another would just about break him, but it might be worth it. Maybe he could do it. He'd need cooperation from The System, Wildenstein again, and more patience from Massey than Massey probably had.

Chesser was desperately grasping for any solution.

He realized that and started feeling sorry for himself.

“I can move my toes,” said Maren. Evidently now she could also speak.

Seconds later she had totally recovered.

“You look like a statue,” she laughed.

Chesser needed sympathy, not ridicule. He felt like clobbering her but still couldn't move. Maren got out of the car and stretched, unperturbed, as though she'd just had a nice nap.

The effect of the drug was also leaving Chesser.

“They weren't very competent highwaymen,” said Maren.

“They weren't highwaymen,” said Chesser, glad to hear his thoughts spoken again.

“They didn't steal my purse, my virtue, or anything.”

“Shut up!” snapped Chesser. He hadn't been that sharp with her since their one and only argument.

Maren came around to him. She smoothed the hair at his temples. “Poor love,” she consoled.

“They got the diamond,” he said, to hear it.

Chesser decided they might as well go on to Massey's. The best thing to tell him was the horrible, no doubt incredible truth.

Maren was driving now. She took a bumpy corner too fast. All four wheels left the road for a moment, then came down, shuddered and grabbed and went around. Maren glanced at Chesser for reaction.

Part of him didn't care if they went off a cliff.

CHAPTER 9

M
ASSEY PRESIDED.
Behind a specious Directoire desk, beneath a Settecento chandelier, in front of a wide trompe l'oeil panel. On the ample surface of the desk were only three small objects: a gold and malachite Fabergé egg, an old Georgian watch, and a monogrammed Tiffany fountain pen, gold, circa 1930.

Lady Bolding was seated in a plush chair placed at an angle near a large window, allowing her attention to seem divided between indoors and out. She was holding by its stem a huge shocking pink peony, occasionally pressing the multipetaled bowl of the blossom to her nose but also including her mouth.

Maren was nonchalantly exploring the room, which was designated as Massey's second-floor study.

While Chesser related details of the highway robbery, Massey's eyes were steady on him. Not once did Massey look away, nor did he comment or indicate his reaction. So Chesser had nothing for measure along the way. He told it all exactly as it had happened, and when he'd gone over it once Massey still said nothing.

Nervously, Chesser began repeating himself and finally Massey broke the spell.

“I assume you carry insurance to cover theft,” he said.

“No, I don't.”

“Isn't that unusual?” asked Massey, implying stupidity.

Chesser had to admit that. His only excuse was he'd never handled anything big enough to warrant paying the big premiums. He hadn't even considered insuring this diamond. The deal had come together so swiftly and had looked so easy.

“What about The System?” asked Massey.

“The System?”

“Don't they help in such cases?”

Chesser was mildly surprised Massey knew about The System. Most people didn't. He supposed, though, that big business knew big business. Chesser was resigned to The System eventually learning how badly he'd mishandled this deal. However, he reasoned there was no need to invite their attention. He told Massey, “It's not their responsibility.”

Massey seemed to accept that. “So what do you intend to do?” he asked.

“I'll keep my part of the deal.”

Massey's eyebrows went up.

“But I'll need more time,” Chesser added.

“We had a verbal contract,” said Massey. “As valid as a written one.”

“I know.”

“You were advanced a million and a half in good faith. Now you can't deliver.”

“I'll deliver.”

“When?”

“In three to four weeks.”

Massey compressed his lips. His fingers had the fountain pen, unscrewing and tightening its cap. He shook his head slowly. “You were to deliver,” he said.

“I will.”

“The point is you haven't. I'm unbending about commitments, Mr. Chesser. When we agreed on delivery in a month you could have disagreed. If you required more time you should have said so then. I'm not an unreasonable man.” He sighed an old sigh. “Now my better judgment tells me to get out of the deal. You can return the amount I advanced, and that will be that.”

That will be impossible, thought Chesser.

“Fair enough?” asked Massey.

“No.”

“You think I'm being arbitrary?”

“Yes,” replied Chesser, right at him.

Massey smiled. It was the last thing Chesser expected.

“We could notify the police,” suggested Lady Bolding.

Massey quickly vetoed that with a glance. He asked Chesser, “What would you have me do?”

“Give me more time to come up with another diamond.”

“I envy your ability to squander time.” Massey picked up the old Georgian watch. He wound it and checked it against the one by Cartier on his wrist. Perhaps there was nothing more to be said. Finally he broke the silent tension. “Your theory is these men on the road were professionals and that someone in Antwerp provided them with information?”

“That's right.”

“Perhaps. Who in Antwerp?”

Chesser shrugged. “Someone at the cutters.”

“Do you know how difficult it would be to prove that connection? It's a flimsy conjecture at best. And even if it were true, even if we established evidence, would that get us the diamond back?”

“Maybe.”

“Really?”

“I doubt it,” Chesser had to admit.

“How would the thieves dispose of such a diamond? Quickly, of course, but how?”

“Sell it privately. Have it recut so it couldn't be identified.”

“Why should they worry about identification? You're the only one who's seen it.”

“And Wildenstein, the cutter.”

“Hardly a multitude. Did you have the finished stone photographed?”

“No.”

“You certainly know how to protect yourself, Mr. Chesser.”

Chesser just took it. He had it coming.

“Describe the stone to me.”

“It was an oval. Around a hundred and seven carats.”

“On the phone you said it was fine. I believe that was the word you used. By that I assume you meant it was first quality.”

“I've seen better,” lied Chesser.

“Then it wasn't perfect?”

“Not quite.”

That set Massey back a bit.

Chesser reasoned that an accurate description of the diamond would only further irritate Massey. Better to deprecate the diamond some. Accordingly, he invented two flaws in the stone. “Carbon spots,” he said.

“Doesn't sound worth owning or stealing,” Massey said.

“Most large stones have minor imperfections,” explained Chesser.

Massey jumped on that. “Another breach of our contract. My stipulation was a perfect diamond.”

“Nature isn't always so obliging.”

“But ignorance is,” snapped Massey.

Chesser thought it best to say no more.

Massey turned away, completely away. Chesser looked over to Maren, but she was absorbed in a book she'd taken down from the bookcase. She was on the floor, sitting cross-legged. As usual, she found anything more interesting than diamonds. Chesser wished now he'd listened to her. To hell with being ambitious. He noticed Lady Bolding was now plucking the petals one by one from the peony and dropping them into her lap. From Chesser's point of view, Lady Bolding had a shocking pink crotch. He squinted to diffuse and heighten the illusion. He preferred to look at that rather than the back of Massey's old neck.

Still turned away, Massey asked, “What if our positions were reversed?”

Chesser answered truthfully, “I'd demand the money or the diamond.”

Massey liked that.

He did an abrupt about face, revealing a much more agreeable expression. “Actually, Mr. Chesser, to be fair, I suppose you're a victim of circumstances. The more I think about it the more I feel you deserve perhaps a better shake. At least some effort should be made to recover the diamond.” He hesitated thoughtfully. He touched the Fabergé egg gently with his forefinger. It spun a few times and then wobbled to rest. “There's an investigating firm in London, a good one, that does work for me occasionally. I'll put them on it and see what they come up with. Anyway, no harm in trying.”

Chesser was thankful for any hope.

“Meanwhile,” continued Massey, “I suggest you and your Maren stay on here. Relax a bit until we can get the matter settled one way or the other.”

No choice for Chesser.

“I'd enjoy a swim,” said Maren. Evidently, she'd been paying closer attention than Chesser had thought.

“I'll see that your luggage is brought up to your rooms,” said Lady Bolding.

Chesser noticed she'd said rooms, plural.

“Splendid!” said Massey to everyone. Then, right at Maren, he said, “You swim and I'll watch.”

Several giant willows hung around the pool area, drooping as though from ennui. The pool was set apart from the main house and was enclosed on three sides by luxuriously appointed and fully equipped cabanas. The rectangle of water was shaped by small Portuguese tiles resembling lapis lazuli, creating the more inviting illusion of pure and brilliant liquid blue.

Alone in one of the cabana rooms, Chesser found a selection of new swimming trunks. He chose a pair youthfully low cut. He couldn't stop blaming himself. He had the urge to smash the mirror because it reproduced him. He heard laughter from the adjoining cabana. Maren and Lady Bolding.