Parisian Affair (17 page)

He chuckled. 'Go on,' he said when she
paused.

'It's just that none of it's . . . none of
it's famous, Hilton. You know? It's all new. No provenance, like
the auction catalogues are always talking about. And I've met women
here in New York that have jewelry that belonged to Marie
Antoinette, for God's sake. Or Empress Josephine.'

'Somebody like Princess Karima,' he said.

She nodded. 'Yes, like her.'

'And the auction with some of her stuff is
coming up, isn't it?'

Kitty nodded again, her long black hair
swinging. 'This week,' she said. 'The viewing is at Dufour in Paris
tomorrow.'

'I see,' he said, enjoying the harmless game
he was playing with her.

She stared at him in silence, her eyes full
of hope.

'Well, maybe I can see what I can do,' he
said. 'I don't know. The estimates are sky-high, you know.'

'But the provenance,' Kitty said. 'You can't
do any better these days. This is the most important sale since the
Duchess of Windsor died. Princess Karima is one of the greatest
legends of our time.'

'You've got a point there,' he allowed.
'Look,' he added, pulling her to him, 'I'll see what I can do, but
remember: No promises.'

Kitty felt something closely akin to the
thrill of acquisition rush through her body.

'I understand,' she said. 'No promises.' She
brushed her lips against his. 'But. . . but if it's possible,
Hilton ... I ... I really need emeralds.'

'We'll see,' he said, his lips pressing
against her neck.

Kitty threw her head back and thrust her
chest out, offering herself to him, and he responded at once,
covering her bare breasts with his lips and tongue. He soon entered
her, and they made passionate, almost violent love.

When they had sated themselves, they lay
entwined in one another's arms. 'You're sure you want to go to
Swifty's tonight?' he asked.

'Whatever you want to do,' Kitty said
compliantly.

He looked at her and grinned. 'Well, since
you don't have any new jewelry to wear, maybe we should stay in and
wait till you have something to knock their eyes out. What do you
think?'

Kitty almost hyperventilated with excitement.
'I think you're a genius,' she said, her hand sliding down to his
groin. 'A genius.' She began stroking him, slowly, teasingly.

Hilton quickly became aroused and slid around
on the bed and up onto his knees. 'Here,' he whispered.
'Genius.'

Kitty looked up and knew what he wanted at
once. She opened her mouth and licked her lips lasciviously.
That emerald's mine
, she told herself as she took him into
her mouth.
All mine
.

Allegra dressed conservatively in a simple
black pantsuit with a black cashmere turtleneck sweater and
high-heeled black boots, and wore no jewelry except her watch. She
didn't want to draw attention to herself at the auction house
preview, and even small pieces of her jewelry might catch a
connoisseur's eye at such a gathering.

Anxious to get out onto the streets of Paris,
she looped a thick woolly scarf around her neck, put on her heavy
winter coat, took up her shoulder bag, and set off to have
something to eat before visiting Monsieur Lenoir at the Citibank
branch near the place Vendome. At a small cafe down the rue des
Archives, she took a seat at a table next to the window, where she
could watch the perpetual show that paraded back and forth along
the sidewalks. Ordering a croissant and a cup of caffeine-rich
French coffee, she slathered the perfect, flaky croissant with
butter and thick-cut orange marmalade and put two lumps of sugar,
along with heavy cream, into the coffee. Surveying the crowd in the
cafe, she noted that her fellow patrons ranged in age from about
eighteen to eighty, most of them stylishly dressed, and many of
them reading the daily papers.

She paid her bill and was out of the cafe in
no time, and began the short walk to the Metro stop located at the
Hotel de Ville. It was much cleaner and seemed safer than its
counterpart in New York City.

After emerging from the Metro at the
Tuileries, she walked briskly in the direction of the bank. She
entered the palatial building and approached a uniformed security
guard. 'Monsieur Lenoir?' she asked.

The guard indicated a roped-off area to her
right, where several people worked behind big desks. She strode to
the area, where a young woman looked up at her quizzically.
'Mademoiselle?'

'Monsieur Lenoir?' Allegra repeated.

'Do you have an appointment?' the young woman
asked in English.

'No,' Allegra replied, wondering how the
woman knew she was American. 'But he is expecting me. I'm here on
business for Mr. Hilton Whitehead.'

'One moment,' the young woman said, rising
from her chair.

A tall, handsome young man with dark,
slicked-back hair strode toward Allegra, his hand outstretched. He
was tanned and looked more like an athlete than a banker.

'Miss Sheridan?' he asked, his eyes traveling
the length of her body, appraising her in one quick moment.

Allegra shook his hand. '
Oui
,' she
said.

He smiled graciously, exhibiting perfect
white teeth. 'We all speak English,' he said. 'I'm Richard Lenoir.
It's a pleasure to meet you. If you'll come with me?'

She walked along beside him to a plush
cherry-paneled inner office, where he closed the door and indicated
a chair for her. 'Please have a seat.'

Allegra sat down on the comfortable leather
chair at the side of his desk and removed the manila envelope in
her shoulder bag.

'This will only take a moment,' Monsieur
Lenoir said. 'I spoke to Mr. Whitehead and his assistant, Ms.
Javelle, yesterday, and I just need your copy of the letter of
credit, then your signature on a form.'

'I have the letter of credit here,' she said,
handing him the envelope.

'Very good,' he said, taking it from her.
'Thank you.'

She watched as he sat down and took out the
letter of credit. He glanced at it briefly, then searched through a
small pile of papers on his desk.

'Ms. Javelle faxed me a copy,' he said, 'but
we have to have the genuine article.' He chuckled, and Allegra
smiled.

'Ah, here we are,' he said. He held a piece
of paper in his hand. 'Please sign this on the line by the X.' He
handed her an expensive- looking fountain pen.

Allegra signed her name and returned the pen
to him.

'Thank you,' he said. 'Ms. Javelle said that
Mr. Whitehead would be calling me tomorrow. She said that you would
be writing a very large check against this account.'

'Yes,' Allegra said. 'And I'm sure she told
you that it has to be honored immediately.'

He nodded. 'That's not a problem for Mr.
Whitehead,' he said. 'He's a valued customer of ours, and we've
performed this service for him a number of times. We've also
arranged for a safe-deposit box in case you should need it.'

'Good,' she said. 'I'll probably be paying a
bill for him tomorrow, then bringing something by here to keep
until Friday. I'm scheduled to leave that morning.'

'Oh, so soon?'

'Afraid so,' she said.

'You'll hardly get to enjoy Paris at all,' he
said. 'In any case, don't worry—you won't have any problem from
this end, I can assure you. Oh, and here's your safe-deposit box
key.'

'Thanks,' Allegra said, taking the proffered
key and putting it in her handbag.

'That's it, then,' he said, rising to his
feet from behind the desk. 'It was a pleasure to meet you, and if I
can be of any further assistance to you while you're in Paris, I'll
only be too happy to oblige.'

He smiled again, and Allegra had the distinct
feeling that his offer was more than professional. 'I think I have
everything I need,' she replied, 'and I'd better get going
now.'

'It was a pleasure to meet you,' he said,
leading her toward the office door. 'Maybe I'll see you again.'

'Maybe,' Allegra said, noticing the glint in
his eyes.

As she left, she couldn't help but smile.
Some women might be offended by a come-on as obvious as the
handsome Monsieur Lenoir's, but she felt complimented by it.

She spied a taxi cruising by and hailed it.
After she was seated in the rear, she gave the driver the address
for Dufour, nearby on the rue de Richelieu in the area known as les
Grands Boulevards. It was time for viewing the auction items, and
suddenly she felt excited by the prospect.

The taxi soon pulled over in front of the
Hotel des Ventes Dufour. It was a venerable, gray stone
neoclassical building that gave the impression of solidity and
quiet old-world wealth. Inside its twenty hallowed auction rooms,
however, she knew that the atmosphere could become noisy, raucous
even, when the bidding escalated into a frenzy for the treasures
that were put on the auction block every day at two p.m.
promptly.

She paid the taxi fare and entered the
building's grand facade, her heart beating quicker than usual in
anticipation. She stopped at the information desk, where an
attractive young blond woman wearing an Hermes scarf knotted just
so around her neck looked up at her from behind
tortoiseshell-rimmed glasses.

'
Vente des bijoux?
' Allegra asked in
French.

'The top floor,' the young woman responded in
perfect English. 'The elevators are just ahead.'

'
Merci
,' Allegra responded. Why had
she always heard Americans complain that the French insisted upon
using their own language? Perhaps, she thought, when they heard her
efforts, they immediately used English so as not to have to hear
her butcher French. She knew her command of the spoken language was
at best crude, but she was determined to use it as much as
possible.

When she stepped out of the elevator a few
moments later, she found herself in a hallway with several doors
leading into a very large exhibition/auction room. Walking through
the nearest one, she was confronted by a crowd of well-dressed,
immaculately groomed men, primarily of middle age and older, and
their counterparts, perfectly coiffed and designer- dressed women,
primarily of a comparable age, although there were a few younger
beauties.

Conversation was whispered throughout the
room, and all eyes were glued to the various displays of jewelry in
glass cabinets. The most important pieces were exhibited singly in
glass or Lucite boxes on pedestals. Allegra knew that the ring she
was looking for would be in one of these single display cases, but
rather than focusing on it at once, she made a perambulation of the
room, studying the displays in the less important cabinets
first.

As she so often felt at auctions in New York,
she was stunned by the staggering amount of the world's beautiful
and costly objects that were available at any given time for those
who could afford such luxuries. After a half hour or so of
scrutinizing the assembled jewelry, her eyes had already taken in
almost as much as she could absorb. Dazzled by the king's ransom on
display, Allegra decided it was time that she had a look at the
ring she would be bidding for, then register to bid.

She went to a display case where she saw an
auction catalogue, and flipped through it until she saw the ring.
It was lot number twenty-four. She put down the catalogue and
looked around the large room. She casually moved from the display
cases that contained the less expensive lots, and meandered around
the room, focusing on the single displays.

Arriving at lot number twenty-four, she
stopped behind a man and a woman who were looking into the case.
Princess Karima's thirty-four- and-a-half-carat emerald shimmered
against the black velvet on which it was set. Clearly, the
princess's ring was not just any emerald. Its dark green color,
clarity, and cut were the very best. Allegra thought it was
probably from Colombia, though that wasn't necessarily the case.
Emeralds came from mines in several countries, including India,
Brazil, and Egypt. On the surface, it appeared to be perfect, but
that was seldom ever true with emeralds. Flawless ones were
extremely rare, and oil was commonly used in the business to fill
cracks, enhance color, and hide other flaws.

Anxious to see the stone up close, she looked
about for a guard with a key. Spotting one nearby, she approached
him. 'Monsieur,' she said, pointing toward the display case.
'
L'emeraude, s'il vous plait?
'

The guard looked at her, then removed the key
chain on his belt and went to the case. Allegra opened her shoulder
bag and took out the suede case that held her loupe. Fortunately,
the couple who had spent a long time looking at the ring had moved
on, so she would be able to examine it without interference from
anyone else.

The guard opened the case, took out the ring,
and handed it to Allegra. She positioned the loupe in her right
eye, and brought the ring toward the loupe slowly. She studied it
intently for several moments, turning it this way and that with her
fingers, before exhaling a deep breath. She hadn't realized that
she'd been holding it until now. Removing the loupe, she continued
to examine the ring as it shimmered magnificently in her hand.

She was puzzled by it, and a little uneasy
for some reason, though she wasn't certain why. Something about
this stone rang a little bell somewhere in the back of her
brain.

One thing was certain. The emerald was not
flawless. Its color and cut were perfect, but the stone itself had
a flaw that no one had tried to conceal, which she thought odd. The
vast majority of dealers the world over would have used oil to fill
the flaw.

She replaced the loupe in her eye once more,
and brought up the emerald. Focusing on the flaw, she felt a chill
run up her spine, and the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.
She'd never seen anything like it in her life.