Parisian Affair (46 page)

Ram smiled. 'Just a little something to make
you more receptive,' he said, 'and to keep your young man from
interfering with our fun.'

'You—you
bastard
,' she said, her eyes
now fiery with anger despite the heaviness of their lids.

'Such language doesn't become you, Allegra,'
he said, still smiling.

'And I don't think that inviting us here,
then drugging us, becomes one of the world's top jewelers, either,'
she responded snappishly.

Ram laughed softly. 'You are a challenging
young woman,' he said. 'I like that.'

'A lot of good it will do you,' Allegra said,
'because I think you are detestable.'

His soft laugh came again and, with it, a
smile. 'We'll see what sort of firebrand you are later.' He paused,
looking at her, hoping to see fear in her eyes, but he was met with
angry determination.

'You said that you thought you knew where the
emeralds came from. You did say that, didn't you?'

'Yes,' Allegra said, nodding.

'Why don't you tell me about it,' Ram said.
'I would like to hear your theory.'

'It's my guess,' she said, 'that you, or more
likely Jules Levant, bought the emeralds from Wallis Simpson, the
Duchess of Windsor.'

Ram lifted his snifter of brandy into the air
as if toasting her. 'Very good, Allegra,' he said. 'Indeed, they
were purchased from the Duchess of Windsor many years ago. And by
Jules Levant. Over the years he bought several pieces of jewelry
from her. Some of it was jewelry that she had reported stolen to
collect the insurance money. She and her husband, the duke, often
overspent themselves, you see.' He paused a moment, then added, 'In
fact, several of the pieces that were auctioned after her death had
been reported stolen.'

Although she had been fairly certain that her
guess was an accurate one, Allegra still found its confirmation
startling.
To think that the legendary lovers the Duke and
Duchess of Windsor would have to sell jewelry to maintain their
lifestyle
, she mused
. Not only that, but to file false
insurance claims. He gave up a lot more than a crown when he
married the woman he loved.

'She could never be seen wearing these
jewels,' Ram continued. 'Certainly not in their old settings.'

'And I imagine she wouldn't even have taken a
chance on wearing them if they were reset,' Allegra said.

'Exactly,' Ram said. 'She might have created
a huge scandal if she'd been seen in any one of these
thirty-four-and-a-half-carat, dark green emeralds.'

'Because the Duke and Duchess of Windsor
stole them,' Allegra said.

Ram applauded her. 'You are exactly right
again,' he said. 'I see you've put two and two together.'

'And the British royal family would not be
too happy about confirmation that the man who gave up the throne
and his lover had taken off with the famous Windsor emeralds,'
Allegra said. 'And if the duchess wore any of them, that would be
confirmation for all the world to see.'

'Yes,' Ram said. 'There were rumors, of
course, but there was never any proof that they had stolen the
emeralds.'

'But you have it,' she said.

He nodded. 'Brava!' He took a sip of his
brandy. 'Jules Levant broke the set up, reset them, and sold
everything separately over a period of years so no one would know
anything.'

'But you bought them all back so you would
have your proof once again,' Allegra said.

'Right again,' Ram said. 'Except that there
is one little problem.'

'The ring.'

'Obviously,' he said. 'It is the key to
everything.'

'Because of its inclusion,' Allegra
guessed.

'Precisely,' Ram said with a nod. 'The ring,
which was the necklace pendant, offers irrefutable proof that these
are the Windsor emeralds. It is what those familiar with the royal
family's jewels called the demon stone.'

The demon stone
. Allegra felt a chill
run up her spine. It was the perfect name for the emerald's
inclusion, she realized, because it described what appeared to be
the head of a devil, complete with horns. The inclusion that should
have made the emerald less valuable instead made it more so.

'So you have to have the ring to complete the
set,' she said.

'Of course,' Ram said. 'I must have them all
for my plan to work.'

'What plan?' she asked.

'I'm going to offer them back to the
Windsors,' Ram said. 'Very discretely. Very quietly. For several
hundred million dollars.'

'Several hundred million dollars!' Allegra
said.

'It's nothing to them,' he said.

'What if they don't go for it?' she
asked.

He smiled. 'Oh, believe me, they will.
Because I'm going to tell them that if they don't, then the whole
world is going to know that their precious David Windsor and his
lovely wife, the Duchess of Windsor, stole them. I'll create a huge
scandal and I'm sure they wouldn't want another one of those.'

'So what you're talking about is extorting
money from them?' Allegra said.

'One might call it that, I suppose,' he said,
smiling again, 'but I prefer to call it giving the British royal
family the opportunity to repatriate some of their long-lost
jewels.'

'You don't need the money at all,' Allegra
said angrily. 'You're really just a creep with no compunctions at
all, aren't you?'

Ram shrugged. 'Well, I haven't done it yet,'
he said, 'and I won't until I have the demon stone.' He paused and
stared at her. 'The stone you've got.'

Allegra didn't respond to his remark.

'And if I don't get that emerald tonight,' he
said, 'then you and your boyfriend will die. Here in this
apartment. After I've given you a memorable night of sexual delight
such as you've never experienced before. Too bad you won't have
more than a few minutes to remember it before you die.'

Allegra's stomach lurched, and she could feel
a chill run up her spine again. She tried to keep her face blank,
but she wanted to scream and cry at the same time.
What am I
going to do?

Yamal entered the Ritz hotel dressed in a
pin-striped, navy blue bespoke suit, a heavily starched custom-made
white shirt, and a pearl gray tie from Charvet. His shoes were
handmade by John Lobb. He was the picture of an international
businessman with an enormous salary or the heir to a fortune. As
the concierge knew, however, he was an exorbitantly expensive male
hustler whose discreet services were sometimes required by the
hotel's esteemed guests.

When Yamal approached him, the concierge
nodded, and palmed the one-hundred-euro note that Yamal handed him.
Yamal flashed his brilliant smile, then went to the elevators,
boarded one that was waiting, and took it to the floor that the
Sheridan woman and her boyfriend were staying on. When he reached
their room, he checked to see that the hallway was empty in both
directions before he removed his tools from his jacket pocket.

Yamal was inside the suite within two minutes
and went straight to the closet in the bedroom where he knew the
safe would be. Opening the door, he pushed aside the few garments
hanging there and went down on one knee. From his other jacket
pocket, he took out a small ring of keys. Looking at the lock, then
at the keys, he got down on both knees and scooted closer to the
safe inside the closet. He tried the key that appeared to be a fit,
but after several tries he gave up with that one. Selecting
another, he inserted it in the lock, but found that it didn't work,
either.

So intent was he on his task that he didn't
hear the door to the suite open. Nor did he hear the footsteps that
quietly approached him from behind.

'Shit,' he swore in English when he
discovered that the third key wasn't a fit. He was selecting the
next one when he felt a shift in the air behind him. The hairs on
the back of his neck stood up, and he knew with certainty that
someone was in the room. Jerking his head around, Yamal saw a tall,
dark man holding a pistol, aimed down at him.

'
Laa!'
he whispered in Arabic.
'
No!'

He scrambled around to face the man, reaching
inside his jacket for the revolver in its shoulder holster. At the
same time he started to dive for the man's legs to throw him off
his feet, but before he could move or say another word, the man
pulled the trigger.

'
Laa!'
he cried plaintively. Yamal's
dark eyes looked stunned as he heard the soft ping of the gun's
report, and a small hole appeared in his forehead. His body jerked,
and the back of his head blew out all over the closet and its
contents. He fell forward onto the rug, soiling his bespoke suit as
he lost control of his bodily functions.

Kadar shoved the body out of the way with his
boot, then went to the bed and pulled the silk spread off it. He
tossed it onto the closet floor, so as not to soil his clothes on
the bits of bone, blood, and brain matter that had splattered over
everything. He took a single key from a trouser pocket, then went
down on his knees to reach the safe. He inserted the key, turned
the lock, and opened the safe in a single swift movement.

He looked in, prepared to scoop out the box
with the ring and anything else of value that had been put in the
safe.

'Fuck!' he swore in English. 'Fuck!'

The safe was empty.

Princess Karima poured herself another splash
of Jack Daniel's over the ice in her glass. 'Do you want another
drink, darling?' she asked Marcus.

'Why not?' he replied with a smile. 'I've
already got a good buzz on. Might as well get good and
sloshed.'

Mimi shuffled into the room. 'Madame,' she
said, looking at Karima. 'You have a telephone call.'

'Please take a message, Mimi,' Princess
Karima said. 'I don't want to be bothered now.'

Mimi cleared her throat. 'You will not want
to miss this call, madame,' she said, her voice weighed with
significance.

Princess Karima lifted an eyebrow and put her
cigarette out in an ashtray. 'Excuse me, Marcus,' she said with
annoyance. 'I'll be right back.'

Marcus watched her sweep out of the room
toward the hallway that led to her office. Mimi shuffled off in the
direction of the kitchen. He set his drink down and rose to his
feet, steadied himself, then followed in Karima's steps, the
copious amount of alcohol he'd consumed giving him reckless
courage. When he approached her office, he saw that the door was
ajar, and he sidled up to it.

'
As-salaam alaikum
,' he heard.

'
Hello' in Arabic. Whatever she's
doing
, he thought,
it's naughty. No doubt about it. She
wouldn't mix it up with any of them otherwise.

As he eavesdropped, he didn't comprehend the
conversation, but he easily determined that Princess Karima was
extremely upset. Her voice rose in volume, and her tone became very
agitated. Then suddenly, Marcus's efforts were rewarded. 'He was
murdered?' Princess Karima blurted out in English. Marcus tensed
and felt giddy at the same time. He had hoped for some good gossip,
but this? This was too much.

'
Maah as-salaama
,' he heard her say,
and he knew that she was saying good-bye. He quickly backed up,
then turned to dash back to the sitting room. Mimi, her tiny eyes
blazing with intensity, stood down the hallway watching him.

Marcus barked a laugh. 'Just checking on
Karima,' he said, 'to see if she wanted her drink, but she's
already hanging up.'

Mimi did not respond to him, but watched as
he walked back to the sitting room. Marcus sat down on the sofa
where he'd been before and took a large swallow of his drink, then
lit a cigarette.

Princess Karima slowly entered the room, her
beautiful face wearing a troubled expression. She didn't look at
Marcus at first, but went to the couch where she'd been lounging,
sat down, took a drink, then lit a cigarette. Her silence was
ominous.

'Everything all right, darling?' Marcus
asked, trying to sound cheerful. 'You look a bit worried.'

Princess Karima looked at him with a haughty
glare that she hoped concealed her fear. 'I don't appreciate your
listening in, Marcus,' she said angrily.

'But Karima,' he said apologetically, 'I
didn't mean to upset you, darling. Besides, I don't understand
Arabic.'

But you understand English very well
,
Princess Karima thought. She realized Marcus had become a
liability.

'There has been a little family emergency,'
Karima said, her face relaxing and her tone softening.

'Nothing serious, I hope,' Marcus said.

She shook her head. 'No,' Karima replied. She
laughed, but it sounded false even to her own ears. 'A little
palace coup averted.'

'Oh, my,' Marcus said, relieved that she
seemed to be recovering from his treacherous act. 'How
exciting.'

'Actually, it's more the norm,' Karima said.
'Family feuds, you know.'

Karima looked down into her drink, then took
a sip. One of her contacts in Paris had informed her of the
shooting at the Ritz. Yamal's death didn't bother her one way or
the other—he was handsome and amusing but nothing more than a
disposable hustler—but the loss of the ring saddened her. It was
her last link with Stefano.

'I hope everything's okay now,' Marcus said
solicitously.

Princess Karima heaved a sigh. 'Oh, I think
so,' she replied. 'Another drink, darling?' she asked, suddenly
more cheerful. 'I'm having one. Attempted coups have that effect on
one.'

'Why not?' he replied.

'I'll get them,' she offered, getting to her
feet. 'But I'd better get some more ice from the kitchen.'

'Can I do anything to help?' he asked,
anxious to please her.

'No,' Karima said. 'I'll do it.' She picked
up the silver ice bucket. 'I'll only be a second.' She glided out
of the room.