Part 5 (1/2)

”Just Bonaventure, Miss Urban. May I get you a beverage? I am having vodka, of course!” He laughed a booming laugh. With that, almost magically, the maid opened the door and set a tray down containing beautiful etched crystal gla.s.ses, bottles of mineral water, slices of lemon, and a decanter filled with a clear liquid that I a.s.sumed was the vodka. Like the jewel in a crown, a plate of small toasts encircling a mountain of black caviar occupied the center of the tray. Sour cream and red caviar also sat on delicate porcelain plates. The silverware was ornate and highly polished.

”Mineral water would be delightful.” I said. The maid arranged a large gla.s.s of straight vodka and another of mineral water in front of Bonaventure. who sat at the head of the table. Then she poured me a gla.s.s of water, added a slice of lemon, and put it in front of me. She ignored the two bodyguards as if they did not exist. ”Anything else, master?” she said.

He looked at me questioningly. I said, ”This is fine.”

”Good. That will be all, Tanya.” And she silently exited the room.

The hair on the back of my neck fairly bristled. Every one of my animal senses was on hyperalert. The standing men smelled of blood, and I suspected they had killed recently. Their eyes glittered, their every movement was edgy, taut, and they both watched me as a stalking cat does a bird. Outwardly I made sure that I appeared delighted with my company. No sweat betrayed me, no smell of fear. Yet so great was my perception of danger that I had to fight the instinct to transform.

Gracefully, with the studied movements gained in the courts of kings, I turned toward Bonaventure and said, ”Mr. Schneibel sends his regards.”

”Ah, Herr Schneibel. I have heard he has not been well of late. How do you find him?” He took a long, smooth drink of vodka. The alcohol fumes were visible as they wafted upward from his gla.s.s.

Diplomatically I said, ”He is as his age demands. But well, thank you. Sound and youthful in mind if not in body. A great gentleman.”

”Let us drink to his health then.” Bonaventure laughed again and took another long drink. He was drunk in the way a heavy drinker is drunk, saturated with alcohol in order to function. ”And you. Miss Urban, have you worked for him long?” He reached out and piled a toast with caviar. He sucked it in noisily, piglike. Some dribbled out and down his chin. He dabbed at it with a pink damask napkin. He motioned at the plate to me.

”No, thank you,” I said. ”He uses my services when he needs them.”

Ignoring my refusal, Bonaventure took a plate and scooped caviar on it. With his stubby fingers he added a few rounds of toast. He pushed it across the table toward me. ”You must not refuse. It is the best. Extraordinary. A rare treat. I insist. And does your appointment with me mean he is willing at last to sell?”

I pulled the plate toward me. There was always a power play with men like this. I put a small amount of caviar on a toast and ate. The eggs popped in my mouth, tasting salty and complex. ”Excellent. You were right to insist,” I said carefully. ”And yes, I have brought a portfolio of the works he thinks you wish to acquire.”

”I would prefer to see his collection in person.”

”Of course. But as you know, Mr. Schneibel rarely makes the pieces accessible to anyone other than museum curators and researchers, and then on a very limited basis. None of his pieces has ever gone on the open market.”

”But he has sold some.”

”Granted. And that is all I am at liberty to discuss with regard to that. His buyers are private and anonymous, as you know.”

”Yes, Miss Urban. That is how I learned of Mr. Schneibel. I saw a large statue in the possession of an a.s.sociate. I was taken with it. It was far beyond anything I had, and my own collection is extensive. My a.s.sociate was reluctant to tell me where he had acquired it, but eventually he did. And eventually he sold it to me. I can be very persuasive, Miss Urban,” he said in a smarmy way. He looked at me, drinking in every one of my features rudely, openly. I looked back, my gaze as unblinking as his, straight into his yellowish, demonic eyes. A look of something-recognition?-pa.s.sed over his face. My heart squeezed in my chest. I wondered what he saw in my eyes. I knew what I saw in his-something beast-like and inhuman, touched by a dark energy that seemed to originate in the depths of h.e.l.l. I knew right then that Bonaventure had embraced evil as his preferred dish and had swallowed it whole.

The caviar I had eaten suddenly left a bitter taste in my mouth. I took a sip of mineral water; then I pushed the folder of photographs over to Bonaventure. Time to cut to the chase. ”Here are the items Mr. Schneibel would consider selling. You have until Monday to consider whether you are interested in any or all of them. Write your offer on the back of the photograph of any piece you wish to purchase. The amount, however, can be no lower than one million dollars-per item. Mr. Schneibel is not eager to sell, as you know. If you wish to be persuasive, please keep that in mind.”

”I would prefer if Herr Schneibel would simply name his price.”

”That is not his his preference, however,” I said. preference, however,” I said.

”I also want to see the collection before I bid. We are talking about a great deal of money, Miss Urban.” He shuffled through the photos, pausing occasionally. ”There are, what, fifteen photographs here?”

”Sixteen. And indeed, very few individuals can afford to purchase these items. You among few others know their true worth. Pieces like this simply do not exist elsewhere, not even in New Guinea, not for the past forty years. So this is Mr. Schneibel's offer. Take it or leave it. You can see the pieces after you purchase them.”

”But that is unheard-of.”

”Unheard-of, yes, yet it happens often,” I said evenly. ”That is how Mr. Schneibel does business. He guarantees that the pieces are authentic, genuine, and as seen in the photographs. You know his reputation in this field. Please don't insult him further.”

A small flush had started up Bonaventure's neck. He was not used to someone else calling the shots or being in control. Especially not a woman.

Before he could answer there was an urgent tap at the door. Tanya's head popped in. ”Master, excuse me, please, but there is a problem with-” And with that the door flung open and banged against the wall.

”I can speak for myself, Tanya.” A pretty woman in a satin nightgown stood there holding a white cat. The long hair that cascaded down her back was yellow like ripe corn. She was thin to the point of fragility, and she would have been prettier but her mascara made ugly black smudges under her eyes, and her bright red lipstick ran in a crazy zigzag across her lips. She was also most obviously drunk. The cat looked at me, hissed, arched its spine, and bounded out of the woman's arms.

She screamed, ”Princess!” The cat's claws left scratches on her arm. I couldn't help but notice the bright blood appearing on her milky skin. ”Tanya! Get her!” The maid scrambled off in pursuit. Then the blonde turned back to Bonaventure. She was on the verge of hysteria. Her whole body was s.h.i.+vering, and her eyes were wild.

”Ohhh, I knew it! Always a woman! You don't love me. You've never loved me,” she began sobbing.

I used this distraction to open my purse and extract my compact. I opened it and took a quick look in the mirror, and as I pretended to rearrange a few tendrils loosened from my chignon, I slipped another listening device into my hand.

Bonaventure had stood up quickly, reached the crying woman in a step, and put his arms around her as she collapsed against him. With more gentleness than I imagined him capable of, he said, ”Hush, Catharine, you don't feel well, do you, darling? My pet, this is a business meeting. Just business.” Despite his soft words, I could see he held her in a way she could not escape. He looked over at me. ”Miss Urban, please excuse us. Would Monday at seven thirty be convenient, yes? Good, I'll see you then. Bockerie, come with me. Issa, show Miss Urban out.” The black man gave me a final venomous look, left his post, and followed Bonaventure and the woman down the hall. There was a great arrogance and no fear in him. The other man, Issa, came and stood by my side like a prison guard as I closed the briefcase and stood up. I waited until Issa turned toward the door before picking up the briefcase and allowing my small purse to remain on the chair.

I had hopes of planting one more bug in the front hall near the phone. It was going to take both luck and superb acting to pull it off. Issa stayed close, invading my private s.p.a.ce as we walked through the apartment. With a coquettish smile, I said. ”Have you been with Bonaventure long?”

”Long enough,” he said.

”If he needs muscle, you certainly fill the job specs,” I fairly simpered. Gag me with a spoon, as the Valley Girls once said.

He flexed a bicep, then, showing crooked teeth, he grinned at me. ”I was a weightlifter. I was on the Olympic team for my country. Nineteen eighty-four.”

”And your country is... let me guess... Bulgaria?”

”You are very smart. As smart as beautiful. Yes, Bulgaria.” He was so pleased he strutted.

By that time we were in the vestibule near the front door. ”I have traveled there. It's a lovely country.”

At that moment the stolid Tanya rushed up with my coat. ”Here,” she said. Issa took it, and she scurried off without another word, perhaps still involved with the drama of Catharine. I stopped, and like a gentleman Issa helped me on with my coat. Now was the perfect time for me to look around and down, fabricating a look of confusion. ”Oh, my purse! I left it on the chair, I think. I'll have to go back for it.”

”No. I fetch. Just wait. Not long. I hurry.” Issa lumbered away like a bear.

Alone in the vestibule I pretended to have a problem with my boot. I picked up one foot, wobbled, and felt for the wall to steady myself. My hand slid and brushed the ornate mirror above the table holding the phone. The bug was deposited. Perfect. I was awfully good, even if I say so myself. Finally my hand rested on the table as I still balanced on my leg and examined the heel of my other boot. Apparently satisfied, I put my foot down gingerly as if testing the heel, just as Issa returned with my purse.

”Thank you so so much,” I gushed. He grinned, looking dumb and self-satisfied. My knight in s.h.i.+ning armor. He opened the door and leaned toward me, but I slipped through it before he could get too close. The tiny elevator was standing open and I quickly got in, making sure I gave Issa a cheery wave with one hand. Despite holding the briefcase, I managed to press the lobby b.u.t.ton with the other. I kept in character all the way down. I looked impatiently at my watch. Then I stared straight ahead, keeping a poker face. I'm sure cameras were everywhere, and I'm just as sure they detected nothing unusual about me. Nothing at all. much,” I gushed. He grinned, looking dumb and self-satisfied. My knight in s.h.i.+ning armor. He opened the door and leaned toward me, but I slipped through it before he could get too close. The tiny elevator was standing open and I quickly got in, making sure I gave Issa a cheery wave with one hand. Despite holding the briefcase, I managed to press the lobby b.u.t.ton with the other. I kept in character all the way down. I looked impatiently at my watch. Then I stared straight ahead, keeping a poker face. I'm sure cameras were everywhere, and I'm just as sure they detected nothing unusual about me. Nothing at all.

Chapter 6.

Down by the salley gardens my love and I did meet.

-William Butler Yeats

Unwilling to walk more than necessary in four-inch heels, I asked the doorman to hail a taxi. The cabbie gave a snort of impatience when I told him to take me to the Metropolitan Museum. The few blocks made the fare hardly worth his time. Too bad. I would have tipped better if he'd been more gracious.

I pulled out my cell phone and called Darius. He answered on the first ring. ”I'm on my way,” I said.

”I will be waiting,” he answered. ”Ciao.”