‘Just like the Montmartre case Landru told us about.’
‘Quite. But, of course, Dupree only knew about these two cases, didn’t he?’ said Darrieux.
‘Sure. All the other murders happened years earlier, and in different countries. There was no reason to make a connection, certainly not at that stage.’
‘The golden mask hadn’t been found either,’ observed Darrieux. ‘Not because it had been stolen from the shop at the time the art dealer was murdered, but because it had been sold before the auction to an anonymous buyer on the Net. The man in the shadows missed it again. The hunt for the mask continued.’
‘That’s where the matter rested until that famous robbery in Monte Carlo a year later. Do you remember what happened?’ asked Jack.
‘Sure. We heard all about it last year in connection with our Russian investigations. Dupree told us and you wrote about it in your book. Apparently, that’s how Landru first found out about it. Quite recently, it would appear. A gambler – a high roller – had a long losing streak in a glitzy casino. He put up a valuable painting as security: a Russian painting by Nesterov—’
‘The Missing Little Shepherd,’ interjected Jack.
‘The gambler was a Russian count, remember? But what we didn’t know was that later that night, the desperate count put up another valuable item, a precious golden Inca burial mask, as additional security, to be allowed to continue gambling. It was the poker game of the year. The golden mask made one more, final public appearance – and headlines – before it disappeared for good.’
‘Ah. But did it? Enter Le Fantôme and the Black Widow,’ said Jack. ‘The scheming Malenkova.’
‘None other. The hapless count continued to gamble, and lost. The winner took his prize back to his room and put the golden mask into the safe.’
‘That’s when things become really interesting,’ continued Jack. ‘Don’t you think? According to Dupree, Le Fantôme, the mysterious cat burglar, broke into the winner’s room, opened the safe and stole the golden mask and the Nesterov painting, and disappeared.’
‘And we do know that the Nesterov painting ended up with Malenkova and was sold by her to a Russian billionaire,’ said Dupree.
‘Correct; Sokolov. And that information was, of course, also in my book, and therefore available to Landru.’
‘It was. And it would have been reasonable for him to put two and two together and conclude that the golden mask ended up with Malenkova as well, just like the painting we know of,’ suggested Darrieux. ‘Don’t you think? After all, she was a famous albeit shady art dealer and fence, well known in the Paris underworld, and that brings us right up to date, doesn’t it? Following the fascinating but tragic trail of the golden mask ends right here with her.’
‘Looks that way. And as we both know, Malenkova’s dead.’ Jack closed his notebook and looked at Darrieux. ‘Is there anything else you can remember about these extraordinary events? Especially about the golden mask?’
‘As a matter of fact there is. Just before I went to sleep last night, I did remember something curious about the mask that the fence in Montmartre told me just before we concluded the sale.’
‘Oh? What was that?’
‘He explained that the mask was unique in a number of ways. Apparently, encased within the heavy gold and forming the part of the mask that would have made contact with the wearer’s face – in this case most likely the deceased – was something very special and sacred to the Inca. ‘
‘What?’
‘The back of the mask wasn’t just gold. It was a piece of meteorite they held sacred.’
Jack looked up, surprised. ‘Are you serious?’
‘Yes. That’s what the guy said.’
‘How did he come to that conclusion?’
‘He had the material analysed and it was, I think he said, iridium something. Very rare.’
‘What!’ Jack almost shouted. ‘And whatever was scratched into the back of the mask was engraved in that material, not the gold?’
‘Yes. It was quite different from the gold, like some kind of strange metal or stone.’
‘Good God!’ said Jack and ran his fingers through his hair. ‘This is amazing.’
‘In what way?’
‘If Landru and Dupree are right and the robbery in Monte Carlo was carried out by Le Fantôme, working for the Black Widow as the evidence strongly suggests …’
‘Malenkova?’
‘Yes, and she kept the golden mask and didn’t sell it on because it was so special, and it ended up in her private collection in that crypt of hers under her home—’
‘Destroyed by fire,’ interjected Darrieux. ‘Nothing left, remember?’
‘Not necessarily.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Not now. I want to have all the facts at my fingertips before we go down this path,’ said Jack, smiling.
‘So, you’ll just leave me hanging there, is that it? Boiling over with anticipation?’
‘Yes, for now.’
‘You can be so aggravating, you know, Jack!’
‘I’ve been called worse. You know what they say: you have to be cruel to be kind. So why don’t you get out of this striking kimono and change into something a little more comfortable, and we’ll go and talk to Dupree and Landru, eh? By then, I should be in command of all the facts.’
Gritting her teeth and clenching her fists, Darrieux turned around in a huff and, shuffling almost as gracefully as a geisha, walked back to the chateau.
45
Madame Petrova’s memory trees: 3 November
After the turbulent meeting the day before with Landru, Dupree, and Lapointe – who had joined them later that evening – Jack wanted some time out to reflect on what had been discussed and decided. A chance remark by Darrieux linking iridium to the golden burial mask had changed everything and opened the door to an opportunity no-one had expected.
At first, Jack’s proposition was received with scepticism and dismissed as fanciful speculation by all except Tristan. But Jack persisted and put forward persuasive arguments that finally carried the day.
At Dupree’s request, Lapointe arranged for two police officers to be stationed at the Gatehouse around the clock as a precaution. The delivery of Landru’s death mask had clearly unsettled Dupree, and he was taking the implied threat seriously.
As everything was now moving very fast and had a momentum of its own – especially with Lapointe, Cesaria and Samartini in a great hurry to implement their daring Omerta plan before it was too late – Jack needed some time to think.
With the countess – Jack’s usual confidante and sounding board – still away in Venice, Jack turned to his mother, Rahima, who was living in a luxurious retirement home nearby, for advice.
After the dramatic events in Bogota earlier that year that had almost cost her life, Rahima had settled into her new surroundings surprisingly well, and felt totally comfortable and at home in the apartment previously occupied by Madame Petrova, her aunt, who had passed away some time ago.
Somehow Jack always remembered his first meeting with Madame Petrova every time he drove through the wrought-iron gates leading into the grounds surrounding the retirement home – an imposing eighteenth-century chateau that had once belonged to one of Madame Petrova’s close friends – the memories making him smile. A retired prima ballerina in her nineties, always dressed as if for a cocktail party, and refusing to wear glasses or use a walking stick because she thought that would make her look old.
Enjoying the warmth of the morning sun on his back, Jack walked along the familiar gravel path behind the chateau leading to Madame Petrova’s famous memory trees. As he turned a corner, he could see his mother sitting on a bench facing a grove of oak trees, each one planted in memory of a dear departed friend or relative.
‘The matron told me I would find you here,’ said Jack. He bent down and kissed his mother on the cheek.
‘What a pleasant surprise,’ said Rahima, looking ad
oringly at Jack. She still couldn’t quite believe that she had been reunited with the son she had left behind in outback Australia as a baby five decades ago, and thought she would never see again. ‘What brings you here this early?’
‘What a magnificent spot,’ replied Jack, sidestepping the question. ‘Madame Petrova’s memory trees.’
‘Oh yes. I come here often, especially in the morning. It’s a magic time, just like now. This place is an extraordinary link to the past, brimming with memories … and regrets,’ she added sadly. ‘Come, sit with me.’
Jack sat down next to his mother and reached for her hand. ‘You look troubled,’ she said.
‘Ah. Nowhere to hide.’
‘I’m your mother, remember? We may not have seen each other for a long time, but that doesn’t change anything.’
‘Obviously.’
‘Well?’
‘It’s difficult to explain.’
‘Try.’
‘It’s about these Death Mask Murders.’
‘Monsieur Landru and his mysterious cipher you told me about?’
‘Yes.’
‘What about it?’
‘It’s Tristan.’
‘In what way?’
‘He says he can sense something he has never come across before.’
‘What?’
‘Something malevolent reaching out of the distant past, threatening to engulf us all.’
Rahima looked at Jack and raised an eyebrow. ‘Isn’t that a little melodramatic? Can you be more specific?’
‘Seven shocking murders. And they are all connected to an ancient lost Inca treasure. And now this ...’
‘What?’
‘The last missing link in an extraordinary quest that has already claimed so many lives.’ Jack paused and watched a flock of birds land on one of the oak trees. ‘And a remarkable coincidence,’ he added quietly.
‘What link? What coincidence?’
‘It’s all about a meteorite that hit the earth sixty-six million years ago, and an ancient Peruvian burial mask.’
‘My son the storyteller,’ said Rahima, rolling her eyes and squeezing Jack’s hand.
‘No, this is serious.’
‘I’m sure it is. Tell me what’s troubling you.’
During the next half hour, Jack told his mother how each of the murders was connected to a specific part of the treasure puzzle and how the golden mask found by Baudin on Heart Island could hold the final clue leading to the discovery of the lost treasure.
‘But you just told me that Malenkova’s house and her art collection were destroyed by fire,’ said Rahima.
‘True, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that everything was destroyed without a trace, despite the fact the place was thoroughly searched by Forensics after the fire.’
‘What are you getting at?’
‘That’s where that meteorite I mentioned steps into the picture.’
‘How so?’
‘It’s all about the Alvarez hypothesis.’
‘Never heard of it.’
‘Few have. About sixty-six million years ago, a massive asteroid larger than Mount Everest hit the earth on the Yucatán Peninsula at Chicxulub in Mexico. According to the Alvarez hypothesis, which has now been endorsed by scientists around the world, this catastrophic event caused the mass extinction of the dinosaurs and many other living creatures, and left a large crater, the Chicxulub Crater, which we can still see today.’
‘Fascinating. But how is this relevant?’
‘When Adrienne sold the burial mask on the black market in Paris, the fence she sold it to had it examined and tested. That’s when something curious was discovered.’
‘What?’
‘Not all of the mask was solid gold. Part of it consisted of something quite different.’
‘What?’
‘Iridium, the second densest metal and the most corrosion-resistant metal on earth, even at two thousand degrees Celsius.’
‘I still can’t see—’
Jack held up his hand. ‘Iridium is found in meteorites and would have been quite prolific near the impact crater on the Yucatán Peninsula, and beyond.’
‘Ah.’
‘From the description Adrienne gave, the style of the mask strongly suggests a pre-Colombian origin that pre-dates the Inca. The mask was most likely a precious ceremonial object held sacred by the Chimu, who lived along the northern coast of modern-day Peru and were conquered by the Inca around 1470.’
‘I can see you’ve done your research.’
‘I had to. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been able to persuade Lapointe to go along with it.’
‘With what?’
‘Authorising a forensic search of the ruins of Malenkova’s house.’
‘Why?’
‘Unlike gold, which has a melting temperature of 1,064 degrees Celsius, iridium doesn’t melt until a temperature of 2,466 degrees C is reached. Now, a typical house fire would reach temperatures of around eight to nine hundred degrees Celsius. It can be several hundred degrees hotter at floor level, but would unlikely reach a temperature of 2,466 degrees. What it means is this: if Malenkova did in fact have the golden burial mask in her collection, it is very likely the iridium part is still intact.’
‘With Baudin’s markings?’
‘Still visible; yes. That’s why Lapointe has authorised a search of the premises. Apparently, the property hasn’t been touched since the fire. An insurance claim by the estate is still pending and, of course, it was a crime scene for quite some time after the fire.’
Rahima turned to face Jack. ‘Ingenious,’ she said. ‘If this comes off, it could be quite a breakthrough.’
‘It could.’
‘Then, why the troubled look?’
‘Tristan thinks we should walk away – now!’
‘Why?’
‘Because he can sense danger, grave danger.’
‘Something malevolent reaching out of the distant past?’
‘Yes. Something like that.’
‘What are you going to do?’
‘What do you think I should do?’
‘I think you’ve already made up your mind,’ said Rahima, preferring not to answer the question.
‘Hm.’
‘Have you ever walked away from something like this?’
‘Hm.’
‘I think we both know the answer, don’t we?’
‘That’s what Tristan said.’
‘Not surprising. After all, he can hear the whisper of angels ...’
‘Thanks, Mum,’ said Jack, smiling.
‘When are they going to search the house?’
‘This afternoon.’
‘Then you better run along and follow those breadcrumbs of yours, but please make sure you don’t end up as one of Madame Petrova’s memory trees here.’
Jack reached across and kissed his mother on the cheek. ‘Not yet, anyway,’ he said, and stood up to leave.
46
In the ruins of Malenkova’s house, just outside Paris: 3 November
By the time Jack, Tristan and Dupree arrived at what was left of Malenkova’s house – which wasn’t much – Lapointe and the Forensics team had already entered the building and were at work. They were searching the crypt under the house where the deadly blaze had started and where Malenkova had kept her prized art collection.
Lapointe waved and walked over to Jack. ‘An ingenious idea. A long shot, but worth pursuing. That’s what the Prefect said.’
Jack shrugged. ‘Perhaps it takes divine intervention to solve this riddle.’
‘Stardust, you mean?’ said Dupree. ‘What do you think, Tristan?’
‘Could be.’
‘Perhaps if we listen carefully, we might hear the whisper of angels?’ teased Lapointe.
‘Showing us the way? Who knows? This place is full of voices,’ replied Tristan, looking serious.
‘What do you mean?’ said Jack.
‘So much has happened here.’
‘Oh yes, and it’s making my skin crawl,’ said Tristan and began to take a closer look at the ruins.
‘We even managed to rustle up a metallurgist from the university. She’s downstairs,’ said Lapointe. ‘Shall we go and see how they are going?’
‘Sure, let’s do that,’ said Jack and followed Lapointe inside.
‘Barely recognisable,’ said Dupree, as he remembered the fascinating meeting with Malenkova the year before. It had been on that occasion he’d noticed a painting by Anielka hanging on a wall in Malenkova’s study. As it turned out, this had provided an important clue that ultimately led to Anielka’s exposure.
‘According to the insurance company, the loss assessors have already been through the building to collect anything of value remaining.’
‘Do we know if they found anything?’ asked Jack.
‘Not really. The insurers were very tight-lipped about the entire matter and referred us to their lawyers. As you can see, the ruins have been secured and the entire property has been fenced off. Apparently, it’s all part of some litigation between the estate and the insurance company.’
‘Could take years,’ said Jack.
‘Probably will.’ Dupree turned to Lapointe walking along next to him. ‘A little different from last time we were here, don’t you think?’ He pointed to the stone steps leading down into the crypt. ‘Be careful. No handrails.’
Lapointe stopped at the top of the landing and looked down into the crypt. ‘As I remember it, Zuzanna’s body was found at the bottom of the stairs, and Malenkova’s was just over there. She still had a gun in her hand. What was left of it.’
‘Must have been a hell of a showdown,’ said Jack as he walked carefully down the slippery stairs. ‘So much violence.’
‘And a hell of a blaze,’ said Dupree. ‘An accelerant was used; petrol. The heat must have been ferocious down there. Nothing left but rubble and a shell.’
The Death Mask Murders Page 28