Smokescreen

by Iris Johansen

  “Caladon?”

  “Kalid Caladon. He’s Dobran’s favorite art expert. He’s expert and discreet. Dobran has all his artifacts appraised by him.”

  “And this was an artifact that Dobran sent to him for appraisal? What kind?”

  “A gold statue. Dobran was excited about it. He was even more excited when I brought the report back from Caladon. He had me set up a special glass case in the gallery for the statue and arranged maximum security for it.” He added, “And he started work on the new DNA project the next day.”

  “How? Did he meet with someone? Did he go to the lab?”

  “He didn’t go to the lab. But he must have met with the client because he flew out that morning.” He added quickly, “And that’s all I know. I did what Dobran told me to do, then I was out of it. Dobran spent the next three weeks at the lab before the job was finished.”

  “You know nothing else?” Joe asked.

  “Only that Dobran is crazy about that statue and spends time with it every day.” He thought of something else. “Oh, and he told me to put two more guards on the property.” He added sourly, “But they didn’t keep you out, did they?”

  “Names,” Joe said. “I need client names.”

  “I don’t have any names. I’ve told you all I know.” Sebak’s voice was shaking. “You’ll have to get it from Dobran.”

  Joe was afraid that was true. Sebak was still too frightened not to tell him if there was anything left to confess. “Then that’s what we’ll do.” He pulled Sebak to his feet. “Let’s go.”

  “And am I to be allowed to interrogate Dobran?” Gideon asked. “I’m getting very bored, Quinn.”

  “Maybe.” He pushed Sebak across the room and out the door. “But we’re going to make a stop before we go to see him. I want to take a look at that statue.”

  “I told you that I don’t have the code for the gallery. You’ll have to rely on Sebak.”

  “I’m certain he’ll cooperate,” Joe said as he nudged Sebak toward the gallery. “Isn’t that right?”

  “I don’t know why you want to see it,” Sebak said. “It’s just a statue.”

  “Maybe I’m an art lover. Besides, I want to see what Dobran sees in it and why he wanted it so badly.” He stopped before the ornate carved doors of the gallery and gestured to the panel. “Do your thing. If you set off an alarm, I don’t have to tell you that you’ll regret it.”

  “No.” Sebak was quickly putting in the code. “I wouldn’t do that. Haven’t I done everything you’ve told me to do?” The carved door opened to reveal steel panels that slid silently to each side. “You see?”

  “Yes,” Joe said. “You’ve made a good start. But it’s all in the follow-up. Where’s the statue?”

  “At the end of the second row.” He hurried on ahead. “I’ll show you.”

  Gideon gave a low whistle as he fell into step with Joe. “I’ve seen rooms at the Louvre that don’t have this many treasures.” His gaze was on the rows of glass cases on either side of them containing Egyptian artifacts of every description. “No mummies? I half expect to see King Tut in one of those cases. I bet there are artifacts in here that the government would never permit to be owned in a private collection.”

  “No bet.” The gallery was very heavy on Egyptian artifacts, but there were also priceless originals on the walls by Cezanne, Rembrandt, Titian…“It’s clear he sometimes took his fee in fine art. That Titian is worth far more than this château.”

  “You have a good eye,” Gideon said. “And whoever sent Dobran that artifact must have known that it would be irresistible to him.”

  “Here it is.” Sebak had stopped before a softly lit case at the end of the row. He gestured impatiently. “I told you, it’s just a statue.”

  Joe inhaled sharply as he gazed at the superb artistry of the work. It was no more than eighteen inches but was made of pure gold, and every complicated detail of the slim Egyptian woman it represented was done to perfection, from her crown headpiece to her sandals. “Yes, you did. Only a statue.” He bent closer. “Take it out of the case. I want to examine it.”

  “I’m not allowed to do—” He met Joe’s eyes and reached out to press the coded release on the top of the case. “Be careful. He’ll kill me if it’s damaged.”

  “It’s gold. I’m sure it’s already very old, and gold isn’t that fragile.” He took the statue and looked at it. It was just as magnificent as he’d first thought. “But I can see why he was impressed by her.”

  “I can’t,” Sebak said sourly. “I don’t know why he wanted it. He has others, you know.” Sebak nodded at the row of cases across the room. “Probably older than this one. Age is everything to value according to Caladon. This one is only 44 B.C. But Dobran couldn’t wait to get his hands on it.”

  “Why?” Joe murmured. “It’s exquisite, but why would it mean that much to him?”

  Sebak shrugged. “He told me to make sure Caladon cleaned the base carefully so that every engraved hieroglyph was clear. I think he hoped it would be a name, but it wasn’t. Yet he didn’t seem disappointed. When he got the statue back from Caladon, he even had a gold plaque made for the case itself with the same words inscribed.” He gestured to the small rectangular gold plaque inside the case. “And that wasn’t even done in hieroglyphics.”

  “No.” Gideon was suddenly pushing forward to shine the beam of his flashlight down on the gold plaque. “It’s ordinary, modern Egyptian script, and it only shows that Dobran is a true collector. He wanted to see the proof, know what he had, every time he came to see her. It was his way of claiming her as his property, bringing her into his world where she didn’t belong.” His gaze was narrowed, focused on the delicate script. Then he abruptly went still. “Shit.” He muttered an oath beneath his breath. “Let’s get to Dobran fast, Quinn. No wonder he put on extra guards. I’m surprised that he’s still alive. We have to get the hell out of here. I think we’ve found out all we need to know.”

  “In a minute. I don’t want Sebak around when I’m talking to Dobran.” He pushed Sebak down on the floor and fastened his manacles to the leg of the case. When Sebak started to protest, Joe taped his lips shut again. “And you might have found out all you want, Gideon. But evidently I haven’t,” he said. “I don’t speak Egyptian, much less read it. What does it say? Is it a name?”

  “No, Sebak is right, no name.” Gideon turned toward the door. “Just a kind of title.”

  “What title?”

  “Three words.” He threw open the door. “Great Beloved Wife.”

  Chapter

  ​11

  Robaku

  2:35 A.M.

  Take it away.” Eve pushed the bowl of beef soup to one side. “I can’t eat any more, Jill. And if you argue with me, I’ll throw this bowl at you.”

  “I’m not arguing.” Jill took the bowl and turned away. “I’m lucky I got that much down you. But you had to eat something, you’ve been on fire all day.” She glanced over her shoulder at the skull. “I can tell he’s waiting for you. Or that you’re waiting for him. Or something…” She shook her head. “He’s blurred. I look at him, and I can’t tell anything about him. Can you?”

  Eve nodded. “Like you, I can tell he’s ready and waiting.”

  “Are you nervous?” Jill asked.

  “No. Yes. I’m a little sick to my stomach, but I need this. I have to know.” She drew a deep breath. “Now be still and let me get back to work. I don’t want to hear from you until I’ve finished.”

  “You won’t.” Jill sat down in a chair across the room. “Promise. I won’t even watch what you’re doing. But I do have to be here to watch your back. Okay?”

  “Okay,” Eve said absently, as her fingers reached out to tentatively touch the brow bone on the reconstruction. “You have that photo of Varak?”

  “In my briefcase under my cot. It’s waiting for you, Eve.”

  Waiting.

  She sat there gazing at the smooth clay before her. Everything ha
d been waiting for this moment. The measurements had been taken and checked. The initial sculpting done, the part that told her basically nothing but laid the groundwork. Now it was time to make him come alive.

  She shuddered. No, she couldn’t think of it like she did other reconstructions. She didn’t want him to come alive. Ever since she’d put that skull on the dais, she had been fighting not to think of the person he could be, so that she could block out all the evil and think only of the work itself.

  But now she could no longer do that, she had to accept who and what he was so that she could sculpt that face. Was it her imagination, or did she feel something dark and angry stirring?

  She moved her shoulders to release the tension, her gaze never leaving the skull. “Okay, are you ready?” she whispered. “I’m not afraid of you. Be as angry and ugly as you like. I’ll still get what I want from you. You took so much from so many. Now you have to give at least some of it back.”

  Her fingers moved down to his right cheek.

  Come to me.

  Smooth.

  Mold.

  Fill in.

  Darkness.

  Anger.

  Pay no attention to it. Keep working.

  Go to the ears. That should be easier. They had to be generic. She had no idea whether they stuck out or had longer lobes. Just let it flow and do what seemed right.

  Anger.

  I don’t care. I’m doing this.

  She could no longer even attempt to block him out, but she could keep to the flow and work through that anger and do what she had to do.

  Smooth.

  Mold.

  Fill in.

  Hatred.

  Work faster. Go to the mouth.

  Generic again. She knew the width but not the shape. Better to make the lips closed and without expression. Because the only expression she’d be able to put would be anger and hatred.

  Concentrate.

  Her fingers were flying now, hot and facile on the clay.

  She could do this.

  Lips done.

  She was moving too fast.

  Check the measurements. They were still important.

  Nose width, 31 mm. Correct

  Nose projection, 18 mm. Okay.

  Now concentrate and do the job.

  Anger.

  Go away!

  More shaping to the nostrils.

  Mold.

  Smooth.

  Creasing on either side of the nose.

  Good.

  Smooth.

  Mold.

  Fill in.

  It was better now. She could still feel the darkness dragging at her like a huge lodestone, but it was only exhausting, not frightening.

  She was working feverishly.

  Start the creases beneath the orbital cavities.

  Fill in.

  Mold.

  Smooth…

  * * *

  Asarti

  “Great Beloved Wife?” Joe repeated as he followed Gideon down the hall toward Dobran’s suite. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “Trouble.” He glanced over his shoulder at the statue Joe was still carrying. “And very revealing. Plus as dangerous as a flesh-eating parasite for Dobran to possess. That’s why we’ve got to get out of here ASAP. There’s no way that Zahra would let that statue out of her hands if she hadn’t intended to get it back. She probably has her own version of a SWAT team watching the house, ready to take Dobran out.”

  “Zahra Kiyani?” Joe said. “You’re saying she hired Dobran. Why would she want to fake Varak’s death? He worked for the Botzans, her enemy. She had every reason to want him dead. He almost destroyed her country.”

  “You’ll have to ask Dobran. All I know for sure is that she almost certainly did the hiring.”

  “Because of the statue.” Joe looked down at the statue. “It belonged to her? You’ve seen it before?”

  “No, but it’s a statue of Kiya, one of Akhenaten’s queens during his reign in the Eighteenth Dynasty. On every artifact bearing her name, it was followed or preceded by The Great Beloved Wife. That’s what’s engraved on that statue you’re holding. Zahra has always had an obsession about her. Kiya, Zahra’s ancestor who founded the Kiyanis, was named for Akhenaten’s wife by her mother, Cleopatra. Even in Kiya’s journal, she mentioned that the reason that Cleopatra gave her the same name was because of the stories, passed down through the centuries, of how Queen Kiya was so loved by Akhenaten. Didn’t Eve mention any of this to you?”

  “Probably. It’s vaguely familiar. But I guarantee I wasn’t paying much attention to any tall tales about Cleopatra. I had other things to think about. As I do right now.” He added grimly, “And there could have been other people who had access to a statue of Akhenaten’s queen.”

  “But maybe not one sculpted between 50 and 30 B.C., when Cleopatra and her daughter were alive. That’s unusual in itself when Akhenaten and his wives died back in the Eighteenth Dynasty.” He slowed and gestured ahead. “Dobran’s suite is the second door on the left. Let’s see if he can give us a few answers, provided he can focus through his usual haze. Though it might not be possible. Either way, we have to get out of here. Agreed?”

  “Agreed.” Joe moved quickly down the hall and unlocked the door.

  The heavy scent of opium.

  A man dressed in loose trousers and an open white shirt was lying sprawled on the couch with an opium pipe in his lips. He appeared to be asleep.

  Shit.

  “Not much chance of getting answers,” Gideon said. “Still want to try?”

  “Hell, yes,” Joe said. “I don’t like the alternative of having to take him with us and get answers later.”

  “You didn’t mention that alternative,” Gideon said. “I don’t like it either.”

  “Hold this.” Joe thrust the statue at Gideon. Then he was across the room and yanking the pipe out of Dobran’s mouth.

  No response.

  He shook him. “Wake up, Dobran.”

  Dobran opened his eyes. “Go away.” His voice was slurred. “You have no…right to be here. Son of a bitch…I’ll have you…castrated.”

  “Oh, now that does make me mad. Wake up.” Joe slapped him. No response. Once again. “Keep your eyes open, dammit.”

  “Tired…”

  “Give me the statue, Gideon.” He dug his hand in Dobran’s hair and jerked his head back. He held the statue squarely in front of his face. “If you don’t keep your eyes open, I’m going to hammer this statue into a pile of rubble.”

  “No!” Dobran’s lids flew open. “Mine. I’ll kill you…”

  “Is it yours? Who gave it to you?”

  “Bitch. Arrogant bitch…Only a down payment. She promised she’d give me more. She said she had lots more…”

  “Who?”

  “But she never gave me anything else…and she even wanted that statue back. Bitch.” He reached out and tried to grasp the statue. “So beautiful…Mine.”

  “Who?” Joe repeated.

  “Did I tell you I was going to castrate you?”

  “Who?”

  “Maldara…Kiyani…”

  “Why?”

  “How do I know? She wanted it done…” His eyes closed. “They pay me, I do it. But he was too dangerous. She shouldn’t have cheated me.”

  “Who was he?”

  “You know who he is. Everyone knows him…” He was dozing off to sleep again. “But she shouldn’t have tried to take the statue back…”

  And no matter how Joe shook him, he only got mumbles and complaints. Joe was cursing low and vehemently beneath his breath as he released Dobran’s hair and let his head fall back on the pillow of the couch. “Dammit, it’s not enough.”

  “What do you mean? You know it was Zahra. He said as much.”

  “Yes, but I’m going to have to squeeze more out of him. I can’t risk his going on the run or ending up a corpse if Zahra decides he has to be taken out.” He put the statue in his backpack. “And Eve ma
y need him to testify if all this shit comes tumbling down around her.” He slipped on the backpack. “Come on. Help me. We’ve got to take him with us.”

  “That was the scenario I wasn’t looking forward to facing.” Gideon helped him get Dobran onto his feet, and they half carried, half pulled him toward the door. “How do you intend we do it? Go right through all those sentries, lugging him along behind us?”

  “No, we go back to the gallery, pick up Sebak again, and let him show us the other way out.”

  “What other way out? We have the house-renovation plans. Every exit leads out front or to the side gardens protected by sentries.”

  “But there was something missing.” They’d reached the grand staircase and were having to balance Dobran’s weight to keep him from falling down the stairs. “I told you that it wasn’t right.”

  “But you didn’t tell me why.”

  “The gallery. You said everything was built around keeping the gallery safe. But there was only one door, and it led to the hall and the front doors. Dobran would have wanted another way to get his treasures out of the château in an emergency. Only he wouldn’t have wanted it put in the house plans for everyone to see.”

  “You’re guessing.”

  “Of course.” They were on the staircase landing. “But it’s a good guess, and I’m banking on it. It’s better than trying to yank Dobran through that garden and having to deal with—”

  An explosion rocked the house.

  Fire!

  Flames were suddenly ripping through the foyer below them.

  Then another explosion.

  “The gallery.” Joe and Gideon were dragging Dobran down the rest of the steps. “Get him to the gallery.”

  Smoke.

  Another explosion. This time from the kitchen.

  It was hard to see now.

  It took them twice as long as it should have to reach the gallery.

  A minute more to punch in the code he’d watched Sebak enter.

  Then they were inside.

  The heavy steel door slid closed behind them.

  Joe released his hold on Dobran and pressed the lock on the door. “Bring him. I’ve got to get to Sebak.” He was running down the aisle. “We’ve got to get out of here before the local fire department shows up with the police and an antiterrorist unit. And those grounds out front will be teeming with Dobran’s sentries by now.” He’d reached Sebak and knelt to free him from the handcuffs and rip off his tape.