Dark Eye of the Jaguar

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Dark Eye of the Jaguar Page 15

by Robert Mitchell


  “What if we refused?” Sue asked.

  “We are hoping to convince you that it would be in your best interests to agree with us.”

  “How?” I asked. “If we don’t want to hand them over, the only recourse you’d have would be through the courts. You’d be hard pressed to prove that the cross, and any other pieces that might be in the chest, originally belonged to the Church.” I paused and then said, in my best lawyer voice: “I think you’d lose.”

  “Ah, well, on that score there is one other thing that I have not disclosed to you. I was getting around to it.”

  “What’s that?” Sue asked.

  “Two of the paintings that were stolen by the Boxers, or by the people who came into the church after the Boxers had left, were recovered by the Church in 1956 at a sale at Christie’s in London. One of them is the one referred to by the Lancer Captain. It is a painting of one of our Bishops, and he is wearing the cross. There is no doubt that it is the same cross, and there is therefore no doubt that it belongs to the Society of Jesus. But, as I have already said, we do not want there to be anything other than an amicable settlement between the Society of Jesus and yourselves.”

  “Well, just what sort of settlement do you propose?” I asked.

  “The relics themselves have no commercial value. The items of regalia are extremely valuable, both because of their composition, their gold and precious and semi-precious stones, and because of their rarity. The Society is prepared to pay you a certain figure. I have to say at the outset that this is our final figure, not one which is just an opening bid, as you would say.”

  “And just what is this figure?” Sue asked.

  “We are prepared to offer a sum equal to one half of the present day value of all items of regalia recovered.”

  “What is the basis of the value to be?” she asked.

  “The price that they might be expected to fetch at an auction on the open market,” he replied. “The value is to be the average of that fixed by valuers from both sides, one valuer of your choice and one of ours, such valuers to be respected members of the antique fraternity. We intend nothing but fairness on our part.”

  “What about the relics?” Sue asked. I had thought that I was the hungry one, the one who was chasing the dollars, but Sue had jumped in before I could even open my mouth. “They must have a value. There must be collectors who would pay millions for something like the Shroud of Turin if they could get their hands on it.”

  “Yes,” he replied. “There are such collectors, but the relics must not be treated as commercial items. They are sacred. They must be respected and revered. They can not be the subject of argument over their value. They are both priceless and valueless at the same time. We feel that fifty per cent of the value of the regalia and any other pieces should more than compensate you for any additional claim that you might believe you have in the relics.”

  I glanced at Sue and saw the change in her expression. It was her religious streak taking over. She agreed with him. Me? I wasn’t worried about a bunch of bones or a piece of cloth. I was happy with a fifty per cent pay-out on the cross, the gold medallion, and the rest of whatever might be in the chest. He had already agreed that the jade wasn’t theirs, and probably neither were the two pieces of Chinese gold.

  “What do you people think that the cross would bring at auction in say London or New York?” I asked.

  “We don’t know.”

  “You must have some idea.”

  “Yes, but it is only a guess. We would have to consult experts, and we haven’t done that yet,” he replied.

  “What’s your best guess?” I asked.

  “Somewhere in excess of one million dollars, but less than five.”

  “Jesus bloody Christ!”

  “Please, Ben,” he exclaimed, his hands suddenly springing apart, palms towards me. “I would prefer that you would not take the Lord’s name in vain, even though you don’t believe in Him.”

  “Now hang on!” I shot back at him. “I believe there was a guy who lived a bit over two thousand years ago and that he was called Jesus. I believe that he might have been some sort of evangelist, but I don’t believe most of the rest of it.” I paused before continuing. “But that’s beside the point. We are talking about artefacts here, not religion.” I looked at Sue and then back to Father Joseph, and then back to Sue again. “It’s worth over a million dollars, Sue!” I said, still not quite believing it.

  Father Joseph smiled and nodded.

  “And we’d get at least half a million?” I asked, trying hard not to grin like an idiot.

  “Yes,” he replied. “And even more if the value of the cross is higher, and then even more if there are any other parts of the regalia in the chest.”

  “What about anything in the chest that doesn’t belong to the Church?” Sue asked.

  “Naturally we would make no claim to anything like that,” he replied.

  “What do you think, Ben?” she asked.

  “Sounds good to me,” I replied, and then turned to Joseph. “Can we get something in writing? As you probably know, I used to be a solicitor, a lawyer. Oral contracts are not worth a pinch of poop.”

  “Would you require something in great detail?” he asked.

  “No, just something like a Heads of Agreement document. All we need is something that sets out the main points. A detailed agreement only gives us lawyers more things to argue about.”

  “Let me speak to Father Xavier,” he said. “I’m certain he can arrange for something to be emailed to the mission here.”

  “Great,” I replied.

  “Tell me,” he asked. “What had you intended to do with the chest once you had dug it up? I’m presuming that it’s still there of course.”

  “It’s still where the Captain hid it, if that’s what you mean,” I replied. “You and I both know it’s there. If it had been found, there’d be whispers of some of the items appearing on the market. You guys would have heard about them.”

  “Possibly,” he said.

  “And anyway,” I continued. “What’s all this garbage about digging it up?” I was getting slightly annoyed. “We never said it’s buried!”

  “So it’s not buried then,” he replied quietly.

  “And I didn’t say that either!” I snapped back at him.

  “Hey, Ben,” Sue interrupted. “Calm down.”

  “Okay,” I said after a few seconds. “We have a legal expression which states, roughly, that we neither confirm nor deny. Let’s just say that it’s hidden. Okay?”

  “Very well,” he replied. “I won’t press the point.”

  “Fine,” Sue stated firmly, before I could get my word in.

  There was a pause of several seconds and then he asked: “Well?”

  “Well what?” I replied, still thinking of what Sue and I could do with half a million dollars.

  “What were you intending to do with the chest and its contents when, and if, you found it?”

  “We were going to take the contents back to Australia and then put them up for auction. I hadn’t thought about what we’d do with the chest. We thought it was just some metal trunk or other that the Boxers had picked up along the way. We were going to discard it. We hadn’t realised it had any religious significance.”

  “I don’t think it does,” Joseph replied.

  “But you were talking about the caskets that contained the relics. The chest might be one of them,” Sue said.

  “No, the caskets are quite small. I doubt whether even the cross could fit into one of them. No, the chest must have been something which the Boxers picked up elsewhere.”

  “Okay, then,” I said. “It’s probably not your chest then.”

  “No, but anyway, how were you going to get the contents out of China?” he asked again. “The Chinese government has a restriction on the export of antiques which would probably apply to these items even though they are not of Chinese origin.”

  “We hadn’t got that far,” S
ue replied. “We’d probably have put them in our hand luggage. We couldn’t have risked putting them in our suitcases. They could’ve been stolen anywhere along the way.”

  “Hand luggage wouldn’t have been a good idea either, Sue,” I said, thinking about the problem for the first time. “We’d be x-rayed here in Beijing and again in Singapore.” I turned back to Father Joseph. “Like Sue said, we hadn’t got that far.”

  Father Joseph didn’t say a word; he just smiled, perhaps laughing inwardly at our amateur foolishness.

  “But it doesn’t matter now, does it,” I continued. “Your mob will finish up with the relics, if the chest is where we think it is, and the regalia. All we’ll have to shift is a load of money, and that’ll be done by a simple bank transfer.”

  “Yes, Ben,” Sue asked. “But what if there’s more items like the jade we sold to Jackson Lee, and the two pieces of Asian gold? If there are items that the Church doesn’t want, how do we get them out of China? Or do we sell them to Mr Lee and let him worry about getting them to Hong Kong?”

  “How the hell should I know?” I said a little too sharply. “Maybe we can rent a safe-deposit box in some bank here in Beijing, that’s if they have such a thing, and leave them here until we sort out what to do with them.”

  “I was only asking,” she said. “There’s no need to bite my head off!”

  “Okay,” I replied. “I’m sorry. Okay?”

  “I think that you should wait until the chest has been recovered,” Father Joseph said before things got out of hand. “Once we’ve done that, then we can decide what to do. However there is one other thing that worries both me and the Church.”

  “What’s that?” Sue asked.

  “We believe that Jackson Lee is after more than just those items he considers belonged to his family.”

  “Do you think he’s after what might be in the chest, the church regalia?” Sue asked.

  “I think it is a distinct possibility,” Joseph replied. “And I don’t think his offer would be anywhere nearly as generous as that made by the Church.” He flicked the hair away from his forehead again.

  “You reckon he intends to steal the chest, don’t you,” I said.

  “There could be no other reason for him to be watching you. If his intentions were to negotiate for the purchase of anything that the chest might contain, then he would have made his presence known in the same manner as we have made ours known.”

  “Wait a minute,” Sue said. “We’ve only got your word that he’s had us followed. For all we know there might be nobody watching us. Maybe you’re just trying to scare us!”

  I had been thinking the same thing. I hadn’t given Jackson Lee the chance to explain what his telephone call had been about, and we had been out of the room before he had a chance to call back, but then again, I hadn’t heard the telephone ring as we had been creeping down the passage towards the stairway.

  “I am a priest,” Joseph replied solemnly, slightly offended. If he was acting, then he was pretty good at it. “I do not lie.” He paused for a moment and then continued. “However, I can see your point. If you wish, you could go for a walk and take note of the people around you, and see if the same faces keep cropping up. I don’t think it would be a wise thing to do, but, if it will make you any happier, then do so. It is entirely up to you.”

  “The same faces!” Sue exclaimed. “They’re Chinese for goodness sake! They all look the same! That’s not going to prove anything!”

  “Calm down, Sue,” I said. “We’ve got to believe him. I like the deal he’s offered on behalf of the Jesuits, and I didn’t like the way things were going with Lee, and neither did you.”

  She thought for a moment and then nodded her agreement.

  “Very good,” Joseph said quietly. “Thank you both. Now, what we recommend is that you leave this hotel and come and stay with us. It is not safe to remain here.”

  “What,” I asked. “You want us to check out?”

  “No. You should keep your room, and you should leave all of your things here in the hotel, except those personal items that you might require, such as toiletries and a few items of clothing. It needs to appear that you are still staying here. If you disappear then Lee’s men will look elsewhere for you. We can purchase additional clothing for you later on.”

  “What about our passports?” I asked.

  “They will be quite safe with the hotel.”

  “But how do we get out if Lee’s men are watching for us?” Sue asked. “If we walk out with a bag containing a few items of clothing and other bits and pieces they’re certain to think something’s up.”

  “You will leave here with nothing,” Joseph replied, smiling. “I will take the bag and leave ten or fifteen minutes after you do. It will look as though you are merely going for a walk.”

  “What, in this freezing weather?” I asked.

  “Ben!” Sue snapped.

  “But they’ll still follow us,” I said. “You said they will. So how do we get away from them?”

  “That will not be a problem. I will telephone and arrange for a special taxi to collect you a few hundred metres from the hotel. The driver will pull in to the kerb and ask you if you want a taxi. Look at his rear vision mirror, the one inside the car. You will see a rosary hanging from it. He will then mention my name, so that you will know he comes from us. Is that all right with both of you?”

  I looked at Sue. She shrugged her shoulders and said: “I guess so. What do you reckon, Ben?”

  “Sounds okay,” I said, nodding our acceptance to Joseph.

  “Fine,” he said. “Please wait a few minutes whilst I make the call.”

  Five minutes later it was all arranged. We followed Father Joseph back to our room, once again walking quietly and peeking around corners. We collected a few things together and stowed them in my back-pack.

  “My goodness,” Joseph said, smiling, and trying to hide a grin. “That is a fine-looking bag. Where did you get it?”

  The back-pack was bright red with a big yellow sunflower painted on it. Father Joseph was the third person to comment on it since we had arrived in China. The last person had been the clerk on the reception desk. I shrugged my shoulders and handed the back-pack and Sue’s laptop computer to him. He wiped the smile, opened the door, and peered out.

  “All clear?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he replied. “Good luck.”

  “Wait!” I suddenly said a little too loudly.

  “What?” Joseph asked.

  “My bloody parka.” Sue was still wearing hers, but mine was still in the suitcase. I wasn’t going out into the chill of Beijing without it a second time.

  Thirty seconds later I took Sue’s hand and we went down by the stairs, leaving Joseph still in our room. I wasn’t confident in using the elevator in case somebody got in at one of the lower floors. As we walked across the lobby I saw a Chinese guy stir in his chair and then rise as we reached the revolving door. He was wearing a parka and a heavy woollen hat even though the temperature in the foyer must have been in the low twenties on the Celsius scale, almost warm enough to go without a sweater. He was out of place.

  “Did you see him?” Sue asked as we pushed and shuffled our way out into the cold.

  “Yeah,” I replied out of the side of my mouth. “Is he still there?”

  Sue halted and then bent down to tighten the lace of one shoe as soon as we had exited the building. “He’s half way across the lobby now, heading in our direction,” she muttered as she stood upright. “Let’s keep going. Did Joseph say to go left or right when we reached the street?”

  “Left, I think, I hope,” I replied. “God, but it’s bloody cold!” I zipped the parka up to my neck and thrust my hands deep into its pockets. The cold air flowed down into my lungs, biting into my throat on its way.

  “Yes, and you’re the guy who wanted to come to China a couple of months ago, right in the middle of winter. You would have died! This is nothing. Which way did you say we h
ad to go?”

  “Very funny,” I said. “I think Joseph said that we should turn left when we got on to the street.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  We continued on for a hundred metres or so, dodging around puddles of water; thin sheets of broken ice floating on several of them. Then it was my turn to tighten a shoe-lace.

  “He’s still behind us,” I said to Sue. “Where’s that bloody taxi!”

  She laced her arm through mine and pulled herself close, ramming her mitten-enclosed hand back into her pocket again. If she was relying on me for protection she might have to think again. I was on the point of turning and racing back to the comparative safety of the hotel. The guy following us seemed big for a Chinese, unsmiling and not making a very good job of blending in to the background. Was he there to follow us? Or were there several others ahead of us, just waiting for some non-descript van to pull alongside and we would be thrust into its interior, then bound and gagged. I looked around for such a van and veered away from a couple of suspicious-looking Chinese men ten or so metres ahead. And then I looked at the rest of the people on the footpath. They all looked suspicious.

  Sue suddenly pulled at my arm.

  Six

  “There!” she said.

  I looked towards where her tilted head was pointing. Fifty metres further on, a taxi had eased to the footpath.

  “You want taxi?” the driver asked as we drew alongside, touching himself at the bottom of his neck then to his stomach and then on either side of his chest as I leaned in at the opened window and glanced up at the rear vision mirror. There was a small beaded chain with a cross attached, swinging slowly from side to side.

  “Who sent you?” I asked.

  “Father Angelo. He send me.”

  “Who?” I asked, stepping back, glancing over my shoulder at the man who had been following us, now only five or so metres away.

  “Ah, most sorry,” the driver said. “He tell me tell you Father Joseph send me. Okay?”

  “Okay,” I said and we both climbed in. If it had been a set-up, the guy following us would have jumped forward by now, forcing us into the cab. I hoped my reasoning was correct. The taxi took off slowly. I had expected the driver to take off like a rocket and then scream around the next corner.

 

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