Parisian Affair

by Gould, Judith

  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.

  Ram got to his feet. 'Enough talk, Allegra,' he said. 'I think I've explained everything to you. A needy duchess sells jewels that don't belong to her. Jules Levant buys them. I buy them back after I've inherited his business, then—'

  'I'm—I'm sure Jules Levant would be rolling over in his grave,' Allegra broke in, the drug affecting her, making thought and speech an effort, 'if he knew what you've done with his . . . with his legacy.'

  'Well, he doesn't know, does he?' Ram said. 'He's dead, and I killed him, so I should know.'

  Allegra's eyes widened in horror. 'You—you actually killed him?' she stuttered.

  'He was dying anyway,' Ram said. 'Just like his old friend downstairs, Solomon Weiss. All I did was help them along.'

  'Mr. Weiss is dead?' She was stunned by the news. 'But I only saw him—'

  'I know you saw him,' Ram said. 'Why do you think I got rid of him?'

  Allegra thought she would faint, but she fought back the urge. I can't let him win, she thought miserably. If for no one else but Solomon Weiss, I have to fight back.

  Ram walke
d to a console and opened a large decorative box that sat on it. When he turned back around, a pair of handcuffs and something similar to them, only larger, dangled from his hands. He held them up for her to see clearly.

  'Wh-what are you doing?' she gasped.

  Ram approached the couch, and when she shrank away from him, he laughed softly. 'These are for your boyfriend,' he said, quickly encircling Todd's wrists with the handcuffs. He snapped first one side shut, then the other. Todd didn't react in any way, but continued breathing shallow, silent breaths.

  When what he was doing registered in her foggy brain, Allegra cried out. 'No! Don't you touch him!' She stood up on shaky legs and pushed at Ram with all her might, but she was so weak she succeeded only in falling down against the coffee table.

  'Don't hurt yourself, Allegra,' Ram said smoothly as he placed the leg irons around Todd's ankles, snapped them shut, and then locked them.

  Allegra placed both hands on the coffee table and struggled to her feet.

  'Now,' Ram said, brushing his hands off, 'your young man won't be going anywhere.'

  'Oh, Todd,' she whimpered, sinking down onto the couch next to him. 'Todd ...'

  Ram clenched one of her wrists in his left hand, then grabbed the other with his right. He pulled on her forcefully. 'You're coming with me, Allegra,' he said. 'Into my closet. My little playroom.'

  Allegra felt herself being pulled off the couch, and since she didn't have the strength to fight him off, she let her body go completely limp, an easy task under the circumstances.

  'You're not being cooperative, Allegra,' Ram said impatiently, as if he were dealing with a recalcitrant child. 'Stand up.'

  Allegra made no effort to get to her feet. Let the son of a bitch do the work, she thought. Whatever his plans are for me, he's getting no help carrying them out.

  'Stand up now!' Ram said through gritted teeth.

  Still she did not budge to aid him, but let him pull on her wrists with all his might. Her body slid off the couch and onto the floor, where she slumped as if she were a broken doll.

  'Goddamn you!' Ram swore. He let go of her wrists, then slapped her face.

  'You—you bastard!' Allegra cried, reaching up to touch her cheek.

  Ram brought his hand back, prepared to strike her again, but his cell phone began ringing at that moment. 'Fuck,' he swore under his breath. He went to the console where he'd put down the cell phone when they'd first arrived. Picking it up, he flipped it open.

  'Yes?' he said, staring across the room at Allegra as she struggled to get to her feet.

  Princess Karima dropped ice cubes into Marcus's crystal old-fashioned glass, then splashed more Jack Daniel's over them. 'Water, darling?'

  'Not necessary,' Marcus drawled drunkenly.

  She took his drink to him, then made another for herself before sitting back down. 'Cheers,' she said, lifting her glass.

  'Cheers,' Marcus said before taking a sip from his. He set the glass down and then looked over at her. 'My God, Karima,' he said with a chortle, 'we've put the booze away tonight. I think I'm actually drunk.'

  She laughed merrily. 'Me, too,' she said. 'Perhaps we should take a moonlight walk in the garden to sober up a bit.'

  'A walk?' he said, looking at her. 'You're serious?'

  'Yes,' she said gaily. 'Let me get our coats. I'll be right back.' She got up and floated out of the room, her silk caftan, this one turquoise with several rows of braided trim made from real gold, lifting like a cloud behind her.

  Marcus lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply, happy that Karima was acting like her old self again. Not a care in the world.

  She returned, wearing her floor-length Russian-sable greatcoat with its hood. Across one arm, she carried his cashmere overcoat. 'Here, darling,' she said. 'Up, up. And off we'll go.'

  Marcus rose to his feet and took the coat from her, then put it on.

  'Let's take our drinks,' Karima said, picking hers up.

  'The better to sober us up,' he laughed, taking his from the table.

  They went out through one of the French doors in the conservatory, crossed the stone terrace, and began walking down one of the garden paths, their breath visible in the night air.

  'It's beautiful, isn't it, darling?' Princess Karima said.

  'Gorgeous,' Marcus replied.

  'Let's go down to the pergola by the pond,' she said, 'and sit for a while.'

  'That's a lovely idea,' Marcus said. He took a swallow of his drink. 'You always have the best ideas, Karima.'

  They reached the columned pergola and sat down side by side on a bench. Huge, gnarled wisteria vines, not yet in leaf, crisscrossed the top of the pergola, casting bizarre shadows in the moonlight.

  'It's so peaceful here,' Marcus said. 'So quiet and beautiful with the moonlight reflecting off the pond.'

  'Isn't it?' Karima said, swirling the drink around in her glass.

  Behind them, a short, dark figure approached slowly on silent feet.

  'Look, Marcus, darling,' Karima said. 'Is that one of the swans on the pond?'

  'I don't see it,' Marcus replied, squinting his eyes. Suddenly he felt something cold at the back of his head. 'What—?' he began.

  Karima quickly slid away from him and covered her ears with her hands.

  Marcus started to turn to look at her, but his head froze, his mouth open in a question, his eyes wide with wonder. The bullet exploded in his brain, killing him instantly. He didn't even hear the soft thump of the silenced revolver before he slumped forward, then slid off the bench.

  Princess Karima rose to her feet and backed away without looking at the body. Mimi came from behind the bench, sliding the revolver into the capacious pocket of the apron she wore.

  'Go,' she said to Princess Karima. 'I'll take care of this.'

  Princess Karima didn't look into the old woman's tiny, close-set eyes, but nodded, her gaze averted. She turned and walked back to the mill- house, leaving the scent of Golconda in her wake.

  'Laheen!' Ram swore in Arabic. 'Damn you, Kadar!'

  From where she sat on the couch, Allegra listened, certain that Ram was receiving the bad news that the emerald was not in the suite at the Ritz. The smartest thing she could have done, she decided, was take it to Monsieur Lenoir and have him send it in a diplomatic pouch to New York. He had contacts at the American embassy, so it had been an easy matter for him to handle.

  Ram glared at her from across the room, alternately talking and listening, his voice quieter but his face purple with rage. He abruptly turned his back to her, and she was glad his hate-filled eyes were no longer upon her.

  Todd emitted a barely audible moan, and Allegra ran her fingers through his raven hair with loving tenderness. When he moaned again, she gave his shoulders a shake, but he didn't respond. There was nothing she would like more than to curl up beside him and sleep off the effects of the drug, but that was out of the question. She had to fight the urge with every ounce of strength she had.

  She wondered what would happen next, whether or not Ram would try to sexually assault her. A wave of panic swept over her, for she didn't think she could fight him off. But there was one thing she was sure of: he wouldn't kill her, at least not yet. She was the only person who knew where the emerald was. But if he found out it was already in New York, what then? What would he do if he knew the emerald was beyond his grasp?

  'Maah as-salaama,' she heard Ram say before he flipped shut his cell phone and turned back around to face her. His expression was at first solemn. Then abruptly his lips spread into a smile.

  'You are very clever, Allegra,' he said.

  'Oh? How so?' she asked, feigning an expression of innocence.

  'You have hidden the emerald somewhere,' he replied, slowly crossing the room in her direction. 'You haven't placed it in the safe or elsewhere in your suite at the Ritz. My man has turned your rooms upside down and inside out.'

  'I'm not a complete fool,' she said defiantly.

  'No,' he said, now standing
over her, 'I'll give you credit for that.' He paused, looking down at her upturned face. 'But you're very foolish nevertheless.' He reached over and grabbed her hair with a hand, pulling on it with fierce power.

  Allegra cried out. 'No! Stop it. You're hurting me.'

  'I've only begun to hurt you,' he replied, giving the length of hair in his hand a jerk. 'You don't yet know what pain is. But you're going to find out before I'm through with you.'

  Allegra's skull burned as if set on fire, but the pain signaled to her that her body was more capable of fighting back than she'd thought.

  'Now, get up,' Ram snapped. 'You're coming with me, and if not willingly, then I'll drag you by your hair.'

  'If—if you'll let go, I'll—I'll get up,' Allegra replied, barely able to get the words out with the pain streaking through her skull.

  Ram loosened his grip, and Allegra pushed herself up off the couch. When she did so, her small beaded handbag slid off the couch and landed on the rug. She looked down at it, hesitated a moment, then bent to pick it up.

  'I don't think you'll need your purse, Allegra,' Ram said with a smile.

  Allegra smiled brightly, holding the evening bag in one hand. 'A lady never knows, does she, Ram?'

  He took her free hand in one of his. 'Come with me,' he said. 'We're going to have a little fun. Then you're going to tell me where you've hidden the emerald.'

  Allegra let him lead her toward the closet under the bedroom loft.

  Ram stopped at the closet door, opened it, then reached around and switched on a light. He stepped back and propelled her forward into the room, and Allegra's gaze swept about it. For a moment, she thought she would be sick. Bile rose in her throat, its taste sour and bitter, but she fought it down. The bed, a twin-size covered in a black spread, was equipped with chains and ropes that were secured at both the head- and footboards. From the ceiling more chains dangled, at the ends of which were large, padded handcuffs. On the walls hung scary-looking belts, whips, cat-o'-nine-tails, and various masks and hoods.