Authors: Heaven
Bobbi Smith (2 page)
One
London, 1830
The tall, dark-haired man stood at the window of his study anxiously surveying the deserted, night-shrouded street below. A steady rain had been falling all day, and it continued, cold and miserable, into the night. A sudden, vicious gust of wind splattered rain against the window pane, blurring Lawrence Anthony’s vision. He turned away in frustration.
Glancing at the mantel clock, Lawrence noted the time; nearly nine. His meeting with Dwyer had been scheduled for eight.
Where was the man? Had something gone wrong?
Where was the man? Had something gone wrong?
The last thought brought an inward grimace. Tonight he would achieve the goal he’d set for himself ten years before, when he’d first heard the legend of the Crown of Desire. Tonight he would actually have the crown in his possession. He smiled at the prospect.
Now, if only Dwyer would show up
. . .
Now, if only Dwyer would show up
. . .
Forcing himself to be patient, Lawrence went to sit at his desk and review his notes on the crown one more time. A passionate lover of Ancient Egyptian history, he’d learned of the relic and its curse while on a trip to Cairo all those years before. Having always found a great challenge in solving the unsolvable, he’d begun investigating the intriguing tale of the dead royal lovers. There had been times during the past decade when he’d almost believed the legend was just that—a story with no basis. Even so, he’d never given up, and now his obsessive need to discover the truth had given him the answer he’d long sought. The Crown of Desire did exist, and tonight it would be his.
Lawrence knew many of his fellow countrymen didn’t share his interest or devotion to things of the past. He’d been called a rich eccentric by some and an art collector extraordinaire by others, but it didn’t matter. What was important to him was finding and preserving the rare and beautiful artifacts that had been lost beneath the sands of time, and he didn’t trust governments or museums to do an adequate job of it. And the Crown of Desire was the rarest and most beautiful of all.
Lawrence felt no fear as he reread the legend of the beautiful princess and her curse on anyone who sought the crown in greed. He didn’t covet the crown for its value, though if the stories were true, it was worth a fortune. No, he sought the crown for the love of its history.
Lawrence got up and returned to the window to take up his watch once more. This time, he saw a man slowly making his way down the street, his cloak wrapped tightly around him to protect against the wind and rain. Lawrence waited and watched, hoping this was Dwyer and that his quest for the crown was finally at an end.
Outside on the street, the eerie moaning of the wind rent the silence of the dank night and sent a shiver through Dwyer as he hurried through the fog. The sound of his footsteps echoed hollowly as he completed this last leg of his journey.
The rain was unrelenting, and he realized that he’d forgotten just how ugly the weather could be in London at this time of year. For one perverse moment, he almost missed the burning sun and dry heat of the land he’d just fled, but he quickly pushed the thought aside. He was never going back to that wretched life. The prize he carried, hidden in the folds of his cloak, guaranteed it.
At the thought of the treasure in his possession, the man quickened his pace. He was almost at the home of the collector now, and he was eager to turn the prize over to him . . . especially after what had happened to Bailey and Green, his bosses on the dig.
The curse.
Dwyer shivered again, but this time it wasn’t from the cold, it was from the memory of how the two men had died . . . so suddenly, so horribly, so mysteriously . . .
The curse.
Dwyer shivered again, but this time it wasn’t from the cold, it was from the memory of how the two men had died . . . so suddenly, so horribly, so mysteriously . . .
Dwyer reached Anthony’s house and hurried up the walk to the door. As soon as he turned the crown over to the collector, he’d have enough money to buy himself anything he wanted. The idea brought him great pleasure, for he loved money. His fear of the curse faded as he patted the ebony case he carried so close to his body. Soon he was going to be very rich. He smiled, then knocked on the door and waited.
A somber silver-haired butler opened the door to his summons. “May I help you?”
“I’m Jerod Dwyer. I have an appointment with Mr. Anthony,” he stated.
“Mr. Anthony is expecting you. Please come in.” The servant held the door wide for him to enter. “May I take your cloak?”
“No.” Dwyer responded sharply. He wanted to keep the prize hidden until he was face-to-face with the man who was buying it.
If the servant thought his behavior odd, he betrayed no trace of it. “Then, please, follow me.”
Dwyer glanced around at the expensive furnishings as he followed the butler from the cavernous, marble-floored foyer down a long, wide hall toward the study. He was pleased that the transaction was finally to take place. Anthony obviously had the money he needed, and he had the treasure Anthony so desperately desired. It would be a simple exchange with each of them coming away satisfied.
The butler stopped before a closed door and knocked. “Sir, Mr. Dwyer has arrived.”
“Show him in, please, Martin.”
Without pause, the servant opened the door and motioned to Dwyer to enter. Dwyer moved into the room where a studious-looking man came forward to greet him.
“Mr. Dwyer? I’m Lawrence Anthony.” Relief and excitement commingled within Lawrence as he faced Dwyer, but he managed to project an image of outward calm as he offered him his hand.
“A pleasure, sir,” Dwyer responded, and he meant it as he shook Anthony’s hand. It was indeed a pleasure to be at his journey’s end. All that was left was to get his money and leave. The past few months had been hellish, but they were over now. His future lay before him, bright and shining and rich.
“You have the crown?” Lawrence kept his tone businesslike as he got straight to the point. He’d followed so many false leads in his quest that he could tolerate no further delay. He had to see it. He had to know.
“Right here.” Dwyer drew the chest from within the folds of his cloak and stepped forward to place it on the desktop.
“Would you open it for me, please?” Lawrence asked quietly as he moved to stand behind the desk. His anticipation was so great that he was surprised to find that his voice was steady.
Dwyer produced a key, unlocked the chest, then turned it toward the other man and lifted the lid. He watched the collector cautiously, and he smiled in triumph when he saw the other man’s expression turn rapt.
“May I touch it?” Lawrence’s voice was hushed for he was mesmerized by the beauty of the relic before him.
Dwyer pushed the chest across the desktop closer to him.
With shaking hands, Lawrence reached for the crown.
“It’s every bit as magnificent as the legend says,” he said, lifting the cherished object and holding it up to study the huge, heart-shaped ruby that adorned it.
“It certainly is,” Dwyer fought down his own greedy impatience. He didn’t want to stand there and watch this man ogle the crown. He wanted to get his money and go!
“I find it difficult to believe that something so beautiful could be tainted with such a cruel curse.”
“Ah, the curse . . . just part of the legend as far as I’m concerned. I’ve had no problems. I think perhaps the curse was invented to discourage looters,” Dwyer said evasively, hoping Anthony would believe him. He did not mention what had happened to Bailey and Green.
“Perhaps you’re right. It’s amazing to find the crown in such perfect condition.” Lawrence reverently placed it back in the satin-lined chest.
Dwyer nodded. “We were very fortunate. It seems that after the crown was sealed in the tomb, about 1200 B.C., it went untouched until I discovered the burial site this past spring.”
He neglected to mention that he hadn’t really been the one to discover it, that he’d only been a laborer who’d stolen it after the deaths of the two men he’d worked for, and that he’d fled the country with it before anyone could catch him.
“Many seek the crown,” Lawrence reflected thoughtfully as he turned his gaze on Dwyer. “Why did you offer it to me?”
“I’d heard you were a discreet and discriminating man.”
“Discretion has always been very important to me,” he told Dwyer as he opened his desk drawer and took out a heavy leather pouch. “You needn’t worry that any word of our meeting will pass beyond this room.”
“I appreciate that.”
The collector tossed him the pouch. “You’ll find a generous bonus in there, along with the agreed-upon fee.”
Dwyer smiled wolfishly as he weighed the value of the pouch in his hand. “If there’s ever anything else I can do for you, sir, you just let me know.”
“I certainly will.” Anthony gently closed the lid on the chest and then escorted the man from the room. “Thank you for coming.”
“Thank
you
,” Dwyer replied in earnest as he departed.
you
,” Dwyer replied in earnest as he departed.
Dwyer was thrilled as he started back toward his hotel. Ever since he’d smuggled the crown from Egypt, he’d been cautious about his activities. Now, though, the weight of that worry was gone. He could relax and enjoy himself.
Dwyer thought briefly again of the curse—it had promised death to those who coveted the crown for greedy purposes. He quickly dismissed it as nonsense, a part of the legend meant to scare fortune-hunters. He had his money and he was still alive. There was no curse.
Dwyer didn’t understand why Anthony or anyone would spend his life searching for long-lost treasures and then, when he found them, keep them only for their history and not for their monetary value. He knew that if it had been up to him, he would have plucked the ruby out of its setting and sold the gem for the fortune it was worth; then he would have melted down the gold and sold that, too. The reward the collector had offered, however, had made it worth his while not to, but he still didn’t understand the person that would merely want to simply possess such a potential fortune.
Never one to ponder anything too deeply, Dwyer shrugged off any other thoughts about it. He’d been very well paid for his efforts. What Anthony now did with the crown was Anthony’s business.
Dwyer’s excitement was so great that he no longer felt the cold and rain as he made his way back to his hotel. His life was going to be perfect. He reached his hotel and went straight to his room, wanting just to sit and count his money and dream of how he was going to spend it. From this moment on, he would never have to take orders from anyone again! He was rich!
He entered the dark hotel room and locked the door behind him. He moved to the bedside table and struck a match to light the lamp.
The blow came out of nowhere, crashing down on his skull. The power was such that he collapsed on the floor. Just as the match he’d struck flickered and went out, so did his life end.
No words were spoken as another set of hands worked to light the lamp. The glow that lit the room revealed two darkly clad men who’d been hiding there, awaiting his return. One of the assailants dropped down beside Dwyer to search his pockets. He found the pouch and snatched it up. He glanced at his silent companion, smiled, and nodded. The light was then extinguished, and they unlocked the door and crept from the room and off into the night . . . unknown and unseen.
As soon as Dwyer had gone, Lawrence hurried back to his study. He instructed the servants that he was not to be disturbed and then went to open the chest again and gaze down at his treasure. Lying on the bed of white satin, the crown glowed vibrant gold in the lamplight, and the huge ruby seemed blood-red. He stared, marveling at its perfection. The prize was as magnificent as the legend had claimed. It had been worth his years of searching, and certainly worth the reward he’d paid.
“You need have no fear, Princess Analika,” he spoke softly to her through the ages. “I will cherish your crown and guard it with my life. No one shall take it from the haven of my protection. It shall remain in my safekeeping as a tribute to your undying love.”
He reverently touched the crown once more, then closed the case. Taking it with him, he went to the fireplace and turned one of the carved lion heads that decorated the mantel. When he did, a heavy dark oak panel at the side of the fireplace slid open to reveal a hidden passageway.
Lawrence quickly stepped inside and lit one of the lamps there before sealing the panel behind him. Taking the lamp with him, he followed the dark, winding corridor. He made his way through the bowels of the mansion to a small chamber at the hall’s end. Besides himself, only his sons and Henry knew of the room’s existence. He did not allow them inside often, but he knew he would have to share the glory of the crown with them. After opening the triple-locked door, he entered the small, windowless room beyond.
The light from the lamp he carried turned the darkness of the chamber into day, for the walls were lined with mirrors. Lawrence glanced around and noted with satisfaction that nothing had been disturbed. This was his private gallery, an almost sacred place where his most prized possessions were kept. He smiled in appreciation at the treasures he had displayed on fluted, alabaster pedestals. Until now, the bejeweled, golden armbands from Cleopatra’s reign and a chalice from the time of Christ had been his most treasured possessions, but now that would all change. Now, he had the Crown of Desire.
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