Eye of the God (18 page)

“Impossible. They'd never go for it.”

He shrugged.

“You're really serious, aren't you?” she asked.

“Why not?”

“You're insane.”

“Hey, just a minute ago you called me brilliant.”

“It's a fine line, and I think you just teetered over the edge.”

“But it was a good idea, wasn't it?”

“No,” she retorted stubbornly. “It was a
great
idea, and I can't do anything about it.”

He took their plates to the kitchen and rinsed them off in the sink. “Don't worry. You can just continue with your boring little party and you'll raise a decent amount of money. Everyone will be reasonably satisfied, and the event will go down as just another thing they attended once. Your career will survive, quite nicely I'm sure.”

Abby groaned. “Well, when you say it like
that
—”

Alex returned from the kitchen with two movies in hand. “Your pick.
Rambo
or
Marie Antoinette
?”

She laughed. “How could I possibly choose between such classics?”

He held up
Rambo
in one hand. “Lots of stuff gets blown up in this one.”

“Let's go with that.”

“
But
,” he said, waving
Marie Antoinette
in her face, “If we watch this one you can teach me something.”

“How so?”

He tapped her lightly on the forehead with a finger. “Well, Miss Historian, I believe that Marie Antoinette was married to Louis XVI, and it's my understanding that he once owned the Hope Diamond. I mean you're cute and all, but I still have to write that article you know.”

“I guess it's settled.
Marie Antoinette
it is. And to think, I was so looking forward to watching
Rambo
.”

“One more thing. You have to take off those socks, or I can't take you seriously.”

Abby settled in and stretched her arms out on the back of the couch. An impish grin stretched across her face. “We don't know each other well enough to start taking our clothes off.”

He gave her a mischievous sideways glance. “Will that start happening in three days?”

“Don't count on it.”

Alex rose from the couch and popped in the DVD. After flipping off the lights he rejoined her on the couch. They spent the next 120 minutes deeply engrossed in the bizarre lives of King Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette.

After sitting through the entire movie, credits and all, Alex reluctantly rose to go. He led her to the door with fingers lightly entwined.

“Hey.” Abby looked up at him, brown eyes curious. “I was wondering something.”

“What would that be?”

“Would you be interested in being my date for the big event? I'll be working, but I'd really like you to be there. Who knows, you might even learn something.”

Alex wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close. He buried his face in her neck, inhaling the sweet scent of shampoo and floral lotion. “I'd be honored,” he whispered.

Abby tilted her head back and looked at him. “So how is this possible?”

“What?

“
This.
Last I checked all you wanted was an interview, and now every time I turn around you're kissing me.”

“Life is full of surprises,” he said with a shrug, avoiding eye contact.

“Apparently so.”

“Can I call you tomorrow?”

“Please.”

His lips met hers with the lightest touch, giving the barest impression of a kiss. She pressed in deeper, but he pulled back and whispered, “Three days.”

“
Three days?”
she groaned.

“Three days.” He stepped out the door, and she closed it behind him, watching him through the peephole as he disappeared down the hall. Abby Mitchell bathed her apartment in a very satisfied grin.

Abby stood at her front door for some time, cheek pressed against the wood, deep in thought. She shook her head and laughed, not believing he had actually seen her ghastly socks. She wrenched herself away from the door and yawned. For a moment she pondered the comfort of
her warm bed but then went to the kitchen and pulled cleaning supplies from under the sink.

He wants me to wear the diamond
, she thought, first cleaning the dishes in her sink and then scouting her apartment for dirty surfaces. She chewed on her bottom lip, pondering the idea and what it meant.

Two hours later, once her mind was fuzzy and her fingers pruned, she brushed her teeth and crawled between the Egyptian cotton sheets. As Abby slipped into the world of sleep, a dog began to bark in the darkness outside her apartment, the harbinger of uneasy dreams.

12

MESHERA FOREST, RUSSIA, FEBRUARY, 1689

J
EAN-BAPTISTE TAVERNIER STRUGGLED THROUGH THE DEEP UNDERGROWTH
of the towering pine trees, encumbered by his weight and the heavy Oriental robes. His breathing was labored; he was unaccustomed to such physical exertion. The hands that usually sold crown jewels were ripped and bleeding from deep cuts. He stumbled again and fell face first into musty pine needles.

“
Forêt stupide!
” he cursed, pulling himself to his feet. He paused for a second, a stitch burning in his side.

Then he heard the barking again, and the beads of sweat on his forehead turned cold.

The dogs. They were closer now. Much closer.

Tavernier bolted, and in his fright lost all sense of direction. He could not tell if he was running from the dogs or toward them. He scrambled desperately over fallen logs and under low-hanging branches. The wild animals were but a few paces behind him now, growling, barking, hungry.

He desperately scanned the trees, looking for one to climb. But with his eyes off the ground, he tripped again, this time crashing to the forest floor and knocking the
breath from his lungs. The blood rushed through his head, pounding against his eardrums. He could hear the dogs behind him, tearing at the forest floor as they ran.

Tavernier turned, and as he did, saw the first of seven dogs leap through the air. Finally, able to draw a breath, all he could do was scream. Instinctively, he covered his face with his hands as they descended upon him.

13

A
BBY WOKE WITH A START, SCREAMS STILL ECHOING IN HER MIND AS
the dream of Tavernier faded. The clock on her night-stand read 5:00, so she slid out of bed and shuffled to her shower. She turned the water on full blast, as hot as she could stand it. It stung her skin like searing needles and chased away the remainder of a troubled night's sleep. When she stepped out of the shower her skin was beet red and her bathroom filled with steam.

Abby rejected her usual slacks and sweater in favor of a black pencil skirt and fitted white blouse. The three-inch black stilettos added just the right amount of sex appeal without overdoing it. She kept an eye on the clock as she dressed, paying special attention to her hair and makeup.

A long day of work loomed before her, and she still needed to go by Dow and DeDe's apartment. Abby took a step back from the mirror, eyeing her handiwork.

If this doesn't get their attention, nothing will.

Isaac ran still shots of Abby's face through Identix, the facial recognition software used by the U.S. government and Interpol to track criminals. The 3D analysis captured distinctive features on the surface of a face that most programs missed, such as eye-socket depth and the contour of the nose and chin. However, Isaac's concern was not whether she had a criminal background but rather her fascination with the Hope Diamond. He saw something in Abby's face during his initial reconnaissance that troubled him. It was something he recognized immediately: obsession. She looked at the diamond like a jealous woman watching her lover seduce a stranger.

He slid the flash drive into his computer and typed in a date, scanning through the footage until the approximate time that Abby arrived at the Hope display. It was only a matter of seconds before he found an image of Abby, with all the needed recognition points. Isaac froze the frame and copied it to Identix. He then added the complete section of video and had the program check her face against the full length of tape. The computer hummed beneath the desk, occasionally offering faint clicking sounds as it checked her face. A few seconds later, the program beeped and a number appeared on the screen before Isaac.

“No way,” he murmured.

Over the last two years, Abby Mitchell had gone to see the diamond nearly six hundred times.

Isaac had felt a deep, lingering suspicion about Abby from the moment that Alex recognized her from the heist in Rio. It was only now that his suspicion turned to fear. Isaac Weld was not a man accustomed to that emotion.

DeDe answered on the first buzz, and Abby made her way into the building and rode up in the rickety elevator to their apartment. When the door swung open, DeDe did not give her the usual hug, but instead stood in the doorway with her brow furrowed and lips pursed.

“Good morning to you too,” Abby said, somewhat disconcerted.

DeDe smiled and pulled her into a hug.

“Is something wrong?” Abby asked.

“Why don't you tell me?”

“What do you mean?”

“I can see it on your face.”

“See what?”

“I'm not sure.”

Abby shook her head. “I don't follow DeDe, what are you saying?”

The older woman offered the charming smile that Abby had grown to love, the corners of her eyes crinkling like paper, and led her to the small living room. Dede's curly salt-and-pepper hair was swept back into a French twist, and she wore a black knit dress, silhouetting a figure much slimmer than one would expect for her age.

“Let me guess. The journalist?” DeDe asked. “Is it the same man from the interview?”

Abby nodded. “Alex Weld.”

Dow sorted newspapers at his usual spot by the window. At this announcement he rose and joined them in the living room, deeply interested in the conversation.

“So it's official then?” Dow asked.

Abby chewed on her bottom lip. “Well,” she finally answered. “I don't know if you would call it
dating
. We haven't exactly known each other very long. But we have been spending time together.”

“Romantic time?” DeDe tried to hide the glimmer of a smile.

“Yes,” Abby laughed. “I would definitely call it romantic.”

“Good,” Dow and DeDe said in unison.

“Good?” she asked.

“Yes, good,” DeDe said, breaking into a full smile.

“Yes, I suppose it is.”

Dow clapped his hands, startling both women. “Now, do tell how things are going with that little event you're in charge of?”

“That's actually why I'm here.” Abby turned to DeDe with an imploring look. “I was hoping I could borrow your diamond stud earrings.”

DeDe raised her eyebrows. “My earrings?”

“I know Dow gave them to you, and I wouldn't normally ask for something like that, but I'd like to wear them Saturday night.”

“Is it really that soon?” Dow asked.

“Unfortunately, yes. I'm running out of time to get everything ready.”

DeDe offered her a gentle pat on the back. “Oh, I've no doubt you'll get it all done.”

“That's just it. I think the plan may change.”

Dow's blue eyes narrowed. “What do you mean the plan may change?”