Sleight of Hand: A Novel of Suspense (Dana Cutler) (24 page)

BOOK: Sleight of Hand: A Novel of Suspense (Dana Cutler)
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Chapter Fifty-Nine

Horace Blair sat in his breakfast nook and looked out at his garden. He had been out of jail for a week and today would be his first day in the office. Everything had happened very quickly after Benedict was fired. Soon after, Jack Pratt and Bobby Schatz had come to his cell with Rick Hamada to tell him that Charles Benedict was under arrest, and that he was a free man. He had left the jail in a daze, not really believing that his ordeal was finally over.

Horace wanted to thank Dana Cutler, but he had not seen her since Pratt brought the private investigator to the jail. She had made it clear during her visit that she was acting for Carrie and did not want to be paid. But he would figure out a way to let her know how much he appreciated what she had done for him.

Blair’s ordeal had taken a lot out of him. Anger had kept him going much of the time while he’d been locked up, but he felt as if he had only a limited supply of energy, and fighting for his freedom had drained most of the tank. When he took a bite out of his croissant it tasted like cardboard. He set it down half-eaten. He had no appetite. When he woke up at five he had thought about swimming, but he didn’t have the energy for it so he’d stayed in bed for another hour. He’d given his newspapers a cursory read, but he couldn’t concentrate. The garden, which usually gave him joy, now left him cold.

An image of Carrie invaded his thoughts and suddenly he was choking up. He had not loved Carrie for some time, but he had always cared for her. It made him sad to think that she had died young and in such a terrible way. He could not imagine how she felt when Charles Benedict snuffed out the vibrant flame that animated her, and he prayed that her death had been mercifully swift and free of suffering.

Horace’s eyes filled with tears. He could not remember the last time he had cried. Was he crying for Carrie or himself? Maybe he was crying for both. He was one of the most powerful men in America but he did not feel powerful. He felt old, empty, and alone, and he had no one with whom he could share these feelings.

“Your car is ready,” Walter said.

Horace took a deep breath and nodded, too sad to speak. Walter left and Horace pressed a napkin to his eyes to dry his tears. He had an important meeting in one hour and he could not afford to show weakness, but he did feel weak, and he had no enthusiasm for battle.

Horace levered himself to his feet. He closed his eyes and regrouped emotionally. He was free. He had won. But he didn’t feel like a victor. He felt like a tired old man.

Chapter Sixty

Dana Cutler was in a terrific mood when she left the office of the attorney who had hired her to help clear the Baltimore Ravens running back. The charges were being dismissed, thanks to the testimony of witnesses she had found, and the client had given her season tickets to show his appreciation.

Dana had a big smile on her face when she slid behind the wheel of her car. She was about to start the ignition when her phone rang.

“Dana Cutler,” she answered.

“Miss Cutler, my name is Earl Chan and I am in need of your services.”

“What would you like me to do for you, Mr. Chan?”

“I feel uncomfortable discussing the matter over the phone. It’s quite complicated. Would you join me for dinner at Venezia at eight tonight?”

Dana was intrigued. Venezia was way out of her price range, so she had never dined there; and she didn’t have any plans for the evening because Jake was in New York, talking to the owner of another gallery that was interested in showing his pictures from the Arctic expedition.

“I’ll be there,” she said. Mr. Chan thanked her and hung up.

 

Michelangelo’s was the fanciest Italian restaurant Dana had ever eaten in; for Dana, the words “Italian food” usually brought to mind pizza and meatballs and spaghetti. As the maître d’ at Venezia led her to Mr. Chan’s table, she didn’t spot a single pizza or meatball, and she didn’t recognize a single dish. The only familiar sight was the red wine she saw on many of the tables.

Mr. Chan stood up as soon as Dana arrived. He was a dapper, middle-aged Chinese man with straight black hair and almond eyes. Dana guessed that his suit was hand tailored, and he sported several bejeweled rings and a Rolex watch.

“Thank you so much for coming,” Chan said. His accent was British and she wondered where he’d been educated.

Dana sat down and was presented with a menu. As soon as they ordered, Dana asked, “How can I help you?”

“I am a curator of the Asian Art Museum in Seattle, and the museum would like to enlist your services.”

“Oh?”

“How much do you know about the Han dynasty?”

Warning bells went off, but Dana remained calm.

“All I know is that it’s Chinese.”

Chan nodded. “Correct. The Han dynasty was the second imperial dynasty of China, and it was founded in 206 B.C. by the rebel leader Liu Bang, who was known posthumously as Emperor Gaozu of Han. To the north of China proper, the
nomadic
Xiognu chieftain Modu Chanyu conquered various tribes inhabiting the eastern portion of the European steppe. By the end of his reign, he controlled Manchuria, Mongolia, and the Tarim Basin, subjugating over twenty states east of
Samarkand
.

“Emperor Gaozu was troubled by the Han-manufactured iron weapons that were traded to the Xiognu, and he placed an embargo on the sale or trade of these weapons. The Xiognu was still able to find traders willing to supply the weapons. In 121 B.C. the emperor ordered the execution of five hundred of these merchants, and Chinese forces attacked representatives of the Xiognu who traded for the weapons. In retaliation, the Xiognu invaded Shanxi province and defeated the Han forces. After negotiations, the matter was settled with a royal marriage alliance, but the Han were forced to send large amounts of tribute items such as silk clothes, food, and wine to the Xiognu. The rarest item was a jade dragon of incalculable wealth.

“The Xiognu kept meticulous records and the jade dragon is prominent in them until 14 B.C., when all mention of it ended. Over the years there have been repeated sightings of the treasure but they’ve all been debunked, until now.

“Early this month we were approached by an Indonesian businessman who has fallen on hard times . . .”

Dana started to laugh. Chan looked puzzled.

“Don’t tell me you want me to fly to Indonesia to see if the treasure is real.”

“Why, yes.”

Dana smiled and shook her head. “Who put you up to this, Mr. Chan—if that is your name?”

“Well, I . . .”

“Its okay, Larry.”

Dana turned around and saw Jake Teeny walking toward her. A big smile was pasted on his face.

“Ten minutes. Not bad. I thought he’d keep you going for a little more. Dana, meet Larry Winston, a reporter for the
Washington Post
. Larry, this is the very clever Dana Cutler.”

Winston broke into a grin. “My pleasure.”

“You are such an ass,” Dana told Jake.

“Now, hold on. I’m not the only one you should be cursing. Horace Blair is paying for our meal, and Bobby Schatz got us the reservation. I’m just responsible for the entertainment.”

“You’re still a jackass,” Dana said, but she was smiling.

Winston stood up. “Jake is a jackass, but I agreed to help him for the chance to meet the woman who earned that rag
Exposed
two Pulitzers. I’ll leave you lovebirds. It’s been a pleasure, Dana.”

Jake took the seat Winston had vacated.

“Were you really in New York today?” she asked.

“That was another subterfuge. But the meal you are about to eat is the real deal, and it has been specially prepared at Bobby’s direction by the chef. So enjoy. You deserve it.”

Acknowledgments

I always need the advice of experts to make my books seem real. Once again, Medical Examiner Karen Gunson and forensic expert Brian Ostrom rode to the rescue by advising me on how to kill people and commit crimes. I also want to thank Dr. Mary Meyer, Commonwealth Attorney Brandon Shapiro, fellow writer Bob Dugoni, Peter Jarvis, Ami and Andy Rome, Jay Margulies, Robin Haggard, and Carolyn Lindsey for their help in researching and writing
Sleight of Hand
.

Readers see a polished final draft. My editors help whip my raw and inadequate first drafts into shape. If you like this book, a lot of the credit has to go to my intrepid editors, Claire Wachtel and Caroline Upcher, and copy editor Ed Cohen. Thanks also to Elizabeth Perrella, my super publicist, Heather Drucker, Jonathan Burnham, Michael Morrison, and the art department and sales force at HarperCollins.

Thanks also to Jean Naggar, Jennifer Weltz, and everyone else at the Jean V. Naggar Literary Agency. You are the best.

This book is dedicated to the people who have made Chess for Success one of the most effective educational programs in the country. If you want to learn more about Chess for Success, go to www.chessforsuccess.org.

And last, but never least, thank you, Doreen. You continue to inspire me to do my best.

About the Author

Phillip Margolin has written sixteen
New York Times
bestsellers, including his latest novels
Capitol Murder
and
Supreme Justice
. Each displays a unique, compelling insider’s view of criminal behavior, which comes from his long career as a criminal defense attorney who has handled thirty murder cases. Winner of the Distinguished Northwest Writer Award, Margolin lives in Portland, Oregon.

 

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www.AuthorTracker.com
for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins authors.

Also by Phillip Margolin

Lost Lake

Sleeping Beauty

The Associate

The Undertaker’s Widow

The Burning Man

After Dark

Gone, but Not Forgotten

The Last Innocent Man

Heartstone

W
ASHINGTON
T
RILOGY

Executive Privilege

Supreme Justice

Capitol Murder

A
MANDA
J
AFFE
N
OVELS

Wild Justice

Ties That Bind

Proof Positive

Fugitive

Credits

Cover design by Jarrod Taylor

Copyright

SLEIGHT OF HAND.
Copyright © 2013 by Phillip Margolin. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

FIRST EDITION

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data has been applied for.

ISBN: 978-0-06-206991-7 (Hardcover)

EPUB Edition April 2013 ISBN 9780062069924

13 14 15 16 17   
OV/RRD
   10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

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