They are worth in the region of five million US dollars each. My guess
is that they were stolen from the saintly ruler of modern Mesopotamia,
Saddam Hussein, by two unprincipled rogues. I hear that the other one of
the pair is at present in the collection of a certain Mr Peter Walsh in
Texas.'
He stared at her in astonishment, and then burst out laughing. 'Damn it!
I swore'Duraid to secrecy but he must have told you about our naughty
little escapade.' It was the first time she had heard him laugh. It
seemed to come naturally to his lips and she -liked the sound of it,
hearty and unaffected.
'You are right about the present owner of the second frieze,' he told
her, still laughing. 'But the price was six million, not five.'
'Duraid also told me about your visit to the Tibesti Massif in Chad and
southern Libya,' she remarked, and he shook his head in mock contrition.
'it seems I have no secrets from you.' He went to a tall armoire against
the opposite wall. It was a magnificent piece of marquetry furniture,
probably seventeenth-century French. He opened the double doors and
said, 'This is what Duraid and I brought back from Libya, without the
consent of Colonel Muammar al Gadaffi.'He took down one of the exquisite
little bronzes and handed it to her. It was the figure of a mother
nursing her infant, and it had a green patina of age.
'Hannibal, son of Hamilcar Barca,' he said, 'about 203 BC. These were
found by a band of Tuareg at one of his old camps on the Bagradas river
in North Africa.
Hannibal must have cached them there before his defeat by the Roman
general Scipio. There were over two hundred bronzes in the hoard, and I
still have fifty of the best of them.'
'You sold the rest of them?' she asked, as she admired the statuette.
There was disapproval in her tone as she went on, 'How could you bear to
part with something so beautiful?'
He sighed unhappily, 'Had to, I am afraid. Very sad, but the expedition
to retrieve them cost me a fortune. Had to cover expenses by selling
some of the booty.'
He went to his desk and brought out a bottle of Laphroaig malt whisky
from the bottom drawer. He placed the bottle on the desk top and set two
glasses beside it.
'Can I tempt you?' he asked, but she shook her head.
'Don't blame you. Even the Scots themselves admit that this brew should
only be drunk in sub-zeiro weather on The Hill, in a forty-knot gale,
after stalking and shooting a ten-point stag. May I offer you something
a little more ladylike?'
Do you have a Coke?' she suggested.
Yes, but that is really bad for you, even worse than Laphroaig. It's all
that sugar. Absolute poison.'
She took the glass he brought to her and returned his toast with it.
'To life!' she agreed, and then she went on, 'You are right. Duraid did
tell me about these.' She replaced the Punic bronze in the armoire, then
came to face him at the desk. 'It was also Duraid who sent me to see
you. It was his dying instruction to me.'
