Cleaver’s brow beaded with sweat as he stared down the muzzle of the revolver. ‘She’s in trouble, right? Something’s happened to her?’
‘You’re asking me that?’
‘I never laid a finger on her,’ Cleaver insisted. Panic was edging into his voice. ‘All I did was get some of my guys to follow her.’
‘All the way to Greece. I know the rest.’
Cleaver frowned. ‘Pardon me?’
‘I’m tired of games.’
‘You said Greece. What’s Greece got to do with anything?’
‘Greece is where you planted the bomb to kill Charlie Palmer,’ Ben said. ‘Where you had your agents murder Nikos Karapiperis and snatch Zoe. Let me tell you something. Kaplan and Hudson are dead.’
There was a look of blank incomprehension on Cleaver’s face.
‘And I saw what your people did to Skid McClusky’s legs,’ Ben added.
Cleaver held up his hands. ‘Hold on. You are making one big mistake here. I never heard of any Kaplan and Hudson, or Charlie Palmer or Nikos whatever. I don’t know anything about Skid McClusky’s legs. The only place I sent my guys was round to Augusta’s to spy on that little brat screwing around.’
Ben hesitated. When you pointed a gun at someone who wasn’t used to it, and you showed you were serious about firing it, what generally came out was the truth. Cleaver had the look of a man who was genuinely frightened and sincerely spilling out his heart to save his life. Yet what he was saying seemed impossible. ‘What are you talking about, Cleaver?’
‘Look, can you just take that gun away,’ Cleaver said. ‘I can’t talk with a goddamn gun in my face.’
Ben uncocked the revolver and lowered it a little.
Cleaver cleared his throat and took a long sip of his bourbon. He paused to wipe the sweat off his brow.
‘Tell me exactly what’s been happening,’ Ben said.
Cleaver gave a deep sigh. ‘You know about the money I’m getting from Augusta. I don’t know how you know, and I won’t ask.’
Ben nodded. ‘Go on.’
‘Augusta has an awful lot of money,’ Cleaver said. ‘She’s a billionaire. Now, she’s a fine Christian lady and she offered me that hundred million out of the kindness of her heart. But she doesn’t just give it away. She can’t. Most of it’s tied up in holdings and trusts and real estate. It isn’t like there’s some bottomless pit of dollar bills that she can dip into whenever she wants.’
‘And so, when Zoe Bradbury turned up again, you were scared she might change her mind.’
‘Damn right I was scared,’ Cleaver said angrily. ‘That girl is the most cunning and manipulative little bitch I’ve ever had the misfortune to know. One minute I’m about to get all this money, the next here’s this spoiled brat from England dropping hints about funding she needs for this project and that dig and that research trip. And here’s Augusta, with no kids of her own, talking about her like she was the daughter she never had, and how special and wonderful she was, and all that crap. You do the math. I really thought I was going to lose out in a big way.’ Cleaver knocked back another slug of bourbon. ‘Then when I finally met the brat, I could see that all she was after was Augusta’s dough. That big talk was all lies. She just wanted it for booze and good times. She’s nothing but a gold-digger.’
‘Takes one to know one,’ Ben said.
Anger flashed in Cleaver’s eyes. ‘What, you think I should have refused Augusta’s generosity? It’s been years since the book came out. All the money’s gone, and a lot more besides. I’m deep in debt. You have no idea what it costs to run an operation like mine – and well, maybe we did overstretch ourselves a little.’
‘It looks like you’ve been selling off the art and furniture,’ Ben said.
‘I have. Things have been awful difficult. Augusta was offering me a lifeline. I had to take it. I’d have been crazy not to.’
‘Cut the crap and tell me what you did.’
‘OK. Whenever she was around Augusta, little Miss Bradbury’d be acting all virtuous. Long skirts, high collar blouses. Just dripping with good ol’ Christian piety, like butter wouldn’t melt. But I knew she was screwing around all over town. I knew what she was getting up to behind Augusta’s back, and right under her roof, with the likes of Skid McClusky. To name just one of her many conquests while she was in Savannah.’
‘Your men told you this?’
Cleaver nodded and mopped more sweat. ‘I had a few guys follow her around. I knew I’d get some dirt on her. And it wasn’t hard to dig up. She was sneaking her fellas into the carriage house. More than one at a time, sometimes.’
Ben guessed where this was leading. ‘So you got your guys to catch it on video. And you used it to turn Miss Vale against her.’
‘Augusta never knew who sent the tape,’ Cleaver said. ‘It was from a well-wisher. She never mentioned it to anyone. But I could tell it soured her. Next time I was there for dinner with her and Zoe, there was this atmosphere. That’s when I knew my plan had worked. The money was mine again for sure.’
‘But then Zoe turned on you,’ Ben said.
‘She guessed I had something to do with the change in Augusta. A while later, when she’d left the US and I thought I’d never hear her name mentioned ever again, I got a call.’
‘I know. Twenty-five grand up front, and ten million later.’
‘Then you know everything,’ Cleaver said. ‘I paid, and I’ll pay more. No problem.’
‘Just like that? Why?’
‘Why do you want to know? I’ve told you the truth. I’m ready to pay her the money. If something’s happened to her, it’s got nothing to do with me. Now, sir, if you don’t mind, I think this conversation is over. I have business to attend to.’ Cleaver started getting to his feet.
‘Stop. You’re not going anywhere.’ Ben raised the gun again.
‘You don’t believe me?’
‘I want the rest. I want to know about the prophecy.’
Cleaver slumped back down in his chair. ‘So that’s why you were so keen to talk prophecies last night.’
‘What was in the box that Skid McClusky delivered to you?’
‘Just a fragment of pottery. Nothing more.’
Ben remembered what Tom Bradbury had told him that day in Summertown about Zoe’s discovery of ancient pottery fragments. ‘I don’t understand,’ he said. ‘Why pay ten million for a piece of pottery?’
‘I can’t tell you,’ Cleaver said.
‘You’re not leaving here unless you do.’ Ben cocked the gun. ‘And you’d better believe it. So talk.’
‘I had it carbon dated,’ Cleaver replied wearily. ‘It was the right age.’
‘The right age for what?’
Cleaver looked up at him abruptly. ‘The right age to have been around when the Book of Revelation was written.’
Ben stared and blinked. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘She let me see one tiny piece,’ Cleaver said. ‘She still has the rest of it.’
‘The rest of what?’
‘The rest of the evidence. She says that she found a collection of pottery tablets engraved in Ancient Greek, going back to biblical times. She says they prove beyond any doubt that St John wasn’t the author of Revelation.’
‘And?’
‘And that’s it. That’s all I know about them. She didn’t give me a lot to go on. But I have to believe she means what she says, and that it’s true. I can’t afford not to.’
‘You don’t sound very sure of your ground,’ Ben said.
‘All right. All right. I’ll level with you. You’ve seen my book. You know what it’s about.’
‘That John the Apostle spoke to you.’
Cleaver nodded and made a face.
Ben smiled. ‘You’re trying to tell me that John didn’t really speak to you.’
‘No, of course he didn’t,’ Cleaver muttered. ‘How the hell could he? He’s been dead for nearly two thousand
