again.
“Something occurred to me late this afternoon, Peter,” Alex said. She spoke over the efficient hum of the air- conditioning in the Jaguar.
“What’s that?” he asked.
“We’re looking for this Pieta of Malta, or looking for the reasons someone stole it. I was thinking about how we started referring to it as the ‘black bird.’ Like in the movie.”
“Yes,” he said. “So?”
“Well,” Alex continued, “it occurs to me that, in the movie, everyone’s chasing the bird all over the place. But in the end, the bird they’re looking for is a fake. It doesn’t exist. Or at least the real one never appears.”
Chang frowned. “What are you suggesting?” he asked.
“Maybe
“Oh, it’s out there,” he said.
“How do you know?”
“Three people dead in Switzerland. Another two in Madrid. And that’s just what we know about.”
“You’ve actually seen it?” she pressed.
“I know that it exists,” he said.
“But have you actually
“I’m certain that it exists,” he said. “It’s out there somewhere. The black bird.
“What happens with stolen art is that it never gets recovered,” she said.
“This case is going to be different.” For a moment he drove silently, obviously thinking. “Well, okay, there’s another theory too,” he said. “No one will ever find The Pieta of Malta. Or at least not in our lifetimes. You know as well as I do that sometimes stolen art disappears forever. And you know what else? Sometimes the thieves get scared. They fail to move it, and they don’t want to get caught with it. So they destroy it.”
Alex folded her arms and gave the impression, accurately, of being ill at ease with his explanations and the direction of their dialogue.
“We have no choice but to move forward,” he continued. “Even if we don’t find the pieta, it’s our task to follow the trail of money. What conspiracies were put in motion by this?
“True enough,” she said.
“And now I’ll offer you something that you will like,” he said. “It’s an offer, not an obligation. So you’re free to decline it.”
“I’m listening.”
“Two of my peers have arrived in Madrid from China,” he said. “I’m joining them for dinner. Will you come along and meet them?”
“Where would we be meeting?” Alex asked.
“I know a little tavern,” he said. “It’s very Spanish. A little touristy maybe, but not far from your hotel. There’s nice food and good drinks. Late in the evening they have live music.”
“Who are your peers?” she asked.
“They work with me. They’re friends as well as coworkers.”
“From China?”
“Yes. From Shanghai. I think you’ll like them.”
“What line of work exactly?” she asked.
He smiled. “Same as you and me. Dirty stuff for our respective governments.”
“Ah,” she answered. She thought about it. “All right,” she said. “I’m interested.”
“What time do you have to leave tomorrow for Geneva?” he asked.
“Evening,” she said. “Late. I’m taking an overnight train. What about you? Are you flying or driving?” she asked.
“I’m going to fly.”
“I envy you. How do you move your gun from country to country?”
“I don’t,” he said. “I stash it here and get another one in Switzerland.”
“Of course,” she said. “I might have known.”
She watched the roadside sail by. There was a light rain falling now, and Peter was doing about eighty. She might have objected but didn’t. He seemed completely in control.
“Here’s the drill in Geneva,” she finally explained. “I check in at the Grand Hotel de Roubaix. I don’t know where it is, but I’ll find it on the map. The next day I’ll go to a cafe on the rue Seve. It’s called Chez Ascender. It’s run by a Hungarian who’s a friend of Federov’s. That’s where I’ll ask for Koller. You know the rest of the drill because I told you.”
“Yes. I understand it,” he said.
“My guess is that you should try to meet me in the hotel bar. Let’s say six p.m. the second day I’m there. Keep an eye open over your shoulder and I’ll do the same. We don’t want to advertise that we’re together.”
“Okay,” he said steadily. “That makes sense.”
“This dinner tonight with your friends. What time?”
“Ten p.m. The place is called Tavern de Carmencita. The staff of your hotel will know it. Or should I pick you up?”
“I’ll walk,” she said. “And I’ll be intrigued to meet your peers.”
“They’re more than peers. They’re friends.”
“I’ll meet them anyway.”
“They will have women with them,” Peter warned.
“So?”
“Hired women.”
She laughed. So did he. “
“Without a doubt. My government pays very well.”
“Then I wouldn’t want to miss it.”
FORTY-FIVE
MADRID, SEPTEMBER 11, 10:00 P.M.
By 10:00, Alex was sitting down to dinner at Carmencita’s on the Calle de Liberdad. The menu was more Basque than Spanish, but old bullfighting posters, photographs, and memorabilia adorned the walls, presumably to keep the tourists happy.
Peter had offered her an arm as they went through the door. She hesitated at first, then took it and liked the feel of it. His arm was like iron under his suit jacket.
Peter’s two peers were there already when Alex arrived. The first was introduced as David Wong. The given name of the other, a slightly taller and stockier man, was Charles Ming. They were both in their early thirties, handsome, endlessly masculine, and very fit. They stood, shook Alex’s hand when introduced, and gave her a polite bow. Each was accompanied by a drop-dead gorgeous girl. David had a sultry blonde with an easy smile. Her name was Sabrina, and she looked as if she were Russian or Polish.
Ming had with him a leggy brunette in a minidress. She was French, even though she gave her name as Holly. Everyone smoked except Alex. In Madrid, smokers had not yet been exiled to the streets. Ming and Wong and their companions were already into a second round of drinks when Peter and Alex settled into their table.
Alex did a quick scan. She couldn’t tell if either of the men were carrying weapons, but she assumed they were. Both of the girls gave Alex a welcoming smile. Then it came out that Charles and David worked
