Silhouette in Scarlet - Elizabeth Peters [46]
‘What about your brother?’
‘You don’t give up, do you?’ Leif said admiringly.
‘I can’t imagine him swimming.’
‘No.’ Leif’s face lengthened. ‘I did not ask how he came. Possibly he hired someone to bring him across. What is the use of this, Vicky? There is no boat we can use.’
‘I have to agree with that.’ Hands in my pockets, I went out onto the dock. Leif followed.
‘I believe your fears are needless,’ he said. ‘The man, Max, means you no harm. Let him have his gold. What value does it have?’
‘I don’t give a damn about the treasure,’ I said, not quite truthfully. ‘But I’m not stupid enough to trust Max’s word. Besides, I can’t turn my back on deliberate, cold-blooded murder.’
‘Smythe deserves it,’ Leif said.
I turned away. He grabbed my wrist and spun me around to face him. His eyes glittered like topaz.
‘You think I am cruel, like those criminals? No, no. When you hear you will understand why I do not risk my life, or yours, to save such vermin.’
I knew I had to hear it sooner or later, and I despised myself for being so reluctant to learn the truth. ‘All right, all right,’ I said resignedly. ‘Let’s go up and sit in the garden. If I have to listen to a rotten story, I might as well have something pretty to look at.’
It was as rotten a story as I could have imagined. Even the scent of the flowers didn’t lessen the sickness that mounted as I heard what Leif had to say.
‘He is only twenty-six. You would not think it to see him, would you? Even as a child he was brilliant, a genius. He won his doctorate from your Harvard University and was appointed to the dig at Tiryns in Greece. You read, perhaps, of the discovery of the royal tombs?’
Naturally I had; it had been the archaeological sensation of the year. So that was why Georg Hasseltine’s name was familiar to me.
‘It could have been the making of his career,’ Leif said somberly. ‘Instead it was the end of him. By accident the director discovered that one of the treasures – a golden mask, like the ones found at Mycenae – was a clever fake. Georg had stolen and sold the original. You can guess to whom he sold it.’
Even if I had not known, I would have recognized John’s fine Italian hand. He didn’t go in for blatant breaking and entering. Half the museums in Europe owned fraudulent pieces, left by John in place of the originals he had made off with. I don’t know what perverse instinct made me try to defend him.
‘Your brother could have refused his offer,’ I said.
‘He was only a boy! And there was a woman – someone Smythe had supplied, I do not doubt, along with the deadly white powder to which Georg is now a slave . . . You know the man’s power over the innocent. He ruined Georg. There was no scandal – universities do not love publicity – but the word was passed. No one would employ him. In despair he turned to petty crime. Whenever I found him and tried to help, he eluded me. And always he has searched for Smythe, to take revenge. I followed him across half the world. Not to help him kill, as you think – no. I would not weep to see that man destroyed, but I could not let my brother commit murder.’
I patted his arm sympathetically. Georg was a weak fool, who had traded an honourable career for quick profit, but that didn’t excuse what John had done.
‘And now he has fallen again.’ With a groan Leif buried his head in his hands. ‘Helping these criminals to rob . . .’
‘Maybe he’s only pretending to cooperate – gaining Max’s confidence in order to double-cross him.’
The phrase was not well chosen. Leif shook his heed desparingly. ‘I wish I could believe it. But I dare not. Do not trust him, Vicky. Tell him nothing of your plans.’
I was relieved I hadn’t had to make that point myself. ‘I won’t, Leif.’
‘You have plans?’ He studied me keenly, then smiled. ‘Yes, you do. You are stubborn. You don’t give in. What is a man to do with such a woman?’
‘Just don’t get in my way, Leif.’
‘I would be afraid!’ His eyes widened in pretended terror.
I had to admire his resilience from tragedy