The Property of a Lady - Elizabeth Adler [3]
Washington
There were half a dozen men at the confidential meeting in the White House: The President himself, his secretary of state, the secretary of defense, the representative of the Arms Control and Disarmament Agency, the head of the CIA, and the representative of the National Security Council. Copies of the Christie’s catalog lay on the oval table in front of them. The President glanced at his secretary of state as they listened carefully to Cal Warrender, a bright, rugged-looking man of thirty-eight and already a power in the National Security Council. Cal trod the delicate path between the White House and the State Department and was well thought of by both. He was considered one of Washington’s up-and-coming young men.
Cal was saying that he had been to Christie’s in Geneva in the guise of a potential buyer and had taken along an expert from Cartier. He had inspected the emerald and was sure it was part of the Ivanoff treasure.
“Emeralds are notoriously fragile,” Cal said, “and to attempt to cut a stone like the Ivanoff emerald was a great risk. They could have ended up with a million shards of worthless green glass. It was cut by a master, and we know there are only three in the world skilled—and confident—enough to do the job. One in Amsterdam, one in Israel, and one in Bangkok. I believe that if you trace that gem cutter, you will find your mysterious seller, the anonymous ‘Lady.’”
He handed the President a reproduction of a faded sepia photograph taken in 1909 in St. Petersburg, Russia, pointing out the diamond court tiara centered with the great emerald, telling him that the unsmiling woman wearing the tiara was the beautiful Princess Anouska Ivanoff on the occasion of her wedding.
“The fact remains,” the President said crisply, “that whoever the anonymous woman selling the jewel really is, she holds the answer to an issue we have been trying to resolve for over seventy years. And if Russia finds her first, the balance of world power will tilt sharply in their direction. The race is on, gentlemen. Whatever it takes, wherever it leads you … find that ‘Lady.’”
Düsseldorf
A tall, gaunt, blond-haired man paced the floor of his luxurious office at the Arnhaldt Group of Companies, whose worldwide trade encompassed iron, steel, armaments, mining, and construction. The Arnhaldts had supplied armaments to every war since Napoleon’s time, always reemerging, regardless of who won or lost, with even greater wealth and power. Among the world’s leading corporations, they were a powerhouse.
Ferdie Arnhaldt stopped his pacing and stared out of the window of his solidly grand office, but he didn’t see the traffic snarled thirty storeys below. His mind was on the catalog on his desk, open at page fifteen. He knew that the possessor of that emerald threatened the security and stability of the Arnhaldt empire. And he also knew that if he found “the Lady,” his company would be the richest and most powerful in the world. It was all—or nothing. He must find her and deal with her, before the other interested parties got there first.
Geneva
Genie Reese paced the Hotel Richemond’s front steps moodily. She was twenty-eight years old, blond, and what her mother had once termed laughingly “almost gorgeous. If only your nose were a little smaller,” she used to tease, “and your hair three shades blonder, you would be a movie star.” Of course her mother had only been laughing and vivacious on her good days; most of the time she didn’t speak to Genie at all. Her mother had died some years ago, but Genie thought maybe now she would have been pleased with the way she had turned out.
As she had grown up, somehow her features had placed themselves in the right proportions: Her pretty nose no longer looked too big for her delicate face and, thanks to the magician at the hairdressing salon, her hair was now the required three shades lighter. She was tall with great legs and she had “style.” But she wasn’t the movie star of her mother’s dreams; instead Genie was a reporter on American network television.
She usually covered