The Property of a Lady - Elizabeth Adler [47]
Afterward the procession wound its way slowly to the Asiyan Cemetery atop a hill overlooking the Bosphorus, where many years before Tariq had erected a beautiful marble tomb for himself and Han-Su, and where he had often gone to sit with her and watch his ships far below.
As he had promised, Anna shared in his estate, and to Missie’s surprise, the family offered no objection. “Our father told us he was repaying a great debt,” Michael, now the true head of the family and inheritor of the famous sword as well as the business, told her, “and naturally we shall honor that obligation. Besides, we all love Anna. She is one of our family.”
So, after sixty years, Tariq had repaid his debt to the Ivanoffs and seventeen-year-old Anna was one million dollars richer, though of course a great deal of that was in shares in the Kazahn Shipping Line.
But that was long ago, and now, sitting alone in her Paris apartment, Leyla Kazahn wished with all her heart that she had never agreed to help her “sister,” much as she loved her.
Düsseldorf
The flight to Düsseldorf was half empty and Genie sank back into her first-class seat thankfully. It had been a long night; she had had no sleep and the airport had been impossibly crowded. At least now she could be alone with her thoughts, and she was thinking about Valentin Solovsky. Not the Russian diplomat with a weight on his mind, but Valentin the man.
They had talked until five in the morning, sitting by the flickering fire as the storm howled around them, and at the end of it all she still couldn’t recall his revealing a single vital personal detail. Yet there had been that flare of attraction between them. It wasn’t just that he was so handsome. She had known quite a few attractive men in her time and most of them fitted into the genuine egomaniac category, to whom a woman was merely a decorative accessory. No, Valentin was … different. And she had to admit, there was also an exciting flutter of danger. His eyes had admired her, he had paid her subtle compliments, but he certainly had not made a pass at her. And she had had the feeling that he had known what she was thinking before she even knew it herself.
Perhaps it was some new Russian technique to relax the enemy, she thought, closing her eyes and putting on her dark glasses as the plane took off at last. If so, it had certainly worked: With Cal’s plan foremost in her mind, she had told him about her job as a reporter and asked if she could do a “profile” with him in a new series she was thinking of doing for the network.
“Maybe,” he had said with a laugh, “though I hardly think I’m important enough to qualify.”
“Are you kidding?” she’d retorted. “Why, American women would just eat you up.”
“Is that so?” he’d asked with a lazy smile. His deep voice had sent curls of anticipation through her stomach. Quickly remembering her mission, she told him the story of how much she had hated being sent to Geneva. “I thought the sale was trivial and unworthy of my talents as a reporter,” she said, “but now I see I was wrong. I know the truth is going to come out sooner or later, and I want to be the reporter who breaks it to the world. I am an ambitious woman and this scoop would make my career. And besides,” she added, glancing at him under her lashes, “I already know part of that truth—something no one else knows yet.”
She sipped her brandy, waiting apprehensively to see if he would take the bait.
“It is common knowledge that both Russia and America wanted the emerald,” Solovsky said, fixing her with those dark gray eyes that looked as if they knew too many secrets. “But I confess that in this matter I need a little help.”
“What about the KGB?” she asked innocently.
He smiled. “There are times the KGB is of no use,