The Property of a Lady - Elizabeth Adler [80]
Genie stared at him, amazed. She hadn’t expected such intimate revelations, especially not at this early stage.
“I learned everything I know from her,” Arnhaldt said quietly. “She became my mother and father, my business adviser, and my judge.”
“Judge?”
He shrugged dismissively and changed the subject. “Did you come to Europe specially to see me, Miss Reese? Or did you have other business to attend to?”
Genie blushed. He had cleverly caught her off guard. “I … yes, actually. I came over to cover a jewelry sale. The one in Geneva with all the silly rumors about the Russian family. The Ivanoffs.”
He smiled deprecatingly. “Surely no one believes that old tale.”
“As a matter of fact, they do. And speculation has it, Baron, that you yourself might have been the buyer of the emerald.”
She held her breath as Arnhaldt stood up and walked back behind his desk. He sank into the worn leather chair and placed his hands on the desk in front of him. His pale-blue eyes had turned to chipped ice as he stared at her and said, “Is this the real reason for your coming here today? To ask ridiculous questions about matters that do not even interest me?”
Genie shook her head and said quickly, “But you see, that is exactly the puzzle, Baron. I mean, why should you buy the emerald? It just doesn’t make any sense. Unless, of course, you are a collector of rare gems?”
“I have no interest in emeralds, Miss Reese,” he said harshly, “nor in diamonds, or rubies. My business is steel.”
He pressed a button to summon the butler, then walked to the door and held it open.
Genie bit her lip angrily. The interview was at an end; she had blown it. Yet it was odd that he was so angry. Unless he really had bought the emerald and was angry at being found out
As she stood up, she glanced curiously at his desk. Baron Arnhaldt was a doodler and his telephone pad was covered with all kinds of little drawings. She could swear that he had sketched the Ivanoff emerald and the tiara. Dropping her purse deliberately on the floor, she then knelt to pick it up and snatch a closer look. It was the tiara, all right, if only she could get her hands on it. From the corner of her eye she caught Arnhaldt’s impatient glance and knew there was no chance. After picking up her purse, she walked regretfully to the door. “I’m sorry if I upset you, Baron,” she said quietly. “It was only a stupid rumor. It really had nothing to do with my project. It was just that you asked why I was in Europe.”
He nodded abruptly, holding out his hand. It felt as cold as his eyes as he said, “Good-bye, Miss Reese.”
She was halfway down the corridor when she heard him calling her name. She turned, surprised. “Miss Reese,” he said, “I’ll let you know about the interview. It might be interesting after all.”
She thought about it on the twenty-mile drive back to Düsseldorf, wondering what he had meant. Did he really want to do the interview? And did the sketch mean he really had bought the emerald? But Arnhaldt was an enigma, and whatever he had done, he wasn’t telling. He’d surely been angry when she had asked. But she knew anger was not good enough proof for Valentin Solovsky; she would have to go into phase two of their plan.
She rethought his instructions. She was to go to Markheim’s office in Friedrichstrasse later in the day, after working hours. Solovsky had said that Markheim’s clients were international and because he had to allow for various time differences, he always stayed late to make his telephone calls. She was to tell him she knew he had acted as the agent and, in her role as a U. S. television reporter, she was to offer him a bribe to tell her whom he had acted for in the purchase, promising him absolute secrecy.
Genie gulped as she thought of the amount of the bribe. One million dollars. Oh, well, she told herself philosophically, they say all TV reporters are failed actors. How hard can it be to play the Mata Hari role anyway? Still, she wished uneasily