A warbling alarm warned anyone near the vault to stand back as the thick door unlocked and swung slowly open. Nina waited until Jablonsky gave her a nod, then went inside, Eddie carrying the case in after her. The interior was a cramped circular room, the wall lined with more steel-doored lockers of various sizes. A computer terminal was set into a small pedestal-like desk at the centre, the screen displaying the combined weights to the gram of the visitors and what they carried: the floor around it was pressure sensitive, another security system to ensure nothing was smuggled out. ‘Christ,’ Eddie said, looking up at the ventilation grille in the ceiling. ‘It’s always so bloody cold in here.’
‘It’s nice in the summer, though,’ Nina reminded him. She sat at the desk and entered her security code. A panel on the desktop lit up, and she placed her right hand flat on it. A brighter line of light moved down the panel’s length - a palmprint scanner. A red LED above the handle of one of the largest lockers turned green.
Eddie slid the case inside, then closed the door. The LED went back to red. ‘Okay, sorted.’ Jablonsky, who had been watching from the entrance, waited until the visitors left the vault, then removed his card. More warning trills, and the door closed. Eddie gave the barrier a satisfied look. ‘Let’s see anyone break into that.’
‘Hopefully nobody’ll be trying,’ said Nina as they returned to the security station and signed out. ‘Well, if you’re jetting off to France, I think I’ll take some work home for the evening. See if I can figure out anything else from those translations.’
‘And people say you don’t know how to live it up.’
Nina narrowed her eyes. ‘Who says that?’
‘Not me,’ he replied quickly.
They entered the lift. Eddie reached up to push the button for the IHA’s floor - and barely held in a pained grunt. He rolled his shoulder, trying to knead out the stab of pain in one of the muscles. ‘Fuck.’
‘Are you really sure you’re all right?’ Nina asked. ‘If you don’t feel up to travelling—’
‘Course I’m up to it,’ he said sharply. ‘It’s not like I’m crippled. I’ve had worse.’
‘And are you sure you don’t want any painkillers?’
Eddie hesitated before replying. ‘Yeah, I’m fine. More or less.’ He gingerly touched a particularly sore spot on his backside. ‘Might need an extra cushion for the flight, though.’
7
France
‘Has he said anything?’ Nina asked.
‘Not so far,’ Eddie told her. They were on opposite ends of a transatlantic call, she at the United Nations in New York, he in Jindal’s office at Interpol’s headquarters in Lyon. He was tired, from both a day spent working with the investigators and jetlag, but hopefully the prisoner he was about to see would be more exhausted - and therefore likely to let something slip in the next round of questioning. ‘Kit’s going to let me watch the next interrogation in a few minutes.’
‘Kit?’
‘Jindal. Short for Ankit.’
Her voice became teasing. ‘Oh, you’re on first-name terms already? That’s so sweet!’
‘We were on an eight-hour flight, and you know me, I can’t keep my gob shut for eight minutes. Anyway, I’ll be watching from behind the glass, just like in a cop show. They’re going to try to make a deal so he’ll give up whoever hired him - we’ll see what he says.’
‘A deal. God.’ Anger entered her voice. ‘I wish there were some other way.’
‘So do I. I don’t want that bastard to walk free any more than you do. But it might be the only way to recover all the stuff he stole.’
‘I suppose . . .’ she admitted reluctantly.
‘At least we don’t have to worry about him nicking the Codex any more.’ He looked round as Kit entered and gestured for him to follow. ‘Got to go - they’re about to start.’
‘Okay,’ said Nina. ‘See you soon. Love you.’
‘Love you too. Bye.’ He disconnected and followed Kit from the room. ‘Don’t suppose he’s cracked already, has he?’
The Indian shook his head. ‘I’m afraid not. But our lawyers have come up with an offer, so we’ll see if he takes it.’ They reached the elevators, and rode up to the Interpol building’s seventh floor. A steel-barred security gate was opened for them once their identities had been confirmed by a guard, and they entered the interrogation area.
Kit led Eddie into a darkened room. A lanky female officer in her forties was checking a video camera. ‘Eddie, this is Renée Beauchamp,’ said Kit. ‘She’ll be conducting the interrogation with me.’
Eddie shook her hand. ‘Good cop, bad cop, eh?’
‘We are both good cops,’ she said with a small smile as she gave a folder to Kit. ‘This is the agreement - it’s as we discussed. All he has to do is sign it.’
‘What’re you offering him?’
‘In exchange for testifying against his employer, and providing all the stolen treasures are safely returned, he will get reduced charges and trial in only a single country - of his choosing. Since the Chinese have said he will get the death penalty for stealing the terracotta warriors, and the Saudis would almost certainly have him secretly executed to cover up the theft of the Black Stone, I think he will respond favourably.’
Eddie regarded the interrogation room’s occupant through the two-way mirror. Fernandez, though bruised and with his hands cuffed behind his back, didn’t seem worried. If anything, he appeared almost smug. ‘Find out in a minute, I suppose.’
Eddie sat and looked on as the two Interpol officers entered the interrogation room, uncuffing Fernandez before facing him across a table. The French woman spoke first, explaining the terms of the deal. Fernandez sat in silence until she finished, a smirk curling the corners of his mouth.
‘Thank you for that,’ he said at last, ‘but now, here is my offer. In return for total immunity from prosecution, signed by every country in which I am alleged’ - the smirk widened - ‘to have committed these crimes, and also being granted a new identity and witness protection in a country of my choosing, I will give you the name of those who I believe’ - he raised a finger theatrically - ‘are in possession of the missing treasures. Until I get that, I have nothing more to say.’
‘You seriously expect us to arrange full immunity?’ asked Kit.
‘As I said, I have nothing more to say.’ Both cops shot more questions at him, but his only response was a self-satisfied silence. After a few fruitless minutes, they gave up, handcuffing him back to the chair before returning to the observation room.
‘Well,’ said Kit, ‘that didn’t go as well as I hoped.’
Beauchamp sighed. ‘The arrogance of the man! How can he not see that this is his only chance?’
Kit regarded Fernandez through the mirror. ‘He must be very scared of his employer to make such big demands in return for giving him up.’
‘Are Interpol likely to meet them?’ asked Eddie.
‘It’s not really up to us. It depends how desperate the countries involved are to get back their national treasures. Even the Saudis might agree to his terms if they can recover the Black Stone without anyone knowing it was stolen.’
Eddie looked at the prisoner for a long moment. ‘I’ve got an idea,’ he said at last. ‘I’ll need to go in there, though. Alone.’