“I can’t believe it!” Carroll cried, then seeing the expression on Lepski’s face as he glared at the hotel check, she realized what he was saying had to be true, she flew into a rage.
“We must tell the police!” she hissed. “No one takes us for a ride! No one!”
“We’ll do nothing of the kind,” Lepski said quietly and firmly. “If it ever gets out that an American police officer had been taken for a ride by a smooth, goddamn conman, I’d never live it down! The boys back home would laugh themselves out of their fat minds! I warned you, but you wouldn’t listen. It’s your money.” He dropped the statement into her lap. “Let this be an experience, and from now on, don’t trust anyone!”
Carroll looked at the amount she would have to pay and gave a little scream that made the barman look sharply at her.
“Oh, Tom!”
“My old man said you have to pay for experience,” Lepski said. “In the future, listen to what I say.”
Carroll nodded.
“Now, I’ll ask you something,” Lepski went on. “Have you really enjoyed your trip?”
Carroll hesitated.
“Well, it has been a bit disappointing, but this just makes a mess of it, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah. Tomorrow we’ll go home. I’ve had enough of Europe. We would have been smart to have put all that wasted money in the bank. Is there anything left?”
Carroll grimaced.
“Less than five thousand.”
Lepski patted her.
“That’ll take care of our debts.” He finished his drink, then stiffened. “Jesus! I’ve forgotten our neighbours! Now, listen, you must tell them, as I’ll tell the boys, we have had a marvellous time. Not a word about the goddamn food. You remember those fancy meals we had to eat? Okay, you make your pals green with envy. Tell them about that duck we had. Ram it down their throats. Show them those photographs you took of the swans, the mountains, the Eiffel tower. No one... repeat no one... must have an idea we haven’t had a ball. Right?”
Carroll brightened. She could imagine how she would keep her girl friends enthralled and goggle-eyed. Maybe, being the centre of attraction for the next few months, would be worth the trip.
She got to her feet, linked her arm in Lepski’s and gave him her best sexy smile.
“Let’s go to bed, Tom.”
Knowing that smile, Lepski couldn’t get her to the elevator fast enough.
Lu Bradey parked his car outside the Eden hotel, Zurich, took the blue vanity box and his overnight case and entered the hotel.
The time was 01.15.
The night porter received him.
“Just overnight,” Bradey said. “I believe you have a Mr Claude Kendrick here.”
“Yes, sir. He is waiting for you in the bar.”
“Just take my bag up to my room. No, I’ll keep this box. It’s a present for Mr Kendrick’s daughter.”
Carrying the box, Bradey walked into the bar. He felt triumphant. In spite of Duvine, and thanks to Ed Haddon, he had accomplished his task. In a couple of days he would be worth a million dollars.
He found Kendrick sitting in an empty bar, a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket on a table beside him. Kendrick looked up expectantly, but seeing this elderly, wizened-looking man, grimaced, but then he saw the blue vanity box and he jumped to his feet.
“Lu, my dear boy! What a disguise! It is Lu?”
Bradey gave a joyous laugh.
“Yes, it’s me.” He waved the vanity box. “Success!”
“My dear, dear darling!” Kendrick exclaimed. “I knew you could do it! How wonderful!”
“When I’m asked to do a job, I do it.” Bradey put the box on the table, poured champagne into Kendrick’s glass and drank. “But there was some trouble.”
“Bad?”
“Never mind. I handled it. Duvine tried a double-cross.”
“How dreadful!”
“I fixed him. This is the last job he gets from us. Let’s go upstairs, Claude, and open the box. When will you get the money?”
“Tomorrow. I have an appointment with Radnitz. I told him you would be arriving. He said he would have the money ready.”
“Marvellous! Let’s go to your room.”
As the two men walked to the elevator, Kendrick said, “I have brought the necessary tools to open the box. We must be very careful not to damage the icon.”
“You’d better let me do it,” Bradey said. “I’ve got the know-how.”
Up in Kendrick’s room, the door closed and locked, Kendrick gave Bradey a set of tools, then sat down to watch.
While he worked, Bradey gave Kendrick a running commentary of how he had outwitted Duvine. Kendrick, listening, made little gasping noises.
“Who would believe it?” he said as Bradey levered the sides of the box apart. “Do be careful, chéri. It would be a dreadful thing to even scratch such a precious object.”
“Here it is,” Bradey said and gently lifted out a slab of wood from the false bottom of the box. “All these lovely millions.”
Then both men stiffened and stared at the slab of pine wood. Kendrick, his heart missing a beat, snatched the slab of wood out of Bradey’s hands.
“This isn’t the icon! It’s just a piece of wood!” he said huskily.
The shock was almost too much for Bradey. He snatched the slab of wood out of Kendrick’s hands, glared at it, then threw it on the floor.
Duvine had outwitted him! Somehow he had managed to switch the boxes, but how? As soon as that sonofabitch had stolen the Lepskis’ box, he hadn’t been out of Bradey’s sight.
Kendrick suddenly rose to his feet.
“You double crosser!” he screamed. “Give me the icon. I...”
“Shut up!” Bradey snarled. “It’s Duvine! He’s probably with Radnitz right now, offering it at half price!”
Kendrick closed his eyes. He knew Radnitz wouldn’t hesitate to deal with Duvine. He thought of the money he had spent, setting up this steal. He thought of Louis de Marney waiting for his share. He knew there was nothing he could do, but return to his Gallery.
He waved feebly to the door.
“Go away. Don’t ever let me see your horrid face again,” he said, then taking out his handkerchief, he burst into tears.
The previous evening, Sergas Holtz walked into Herman Radnitz’s study and placed a blue vanity box on the desk.
“Your instructions, sir, have been carried out,” he said.
Radnitz smiled.
“Excellent! Tell me about it.”
Holtz looked bored.
“There was no problem, sir. The Lepskis with their friends went out to lunch. Bradey went to the restaurant also for lunch. I took the opportunity and switched the boxes.”
“Have the box opened and let me see the icon,” Radnitz said.
Holtz took the box and left the study. He handed the box to Mythen.
“There is an object concealed in the bottom of this box,” he said. “Mr Radnitz wants to see it,” and he walked away.
Half an hour later, Mythen entered Radnitz’s study, and with reverent care, laid the Catherine the Great icon on the desk before Radnitz.
“A magnificent treasure, sir, if I may be permitted to say so,” he said.
Radnitz picked up the icon, his toad-like face alight with pleasure.
“You are right, Mythen,” he said. “One of the greatest treasures in the world. See if you can contact Vasili Vrenschov. Tell him to come as soon as he can.”
It wasn’t until the following day, when Pierre and Claudette Duvine were planning to get rid of the Lepskis, and Bradey was disguising himself as John Willis, that Vrenschov’s Beetle VW drew up outside Radnitz’s villa. He plodded up the marble steps with the heavy tread of an old man.