Played (7 page)

Everything seemed to match…but something bothered her.

“May I, signorina?” Stefano asked.

She looked up and saw the eagerness in his eyes. Just behind him, Alexis gave a nod of approval, so Christina stepped aside. No one spoke as Stefano studied the stone. She grew uneasy as his review went on for several minutes. Was something wrong? He seemed to be taking a long time to reassure himself that everything was fine. And while he might not be interested in the stone’s history, he appeared to be educated enough to know how to study a gem for evaluation purposes.

Finally, he nodded and stepped away.
“Grazie.”
He turned to Alexis. “I’d like to run through the rest of the collection now.”

“It’s in the other room,” Alexis said with a relieved smile. “I’ll take you.” She paused at the door. “Christina, I’ll see you in the gallery for the photo shoot.”

As Alexis and Stefano left the room, Christina turned to David. “You can go, too. I’ll just finish up my notes.”

David appeared disappointed. “Are you sure you don’t need my help?”

“I’m fine. Thanks.” When David left the lab, she was alone with J.T. “Don’t you have something else to do? Weren’t you going to track down Michael Torrance or Professor Keaton?”

“I’m working on that.”

“Really? How are you working on that if you’re standing here with me?”

He smiled. “Don’t worry about it. And stop trying to get rid of me. I might start to wonder why you want to be in this room alone with the diamond.”

“There are two guards outside the door, and no other escape routes.”

“I noticed.”

She sighed. “Fine, if you want to stand there and watch, go ahead. I must say I thought FBI agents led more exciting lives.”

“Sarcasm will not get rid of me. I have a very thick skin. So is this diamond really worth fifteen million dollars?” J.T. asked.

“It’s worth whatever anyone will pay for it.”

“But you expect to get something in that range?”

“Yes. There are only a limited number of colored diamonds in existence, especially of this size. It’s one of a kind.”

“And it’s been sitting in some family vault for a hundred years?”

“That’s as much as I know.”

“Seems you’d want to know more before you sold it. Isn’t there some danger that the claims of ownership are fraudulent?”

“Not in this case. The Benedettis provided ample proof of ownership.” She met his gaze head-on. “There have been a few scandals over the years, but not at Barclay’s. Our house has an impeccable reputation, and it’s going to stay that way.” She took another look through the scope. She wanted to get rid of any lingering doubts about the diamond’s authenticity. If the diamond was a copy, it was excellent, a perfect match, right down to the flaws. Or was it? Her heart began to race.

She wanted to read through the report again. She wanted to move back and forth between the scope and the computer screen, but she didn’t want to raise J.T.’s suspicions. If she implied that there was anything wrong with the diamond, he would be all over her. He’d suggest that she’d switched it with the professor. After all, Professor Keaton’s tie had been in her office. And J.T. already thought she was being conned by Evan. She had to think. She had to buy herself some time.

Maybe she was wrong. It was possible. Stefano Benedetti hadn’t seen anything out of the ordinary. Sometimes flaws could be detected only under particular lighting conditions, especially small mineral inclusions.

She could take a few minutes to think. There were only a few people in the world who had the ability to copy a diamond of this magnitude. Who would know how to find those people? One man came to mind. And she knew just how to find him. He’d already told her where he would be when he’d called her the night before. But first she had to get through the next hour without J.T. suspecting anything was wrong.

“Everything all right?” J.T. asked.

“Perfect,” she lied. “Everything is perfect.”

4

He’d asked her to meet him at the San Francisco Zoo by the lion’s cage at noon. Christina knew the clandestine meeting appealed to her father’s sense of drama. They’d played out many such meetings in the past. Marcus Alberti loved action, excitement, suspense, and intrigue. She suspected that in his own head he was more James Bond than academic historian. He had spent his life researching the past, but over the past two decades his desire to become more of an active participant than an observer had changed him. It hadn’t been enough for him to read about great adventurers; he’d wanted to be one.

She hadn’t realized just how far he would take this desire until it was too late. It had all started out so innocently, with such a sense of justice. Her father had become obsessed with setting right the wrongs that had been done in the art world. He believed that works of art that had been stolen during times of war or other turbulence should be returned to their rightful owners. It was a laudable goal. Until his arrogance got in the way. Until he started bending the rules, stealing back items from those who believed themselves to be the legal owners. At some point her father had lost track of what was right and what was wrong, and she’d found herself in that same hazy gray area with him.

She’d been his partner in crime; only she hadn’t realized it until it was too late, until the ties that bound them together began to unravel. She had never thought they would be as estranged as they were now. She had never thought there would come a day when she would never want to see him again, not want him to be part of her life, but that day had arrived. That day was now.

Why had he returned to San Francisco? He’d promised he would stay away from her, play his games elsewhere. What had changed? She had to find out.

Christina paused by the entrance to the zoo to take a look behind her. She hoped no one, specifically J.T., had followed her. When she’d left Barclay’s, J.T. had been reviewing videotape from the security cameras to see if they could figure out who had set the smoke bombs. She’d told David that if J.T. asked, to let him know she had gone to lunch and would be back around two o’clock. Hopefully that would buy her enough time to meet her father and figure out whether or not he was in any way involved with the diamond.

The street behind her held no familiar faces, so she entered the zoo and bought a ticket. A large number of schoolchildren milled around the entrance, and a tram was loading up for its next trip around the park. Off in the distance was the carousel she’d ridden so many times with her father. The familiar music made her feel a little sad that those happy, carefree days were gone. One thing about her dad—he’d made her childhood fun. A born teacher, he’d wanted to expose her to everything. He’d encouraged her to learn as much as she could, to be curious, to ask questions.

Now she was curious about him, what he was up to, and how it could affect her. She walked through the zoo, barely glancing at the tall giraffes, enormous elephants, squealing birds, and howling monkeys. She was too worried about what was coming next. She’d worked so hard to build a life for herself after losing everything five years earlier. She didn’t want to have to start over again.

She stood by the railing looking at the expansive cage that housed the lions. It was the middle of the day, when sometimes the big cats were sleeping. Finally, she saw one lion deep in the brush. He raised his head, as if wondering what had disturbed him; then he settled back down, but not all the way down, his eyes still open, his body positioned to spring or flee at any second. His instincts were on full alert. That was exactly the way she felt whenever her father was around, as if she couldn’t let down her guard for one second.

Not that this lion had much to fear in a controlled zoo environment.

It seemed wrong to have such noble creatures behind bars. Wouldn’t they be much happier running free in the wild? Wasn’t that where they really belonged?

She smiled to herself. Maybe she wasn’t as different from her father as she liked to think. Freeing the lions was something Marcus Alberti had always wanted to do. It was just another example of his romantic, impractical mind-set.

The hairs on the back of her neck began to tingle. A shadow fell across the pavement next to her. She turned her head. A man stood beside her, a fishing hat on his head, dark glasses hiding his expression, a beige windbreaker over his tan slacks. He looked like any other tourist, but when he turned to gaze at her, she caught her breath at the familiar grin.

Marcus pulled off his glasses so she could see his dark brown eyes. He’d always had ridiculously long eyelashes, of which she’d been extremely jealous. There was no doubt that her father was a handsome man, one who smiled with his eyes as well as his mouth. His sideburns showed streaks of gray, and there were a few more lines on his face, but that was to be expected; he was in his early sixties, after all. Not that he ever seemed to age. In his own head she doubted he ever felt older than twenty-five. He was still reckless, still optimistic, still filled with dreams of what he could achieve. Was that laudable or stupidly unrealistic?

“How’s my sweetheart?” He opened his arms, and for a moment she wanted to move into his embrace, hug him tight, the way she had so many times before. But she held back, and his eyes filled with disappointment. His hands dropped to his sides and he dug them into his pockets. “You are not happy to see me,” he said heavily.

“Should I be? What’s going on, Dad? Why the mystery meeting?”

“I’m worried about you, Christina.” His expression was somber, concerned.

“How could you be worried about me? I haven’t seen you in over a year or talked to you in the last three months. You don’t know what’s going on in my life, do you?”

“I stayed away because that’s what you wanted, wasn’t it?” he challenged.

“Yes, that’s what I wanted,” she admitted. “And it bothers me that you’ve chosen to come back now, when Barclay’s is about to auction off a very valuable diamond.”

“That is why I’ve come back,” he admitted.

His candor shocked and disappointed her. “Oh, Dad.”

“It’s not what you think. I came to warn you, Christina. The diamond is dangerous. It is cursed.”

His words echoed her conversation with the professor. Were they working together? “I heard that yesterday from an old friend of yours, Professor Keaton. Do you remember him? He was at the preview party last night.”

“Yes, of course, I remember Howard. He told you about the curse of the diamond?”

“Not in any detail. But when I asked Mr. Benedetti to confirm the story, he said it wasn’t true.”

Her father’s lips formed a taut line. “He’s lying. Vittorio Benedetti wants to get rid of the diamond and the curse. That’s why he’s selling the stone, why he wants it out of his family.”

His words made her uneasy, but she tried to dismiss his worry. “Even if there is a curse, it has nothing to do with me. I’m not going to buy the diamond.”

“But you’ve touched it, worn it. I am afraid for you, Christina, afraid of what curse you may have unleashed upon yourself. I don’t want you to touch it again.”

“You’re going to have to tell me more if you want me to understand.”

“Good versus evil, two sides of the same stone, Christina. In its rightful place the diamond bestows great luck. Taken from that place, it devours with evil all those who covet it.”

Despite her resolve to remain skeptical, his words sent a chill down her spine. Her father certainly had a dramatic flair.

“Don’t touch the diamond again,” he continued. “Call in sick. Let someone else handle the auction. Stay away from Barclay’s until the diamond is gone.”

“You know I can’t do that. It’s my job.”

He shook his head in frustration. “I don’t understand how you can work at an auction house, how you can sell priceless works of art as if they were merchandise like shoes or toilet paper. I taught you to respect the past, not to make a profit from it. That diamond belongs in Italy.”

“That diamond belongs to the Benedettis, who are free to sell it to whomever they please. I’m not cheapening the past. I’m part of a company that allows ordinary people to touch extraordinary things. I don’t understand why you can’t see that.” His criticism stung, not just because he was insulting her job, but also because he was making her doubt herself. Sometimes the commercialism of her business did irritate her. Sometimes she cringed to see a beautiful vase or painting pass into the hands of someone who wanted to have it because they were rich, not because they appreciated it. But who was she to judge other people’s motives? That was definitely not in her job description. “I have to go back to work.”

“Vittorio Benedetti stole that diamond, Christina.” Passion filled his voice; determination was written in his eyes.

She wanted to believe him, but how could she? “You always think everything is stolen.”

“I know him. I met Vittorio many years ago.”

“I would need a lot more than your word. Do you have any proof?”

“My word should be enough for you—my daughter.”

“That’s why it isn’t, Dad.” The gaze she gave him was direct and honest. “I’m not a little girl anymore whom you can fool with your games. I know who you are, what you’re capable of doing.”

“I don’t think you do, and it makes me sad.”

“Well, you’ve certainly given me some sad days, too. Where was your protective instinct when I lost my job at the museum? You want to know why I work for an auction house? Because no museum would hire me, and it took me almost two years before Barclay’s would take me on. All because of you and your ridiculous obsessions.”

He let out a heavy sigh. “I am sorry about that incident. But it was not as it appeared.”

“It never is.” She paused, knowing she had to ask him the question that had been burning through her brain for the past two hours. “There is something I want to know. Who would have the ability to copy a diamond like the Benedetti?”

His eyes narrowed. “Why do you ask? Do you think the stone is a fake?”

“When I looked at the diamond this morning, the specifications didn’t exactly match those on the appraisal report done last month in Florence. That report mentioned a small mineral inclusion in the shape of a heart. I couldn’t see it.”

“Mineral inclusions are not always visible from various angles.”

“I’m aware of that. What I want you to tell me is if I have a copy of the diamond or the real thing. And if I have a copy, who made it, who put it there, and who has the real stone?”

“That’s a lot of questions, Christina.”

“Last night someone set off smoke bombs at Barclay’s, causing a huge commotion. I was wearing the diamond, and it slipped off my neck for a split second.” She paused. “I was talking to Professor Keaton at the time, your old friend. Is he working with you? Did he somehow switch the diamond, bring you the real thing?”

“Is that why you went to my house last night?” he asked.

“Yes, I wanted to see if the diamond was in the safe,” she admitted. “And I thought I saw you leaving Barclay’s. Were you there?”

“You weren’t alone at my house,” he said, not addressing the second part of her question.

“No, I wasn’t.”

“Who was with you?”

“Oh, just a special agent with the FBI named J. T. McIntyre, who, by the way, now happens to be extremely suspicious of me and will no doubt have run a full background check on both of us by the end of the day. You have to leave, Dad, go away—far away. But before you do, you need to give me back the real diamond if you have it.”

“Did it ever occur to you that the diamond could have been switched at any time, perhaps by the Benedetti family? Think about it, Christina. They show your appraiser the real thing, and then they ship a fake to Barclay’s. You said yourself that you can’t be sure if the diamond is real or fake.”

“No, I’m not sure. But why would the Benedettis try to sell a fake diamond?”

“It would be difficult to trace it to them. If anyone found out, it would be blamed on Barclay’s.”

“On me,” she muttered. Was she being set up? Was that what this was about?

“Or the other alternative is that the appraiser in Florence made a mistake in his report. It would be difficult to copy an entire necklace, especially one that hasn’t been in the public eye. The only person who could do that would be someone who had a great deal of time to study the diamond and the chain.”

It was the same point she’d made to J.T. Maybe her father was right. She would check with the appraiser in Florence, discuss the flaws, the mineral inclusion. Perhaps one of them had simply made a mistake. It wasn’t as if she’d had a great deal of time to study the stone, not with J.T. looking over her shoulder. Perhaps all of his talk about thieves and con men had clouded her brain.

“If there is some possibility that the diamond you have is a copy, then it’s even more reason for you to distance yourself from it, Christina,” her father said. “Learn from my mistakes. Don’t get so close that it looks like you’re involved.”

“At the museum it didn’t just look like you were involved, Dad. You
were
involved.”

He gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “That’s all in the past. What’s important is that I love you, and I’m worried about you. Call in sick. Stay home. Make up an excuse.”

“I can’t do that. I have to figure out if the diamond is a fake, and if it is, I can’t let Barclay’s sell a false stone. It would ruin the company, and it would ruin me.”

He frowned in dissatisfaction, stroking his jaw with one hand. “All right. Maybe I can help. I have some…contacts. I can see if anyone knows anything about a copy being made. Can you give me a little time?”

She hesitated, not sure she wanted his help, but what choice did she have? “The auction is tomorrow at noon. I have to make a decision early in the morning.”

“You can call it off right up to the last minute,” he told her.

“I’d have to give a reason why I didn’t call it off today.”

“You weren’t sure. You had to take another look, which is the truth. I know you’re big on the truth,” he said with a half smile. “I guess I did something right raising you.”