Chapter 69

 

Frank kept sneaking looks at Anton, wondering how long this frigging deal was supposed to take. He’d picked up on the fact that the Dutchman had other business with the men—yeah, he got that. But, geez, couldn’t they just get the money for the necklace and be out of there? Now!

They’d been in the house a good forty-five minutes before Lubnic got up and went to the tiny kitchen, coming back to the table with a bottle of vodka and some plastic cups. The atmosphere relaxed quite a bit—a sign to Frank that the most important topics had been discussed—and conversations flowed in several languages. Frank caught what he could in English.

“The Salem Diamond is to be on display,” said the Frenchman. “I would love to get my hands on that beauty.”

Lubnic shrugged, replying in English. “Forty-five carats, it could be cut down … but I do not like handling the famous stones. Everyone’s looking for them, the honest dealers will recognize even a fragment of one like that.”

Anton nodded. “I do not touch them myself.”

What he was really saying, Frank realized, was the Fitzpatrick necklace interested him only because it had not been seen by as many in the world of gems. Those stones would not set off international alarm bells.

“Ah, but the rest of the show,” the Frenchman said, “it is to be glorious. We will sweep in, we take away bags and bags …”

Frank’s interest sharpened, but a stare from Lubnic hushed the man. Frenchie abandoned the plastic cup of vodka and brought a half-full bottle of wine from the kitchen. He pulled the cork and poured a generous amount into a clean glass.

Anton finally began making restless movements. “We should go.”

The Frenchman took a slow, appreciative sip of his wine, set the glass on the countertop and walked out of the room.

Anton and Lub spoke quickly in the language they’d used earlier in the meeting. Frank listened intently but only caught a few words, a name—Leblanc—and something that sounded like mausoleum.

The Frenchman returned from what Frank assumed was a bedroom, approached Anton and handed over a large, thick envelope. Anton flipped through the euro notes inside, pulled out a large hunk of them and placed the envelope on the table.

“The necklace, please.”

Frank had placed the valuable piece in a cloth bag and carried it here in an attaché case he’d purchased this morning. Now he was glad he had. He didn’t want this bunch seeing his money belt, not that his few thousand in cash would be of interest to a gang that played in the millions of dollars. He carefully laid the bag on the table and pulled the necklace out. He heard a collective intake of breath. The emeralds were impressive, even to this group. He pushed the handsome piece toward Lubnic.

“We’re done, then?” he said, scooping up the envelope. As a show of trust, he merely thumbed through the cash before placing it in his case. “It was a pleasure doing business with you, gentlemen.”

Although it really hadn’t been—more like a pain in the neck, all their wrangling and trailing Anton all over the place. He walked out of the house, turned a corner and waited in a recessed doorway to watch. When ten minutes passed with no one emerging from the meeting, he felt sure they wouldn’t try to follow. Once more he wondered how much money these guys had made through all their jewel heists. Enough that a quarter-million euros wasn’t worth their time to chase him down and steal.

A little wave of admiration—he knew plenty of con men who wanted to have the cake and eat it too, who would have taken the necklace and found a way to keep the cash as well. He wondered when he might feel that way.

Frankie, when is enough really enough? came his mother’s voice. He hailed a taxi, smiling to himself and thinking: Not yet, Mom.

“Nice Acropolis,” he said to the cabbie.

Although the theft and sale of the necklace had been a pain, now that he had contacts in the jewel trade over here, the idea of a large-haul job held more appeal. Hell, it was worth it, obviously, since these Panther dudes did it all the time. He’d always been a fan of the short con, quickly in and out, take some mooch for the cash in his wallet or some old lady for a social security check or two, but it took a long time to amass this kind of money with those jobs. The long cons paid better but took forever to complete. He found himself warming to the idea of getting into the smash-and-grab thrill of scooping up handfuls of jewels and then trading it quickly for a briefcase of cash like the one he carried now.

The Acropolis convention center was lit up like a Christmas tree when his cab pulled up at the curb. Guys in tuxedoes manned the door, and well-dressed people got out of nice cars which pulled around a circular drive and deposited them at the front steps. He paid for the ride and stepped aside to scope out the situation. He was wearing a decent suit. From the briefcase’s side pocket, he withdrew a silk tie he’d lifted from a hotel gift shop in Zurich, draped it around his neck and knotted it in place. With his standby Tiffany business cards, he might just be able to pull this off.

All he wanted at this point was a good look-see. He might be impulsive, but he would never dash into a place like this, with this kind of security, not knowing what he would find inside.