‘Look, I didn’t lie to you as such. Least, not how you think. I’d never heard of Ekaterina Karpin. But you ring me out of the blue, asking about the Romanov treasure. Then you ask about a woman with a Russian name. You don’t have to be a long-jumper to make the leap. Ekaterina was connected with the royal loot. And if that was the case, she could be FSB. Possibly freelancing. But she was definitely connected with the Tzar’s lost riches.’
‘So what?’
‘The Romanov treasure is bad news. Always has been. That’s why I didn’t want to give you anything that would send you further down that road. It’s why I pretended Potter hadn’t got a match for your dabs, an’ all. When he came back with a Russian name, I thought, aye aye, don’t want him chasing this one.’ His voice becomes pleading. ‘Just walk away from it. Just—’
‘What’s so different about this case? What’s so different about going after this haul?’
I can see Frank is torn. His indecision doesn’t stem from him wavering about telling me the truth. It’s more nuanced than that: he doesn’t want to vocalise his belief because that would somehow make it more real.
When he speaks, it’s as though he’s coaxing the words out of himself. ‘The legend of the Romanov treasure was born in bloodshed. For over a hundred years, men have been searching for it. That’s not something to be taken lightly. No one knows its secrets. Not really. Because . . . it’s like the gold was forged in death and the diamonds cut from greed. I don’t care whether you believe in such things, but this lost treasure . . . Marc, it’s cursed. I swear to God. It’s like nothing you’ve gone after before.’
I slap Frank’s upper arm. ‘It’s all good.’
His uncertainty switches to anger and he shouts, ‘It’s not all good, lad! Were you listening to me for one second?’
Everyone in the shop has stopped to have a good gawp at us and I reply, ‘Well, I think everyone in the room is listening to you now.’
‘Do you think I lied for no reason? You know? For a giggle? I was worried about you! You’ve just made it ten times worse. Thanks for that!’
‘I’ve got to do this, my friend. For reasons I can’t tell you about yet. Part of a bigger hunt.’
‘Bloody hell . . .’ He rakes his fingers through his hair. ‘It’s Diana, isn’t it?’
‘I made promises.’
‘Promises are like necks. Easily broken.’
I flash him a grin. ‘There we go! Now, are you with me?’
He doesn’t answer immediately and the other shoppers, aware that the flashpoint has flashed by, lose interest in our exchange. ‘Christ . . .’ Frank’s tone is steady again, but remains deadly serious. ‘I’ve seen you do amazing things, son. I’ve seen you defy the odds. But listen to me, you can’t defy this curse.’ I offer no response, but don’t move. He shakes his head. ‘And yes. I’m with you.’