Eye of the God (28 page)

Abby scanned the crowd, looking for a familiar face. She found Alex seated a few feet away, his gaze transfixed on her. “What I will share with you tonight are the things you don't know, the hidden secrets of this jewel around my neck. We will see that the diamond does not treat kindly those who take it by force.”

The ventilation system that serviced the Smithsonian's Museum of Natural History was a tangled mass of ductwork, intricately woven throughout the building. Isaac Weld, consulting the schematic images on his iPhone, crawled through the maze of aluminum. At regular intervals he stopped, studied the plans, and either continued forward or veered off in a new direction.

On his right leg was strapped an emergency light stick that shed a pale green glow in the ductwork. Not only did it light his way forward, but the hole he punctured in the casing allowed the green phosphorous liquid to leak out; it would illuminate his way back. In a matter of hours, the gel would fade, leaving nothing but a greasy smear behind.

He rounded a particularly tight corner and heard the muted sounds of applause. Before him lay a thirty-foot stretch of ductwork and then a three-foot-square metal grate. Isaac inched forward and looked down on the festivities below. Abby leaned against the podium, the Hope Diamond hanging around her neck.

He lifted his watch and checked the time. The pacing in Abby's voice and her point in the narrative indicated that she was near the midpoint of her presentation.

Isaac pulled out a small black box, roughly the size of a computer battery, from his work belt and laid it before him. Beneath the lid was a single green button.

As with all venues in the Smithsonian, the Rotunda was armed with a series of security cameras, three per level on each of the three levels—nine cameras in all to disable. The familiar rush of adrenaline hit Isaac's bloodstream,
and his heart pounded. The almost electric rush coursed through his veins. He pulled ten penlights from his belt and arranged all but one in a tripod. At the push of a button, each would send a beam of ultraviolet light directly into the path of the security cameras, reducing them to white screens.

Abby's speech was periodically interrupted with applause, and he waited until another such outburst occurred to unscrew the ventilation grate before him. The screwdriver he used was compact and noiseless, but he could not take the chance of being heard. Isaac loosened the screws and pulled the grate into the duct beside him. There was now little room to maneuver, but he had long since become accustomed to working in small spaces. He carefully aimed each of the penlights at an individual security camera.

Isaac clenched the last penlight between his teeth. In a few moments that one would be centered on the diamond around Abby's neck. Unique among blue diamonds, the Hope, when exposed to UV light phosphoresced a deep red, not unlike a swollen, angry eye. In a matter of seconds, the glowing jewel would be the only thing visible in the room.

“What I find most interesting about the legacy of the Hope Diamond is not the drama that played out on a large scale in the lives of those associated with it, but by the private misery they endured behind closed doors.” Abby lifted the diamond with a finger, “This thing has wrought more suffering than many human beings. Yet it is so much more than a blue rock dug from the bowels of India. It is
a cultural icon, an object of spirituality, a symbol of greed at the deepest level. Those who long for power seek it, but rarely are they satisfied. It is a magnificent display of artistry, but ultimately, it is nothing more than a curse—”

No sooner had the word slipped from Abby's mouth than a loud pop was heard, and the room fell into utter darkness.

20

A
STUNNED SILENCE SETTLED OVER THE ROOM, AS THOUGH THE GUESTS
had yet to process the fact that they sat in the dark. Abby tried, unsuccessfully, to speak into the microphone and tell everyone to remain calm. Her voice fell flat, unmagnified.

Then pandemonium broke out. It was a woman who screamed first, her voice shrill and panicked. And like a series of dominoes tumbling over, the shrieks spread from table to table. Chairs scooted back, knocked over. Dishes and silverware fell to the floor. Abby remained at the podium, invisible, vulnerable, and terrified.

Everything in Isaac's line of sight was transformed into varying shades of green once he put on the night vision goggles. Chaos reigned below; people crawled like ants under a magnifying glass.

He set the timer on his wristwatch for ninety seconds, aimed the small crossbow at the medallion in the peak of the Rotunda, and pulled the trigger.

The anchor, attached to a fifty-foot line of thin climbing rope, whizzed toward the ceiling and entered the elaborately carved stone with a
chink.
Isaac pulled the rope taut, tested his harness, and swung headfirst into the open air above the crowd. He held the last penlight in his hand and aimed the ultraviolet beam toward the diamond around Abby's neck. An angry red began to burn within the depths of the jewel, growing brighter by the second. Isaac's harness whirred, as he descended five feet per second and then slowed to a stop. He dangled a mere two feet over Abby's head.

“Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen,” Alex mouthed the words, opening his eyes on fifteen. He moved toward Abby, hands outstretched, as he navigated the room from memory. When his fingers met with soft black velvet he jumped onto the stage riser and pulled Abby into his arms. Her body stiffened in surprise, and she tried to pull away.

“Hey, it's okay. It's me.”

Abby leaned into him, her breath ragged. “What just happened?”

“I don't know, probably a power outage.”

“Please don't leave me. I don't like this.”

Alex winced, but pulled her tighter. He wrapped his arms around her waist and laced his fingers through hers, knowing that Isaac dangled in the darkness above. The smile on his lips fluctuated between guilt and elation.

Isaac tapped Alex on the head with a gloved finger and waited for the signal. He watched his brother through the goggles, dismayed at the hesitance etched across his face.

Again he reached out and tapped Alex, counting down seconds they didn't have to spare. As if on instinct, their eyes met in the darkness, and yet Alex waited. Then, resigned to the inevitable, he shifted his weight and revealed the clasp that secured the Hope Diamond around Abby's neck.

Isaac descended the remaining two feet and with nimble fingers unclasped the necklace.

Abby heard the shriek before she realized it was hers. Yet it was different than the screams that echoed through the room from frightened aristocrats. Hers was primal and involuntary.

“What's wrong?” Alex leaned in to hear her above the noise.

Abby writhed frantically, trying to twist free from his grasp. “The necklace. It's gone!”

“What do you mean? I've been right here.”

“I don't know,” she panted. “Fingers. I felt fingers on my neck and then the weight of the necklace was gone.”

The sob came from somewhere deep within, rushing from her chest with wavelike force. With it came fresh tears that sprang from her eyes, drawing from the well of intensity that descended on her like the tide.

By the time flashlight beams pierced the darkness below, Isaac had ascended thirty feet and was level with the ventilation grate, the diamond safely hidden in a velvet pouch beneath his shirt. As though he were a child on a swing, he rocked back and forth on the harness, spending precious
seconds gaining momentum that would thrust him back to the opening. It only took a moment for Isaac to retreat into the safety of the ventilation shaft. He pressed the release mechanism on his crossbow and disconnected the anchor from the ceiling. A small hole, no wider than an inch, was the only evidence left on the medallion. The rope and anchor pulled back with a
whiz,
like a tape measure retracting. He reattached the vent cover, disassembled the tripod and pen lights, and replaced the equipment in the tool belt at his waist.