Eye of the God (39 page)

“That's right.”

“So what did this guy do? They must want him pretty badly if they're putting him on a flight in this condition.”

Abby furrowed her brow. “Yes,” she said, “Alex Weld has been wreaking havoc for quite some time.”

“Do you want him restrained?”

She gave the doctor a fierce look. “I can handle him.”

He chuckled and threw his hands up in mock surrender. “I believe you.”

When the medical staff exited the plane, the small flight crew prepared for departure.

Abby settled into her seat, and the pilot came back to confer with her.

“Dr. Mitchell, air traffic control has requested our flight plan.”

Abby tapped her fingers on the tan leather armrest. “That poses an interesting problem.”

“How's that?”

“We don't exactly have one at the moment,” she said.

The pilot frowned and cocked his head to the side. “We're about to become airborne with no destination?”

She offered a shrug. “We're awaiting orders from Interpol.”

“I see. Could you wait a moment?” He turned on his heel and walked back to the cockpit.

After a few moments, the pilot returned. “I've informed air traffic control that we're a diplomatic flight awaiting instructions. They've cleared us, but they still ask that we give them a ballpark idea of our heading for security purposes.”

“All right,” Abby said. She pulled her iPhone from her pocket and zoomed in on the grid of lines and blinking dots. She analyzed the screen for a few moments. “Will it suffice to tell them we are headed toward the continent of Africa?”

33

T
ABLE MOUNTAIN SQUATTED ABOVE CAPE TOWN, SOUTH AFRICA,
engulfing the entire northern horizon. At a mere 3,500 feet above sea level, it was not tall enough to be intimidating, but its flat top and sheer rock faces gave it a certain landmark character. It was perhaps the contrast of blue ocean, white beaches, and lush vegetation that made the gray shale and sandstone monolith so impressive, as though angry gods had chucked the mountain from the heavens and it just happened to land at the mouth of Camps Bay on the southern tip of Africa. It loomed over the busy maritime city.

Isaac and the Broker remained silent as they drove through the bustling streets of Cape Town, the car darting in and out between clumps of tourists that loitered in the road. They had ignored one another for the greater part of the trip, and a fierce tension had settled between them. Held silent by their pride and ambition, neither wanted create an involuntary truce by speaking first. So they plodded forward at a snail's pace in the Black Audi, Table Mountain inching ever closer.

“To the hotel,” the Broker ordered, speaking directly to Wülf. “We will take a cab from there.”

Wülf nodded and navigated the vehicle through the narrow streets toward the Cape Grace Hotel, a prime five-story, red brick resort that sat on the Bay.

Isaac faced the Broker and narrowed his eyes. “What are you doing?”

“Do you want witnesses?”

“No.”

“Then we go alone.”

Wülf rolled to a stop beneath the hotel portico and opened the back door. The two men slid out, surveying their surroundings.

“Call a cab for us. You know what to do.” The Broker met Wülf's gaze.

“Yes sir,” he said, and then disappeared into the lobby.

Ten minutes later a chauffeured sedan pulled to the curb, and they climbed in.

“Destination, sir?” the driver asked.

“Table Mountain,” the Broker responded. “Take us to the tram.”

“Very well.” He pulled into traffic and crawled through the tourist-clogged streets. Within a few moments they slipped onto a two-lane country road and wound their way toward the monolith that hovered over the city.

The Cocktail Bar at the top of Table Mountain in Cape Town could only be accessed by an aerial cableway that traversed a vast gorge laden with groves of cluster pine. The rented sedan pulled into a parking space at the lower cable station on Tafelberg Road, five miles outside Cape Town. Isaac Weld and the Broker left the car and headed toward the tram.

Camps Bay Tabernacle nestled snugly in the tourist district of Cape Town, almost hidden among the shops. But it caught Abby's eye as she and Alex drove the rented Jeep through the city, following the GPS signal. It was an old structure of crumbling brick covered with cracked plaster. The large wooden doors stood open, and within she caught a glimmer of candlelight.

“Did you see something?”

Abby forced her eyes back to the road. “No. Just looking.”

She had visited Cape Town a few times, but on none of her trips had she ever driven. As in Europe, South Africans drove on the opposite side of the road, and the driver sat in the right-hand seat. Later, she and Alex could compare notes to see who was more shaken by the experience.

“Do you have any idea why we're here?” he asked, looking a great deal healthier and more well-rested than he had the day before.

“I do now.” Her eyes ran up the sheer rock face of Table Mountain.

“Care to explain?”

“See those sandstone cliffs?”

“You mean we're going up there?”

“Apparently so.”

“Great.”

A mischievous smiled danced at the corners of her mouth. “You're not afraid of heights are you?”

“Heights, no. Dangling several thousand feet in the air by a wire, yeah, that's a bit unnerving.”

She smiled. “Don't worry. It's not the fall that kills you. It's the sudden stop.”

“Funny.”

“Oh, come on, Alex. It can't possibly be worse than some of the things you've done in your career.” The last word came out as an insult, and she immediately regretted it.

He turned toward her, trying to catch her eyes now planted firmly on the road. “I've done a lot in my career. Much of it I regret.”

She didn't respond, and they remained silent until Abby stopped the Jeep in front of the entrance to the cable station.

“Let's go,” she said. “We need to finish this.”

Isaac felt the diamond tug against his chest as they rode the cable car up the mountain. The Broker remained silent, face turned toward the window. Isaac on the other hand looked up toward the cocktail bar two thousand feet above. As he did, he noticed the large black helicopter that touched down for less than a minute and then rose in the air again.

The Collectors,
he thought, a triumphant grin spreading across his face.

34

I
SAAC AND THE BROKER PUSHED THROUGH THE GLASS DOORS LEADING TO
the cocktail bar. Although the restaurant could hold one hundred thirty people, fewer than twenty were scattered about the room, seated sparsely at the tables, sipping on a variety of wine and mixed drinks. Panoramic views spread along three sides of the restaurant, engulfing visitors with light from floor-to-ceiling windows. Clear blue water glinted off the white sand of Camps Bay below, and a cloudless sky stretched from horizon to horizon.

The Broker drifted to a table in the far corner, wedged between two windows that overlooked the cliff. He pulled back a chair and sat down, arms crossed and jaw clenched.

Isaac joined him at the table, his eyes wandering over the handful of customers. “What now?”

“We wait.”

“I need a little more information than that.”

The Broker clenched his jaw. “Pity you won't get any.”

“Don't mess with me.”

“Don't pick a fight.”

Isaac patted his sport coat gently, reminding the Broker of the pistol tucked beneath the surface. “We have an agreement.”

The Broker's lips twisted into a sadistic grin. “Do we now?”

The cable car chinked up the gorge, rocking gently in the wind. Empty except for Alex and Abby, only silence filled the space that would have normally accommodated twenty passengers. They stood at opposite ends, in an effort to balance their weight and the awkwardness they felt.

The sun flooded the city with caramel-colored light as it slipped toward the horizon, its arc almost complete for the day. Yet Alex's eyes were not on the breathtaking view, but rather on the brown-eyed woman who would not meet his gaze.

“I'm sorry,” he said. “It wasn't supposed to turn out like this.”

“I know. You were supposed to get away with it. The perfect crime.”

“That's not what I meant.” He ran the back of his hand across the stubble on his cheek. “I wasn't supposed to fall in love with you.”

The words shocked Abby into a quick glance, but she looked away again, unable to absorb the intensity in his eyes.

“Abby, I've never loved anyone. Ever.” He took a step toward her.

“Alex, please don't.”

He inched his way along the cable car. “You were totally unexpected.”

“And here I thought I was part of your plan all along. Isn't that how it works? Romance the girl. Steal the goods.”

“Usually.”

“But this time, you just happened to
really
fall in love? Wow! That's convenient.”

“It's not like that!”

Alex scooped her into his arms in one fluid movement. Their lips brushed for a moment, and then he pressed in, desperate to communicate his sincerity. For a brief second, she softened and returned the kiss. But then she stiffened and pushed him away.

“Nice try.” Abby wiped the kiss away with her forearm. But the look on her face left Alex unconvinced of her doubt.

He stood, eyes half closed, with the taste of her kiss still on his lips. Emotion erupted in his voice. “I'm sorry.”

A shadow passed over her face as she glanced between the top of the mountain and Alex. She opened her mouth to speak, but closed it again. They were almost at the end of their ride.

Hardness settled around the edges of Isaac's face, and his demeanor cooled. “Double-crossing me is a big risk, considering I decide whether you live or die.”

“True. But from where I sit, the risk is acceptable.”

“Do explain.”

“You've yet to prove you actually have the merchandise, Mr. Weld.”

Isaac pondered for a moment and drew the black velvet bag from under his shirt. He lifted the diamond from the pouch and let it rest in his palm. “Satisfied?”

The Broker's ravenous eyes grew large. “Very.”

“Good. Now when can we expect the Collectors to arrive?”