Eye of the God (43 page)

For Abby's sake Dow hid his gleeful smile. He clasped the handcuffs on Alex's wrists with such force that they dug into the younger man's skin, causing it to pucker and turn pink.

Alex fought his own smile. “I don't suppose I have any chance of a plea bargain?”

“There's nothing you could offer me that would come close to satisfying the debt you owe, Mr. Weld.”

“I wouldn't be so certain of that.” Alex let the words hang in the air, enjoying the sudden looks of interest from both Abby and Dow.

“Speak quickly, Mr. Weld. Time is running out.”

“Would my freedom be worth names, addresses, and phone numbers of all five Collectors, as well as detailed lists of every piece of art my brother and I have stolen for them in the last ten years, including locations of those art pieces today?”

Dow shook his head. “I don't believe you.”

“Do you really think I would put myself in such a precarious situation that I don't know who I'm working for? Let's just say that I'm a great deal smarter than my brother ever gave me credit for, and I've been keeping detailed records for quite some time.”

“You're a good liar, Mr. Weld.”

“I have proof.”

“I want to see it.”

“I want your promise that the information I give you will buy my freedom.”

“I can't let you loose in the art world again.”

Alex looked at Abby for some time and then said, “I've lost my taste for theft.”

Dow considered for a moment, deep in thought. He popped the knuckles on his left hand. “
If
you have the information you claim, I may be able to get clearance.”

“You're the Director of Interpol's Art Theft Division, Mr. Heaton. I doubt you need clearance from anyone.”

Dow shrugged. “Fair enough.”

“Then put it in writing. Right now. That if the information I give you is what I claim, you'll plea bargain me out of this.”

Getting the Hope Diamond back was a major victory in their fight against the Collectors, but the offer of their identity and the whereabouts of every major work of art stolen in the last ten years, was a temptation that even Dow Heaton could not resist. He grabbed a sheet of paper from the bar and scratched out his plea deal. “You have these men and women as your witnesses, Mr. Weld, that if your information is what you claim, you can have your freedom. You will have immunity from prosecution from all your past crimes.”

“In my wallet is a flash drive. On it you will find everything you're looking for.”

“Get it,” Dow ordered an assistant.

The small drive was quickly inserted into an Interpol laptop. Names and numbers flashed onto the screen, and it took all of Dow's self-control not to stumble backward.

“I told you the information would be worth my freedom,” Alex said. “You'll notice the second file contains pictures. I believe they will come in particularly handy during prosecution.”

37

A
FTER BEING PATCHED UP, ABBY SLIPPED FROM THE COCKTAIL BAR AND
jogged toward the cable car. It was a relief to escape the noise and activity inside and breathe the fresh air. She never once looked back as she began the long descent to the bottom of Table Mountain.

The tram rocked almost imperceptibly in the breeze. It physically hurt to look out on the breathtaking view of mountains and blue water and contrast it with the darkness in her heart. The pain of her father's rejection stabbed her again, and Abby slid down the wall of the cable car. No tears came. There were none left. Instead, an unfamiliar calm embraced her.

She sat alone, the voice of her father echoing through her mind. Her greatest fear had been confirmed. The man who gave her life could care less if she lived or died. It was a devastating blow, but not in the way she expected. Abby always assumed it was how he felt, but she thought the confirmation would destroy her. Yes, it hurt, but she would go on with her life.

She closed her eyes and pulled her knees to her chest. Two images battled in her mind: the ruthless, cold, uncaring
look on her father's face, and the solid, welcoming form of the stone chapel that sat outside her apartment. It beckoned her heart even now.

Alex turned to the window just as Abby stepped into the cable car. He wanted to call after her, to beg her to stop, but knew his words would be wasted. She couldn't hear him.

“Let her go.” Dow rested a hand on Alex's shoulder as he moved toward the door.

“Could you?”

Dow paused, his expression conflicted. “I suppose not.”

“Then please let me make it right.”

“Don't you think she's been through enough?” Dow wavered, unsure, as he read the ardor on Alex's face.

“More than enough. But I have to do this.”

Dow shifted and pulled an iPhone from his back pocket. He handed it to Alex. “You'll need this.”

Alex gave Dow a curious look.

“How did you think we were tracking the diamond? It was a tight race, but we managed to get here before the Broker.”

Alex took the phone and shook his head. “I really underestimated that woman.”

“Don't make the same mistake again.”

Alex rested a final glance on his brother, now covered with a white sheet, before hurrying toward a cable car. He would deal with those emotions later.

Candles flickered in Camps Bay Tabernacle; the church was empty. Abby stood in the doorway, her heart engaged in a tug of war. Tears slipped down her cheeks, and she wanted to run away, as she always did, and not surrender to the pull from within the church.

I'm tired of running.

Finally, Abby stepped across the threshold. A quiet love permeated the room and released the chains around her heart. Her father's cruel words, Alex's plea for forgiveness, Dow's gentle encouragement, all fell by the wayside as she approached the rough wooden altar and sank to her knees. Only one other time had she found herself in such a position, and now, as then, her knees pressed into the wood floor.

Her voice sounded weak and timid to her ears as she whispered in the empty sanctuary. “I'm tired of hating him.” And then she sobbed. It was an act of cleansing that prepared her heart for a conversation she had feared for years.

She rocked back and forth, her words louder and stronger as she cried out her heart before the altar.

“I've been running for so long … and all the while you were trying to show me … that you were here waiting to give me what he couldn't—”

Of all the places that Abby could have gone, this was the one that Alex least expected. He felt like an intruder as he stood just outside the church. He did not want to eavesdrop, yet he was compelled by the intensity in her words. Alex Weld had no history with God, had given Him little thought in his thirty-five years. Yet as he listened to Abby weep, his heart was troubled.

“This is too much,” he whispered, pressing his forehead against the doorframe. Alex closed his eyes, unable to escape the vision of his brother, covered by the white sheet. Isaac was dead, and for what? Money? Everything he knew, everything he had strived for, suddenly felt so wrong.

“Alex?” He jerked and saw Abby standing in the doorway. “What are you doing here?”

He tried to answer but choked on his own tears.

She stepped closer, only inches away now, her eyes boring into him.

“I followed you,” he said, holding up Dow's iPhone. “I just … I just wanted to make it right. But the truth is I don't know how.”

Abby listened to him, and then wiped a tear off his cheek. “I used you, too, Alex. To get what I wanted. We're no different.”

“Don't.” He pulled her to his chest and buried his face in her neck. “You're nothing like me. I'm a liar and a thief!”

They held on to one another in the doorway of the small church in Cape Town, South Africa, two lost and lonely souls trying to make sense of the chaos in their lives. And they wept together.

“Please don't be angry with me,” Alex cried. “I wasn't trying to intrude. I just—” His voice trailed off. “I just want to be with you, Abby. I don't want to lose you. Whatever we're doing with our lives, I want to do it together.”

She pulled away and held him at arm's length. “There's something I need to do first.”

“What?”

Abby pulled the ring off her finger and held it up for Alex to see. “For the longest time I imagined this to be a
symbol of my father's love, because it was all I had. But now I see it for what it is, a bribe, and a stolen one at that.”

Alex winced as she continued.

“I need to return it to its rightful owner.”

“Then let me come with you. No one knows better than I where to return it.”

“I can't do that, Alex. This is something that I need to do.”

“Listen.” He gripped her shoulders. “I'm involved in this, whether you like it or not. I have amends to make as well.”

38

D
ANIEL WALLACE BURST THROUGH THE DOOR OF PETER TRENT'S OFFICE
just as his secretary gave him the day's mail. On top of the stack was a package marked Priority Overnight Delivery, postmarked Cape Town, South Africa.

“We've got her, sir! My connection at the State Department tracked her leaving D.C. She arrived in Paris two days ago.”

Peter furrowed his brow and pulled a letter opener from his desk drawer. He tore into the package as Daniel continued.

“We can have Paris police pick her up.” Daniel finally realized that Dr. Trent was not paying attention.

“Sir? Did you hear me? We found Dr. Mitchell.”

“What?” Peter looked up, eyes large, blood draining from his face.

“I
said
, we found Abby Mitchell. In Paris.” And then Daniel saw just what had captured Dr. Trent's attention. His jaw fell open. “I don't believe it!”

“I don't think Dr. Mitchell's whereabouts is a concern any longer.” Peter Trent dug into the box and pulled out the Hope Diamond.

Epilogue

D
R. ABIGAIL MITCHELL WRAPPED THE TRENCH COAT AROUND HER WAIST
and slid into the black government sedan outside the U.S. Embassy in Dublin, Ireland. For the first time in many years, she did not feel the oppressive weight of the Hope Diamond over her shoulders. She bathed Dow, DeDe, and Alex in a radiant smile.

“You ready?” Dow asked.

“Yes.”

“It was a brilliant touch, Abby,” DeDe said. “Returning the diamond to the Smithsonian the way it originally arrived, in a plain brown box sent by regular mail. Peter Trent could never have expected that.”

“I'm sad to say the poor man never expected any of it.”

“Will you be returning to the Smithsonian, my dear?” Dow asked.

“No,” she said with a grin. “My work there is done.”

Dow nodded, an eager light in his eyes. “You know, I'd love to put you to work.”

“I'm sure you would.”

“Is that a yes then?”

“Was that a job offer?”

“Of course.”

Abby gave Dow a peck on the cheek. “Let me think about it.”

“Take all the time you want.”

Abby locked her seatbelt. “Shall we go then?”

“Just give the driver the address.” Dow pulled Abby into a hug. “Call us when you get back to the States.” He and DeDe slipped from the car and left her alone with Alex.

Abby looked at him with a smile, and he leaned over the seat, handing the chauffeur a slip of paper. “Take us here, please.”