Magic Lantern (Rogue Angel) (22 page)

“You
think
that. You don’t know it. We want the truth for our show. Our viewers deserve to know what happened to Dr. Jekyll’s freaky little formula.”

“Doug, listen to me a minute.”

He sighed noisily and as unpleasantly as he could.

“Dr. Jekyll wasn’t real. Neither was Mr. Hyde. They are fictional creations Robert Louis Stevenson made up during a bout of fever and sickness.” She’d already
had
this conversation.

“Were you there? Stevenson got his inspiration from somewhere.”

“He had a fever. He was sick. Chronically.”

“So that means he knew a lot of doctors.
Doctors.
He lived in a lot of places. See? I was listening.”

He had been. Annja was shocked.

“Since he met
lots
of doctors, Stevenson also could very well have met one like Dr. Jekyll. One who invented a formula that changed people into monsters. That’s all I’m saying. Our viewers don’t need much. Just a nudge in the direction of conspiracy.”

For a moment, Annja was taken aback. Then she remembered how stubborn Doug could be once he had an idea in his head. “Look, I’m working on something else.”

“
Annnnnnnnjjjjjjaaaaa,
please. You’re killing me here. I’ve been covering for you. Tell me we’re close to the Mr. Hyde story.”

“Not even.”

She heard a thumping noise over the phone.

“Doug.”

The thumping stopped. “What?”

“How do you expect me to tell you when the London Metro police are going to catch this guy?”

“They don’t have to catch him. It’s better if they don’t. More mysterious. Continuing danger. That sort of thing. All I need is a story that hints that Mr. Hyde is still out there roaming around. An interview would be cool, too.”

“More people will be killed.”

“Then the police should stop him. And we need to be there when they do. Or at least to film them trying to catch Mr. Hyde.”

Annja took a breath, then repeated, “I’m working on another thing.”

Doug’s response was immediate. “No.”

“I was nearly killed today.”

“I understand. You’re not easy to work with.”

Annja almost argued. She knew for certain she was a lot easier to work with than Kristie Chatham was. “And if I keep poking around in the Mr. Hyde investigation, Inspector Westcox is going to put me on a plane.”

“I’ll get the lawyer working to fight that.”

“Getting back to the me nearly getting killed part.”

“Does it have anything to do with Mr. Hyde?”

“No.”

“Annnnnjjj—”

“It has to do with a magic lantern that’s said to be haunted and can give its owner three wishes.” It was all she had to work with.

Doug stopped moaning. A beat passed and she could almost hear him thinking. “Wait. Did you just say a
magic
lantern?”

“Yes.”

“And three wishes?”

“Yes.” He’d registered that but he’d glossed over the fact that she’d nearly gotten killed. Annja marveled at Doug’s attention span.

“Cool. Three wishes is awesome. I don’t think we’ve done a three-wishes story in a couple years.” Doug’s connection became fuzzy for a moment, then she heard the rapid-fire tapping of his keyboard. “Nope. We haven’t since that well in Italy that Kristie did the story on.”

“The one that was supposed to have the mummy in it?”

“Yeah.”

“There was no mummy in that well.”

“No three wishes, either, but the viewers loved the episode… . Three wishes. I’m sure I can get marketing to give this a special look.”

“And the lantern is said to have already caused several deaths.” That was also true. Annja knew for certain that several men had died earlier.

“Sweet.” Doug lowered his voice. “Look. Right now we’ve got a little fat in the schedule. We’ve got some time—maybe a few days—before we have to wrap the next episode. I can let you do this if you bring in the lantern story
and
the Mr. Hyde story.”

Annja let out a calming breath. She didn’t know if she’d have either story. “All right.”

“Have you made a wish yet?”

“No. I don’t have the lantern.”

“Not feeling the love right now.”

“But I know where the lantern is. I don’t know where Mr. Hyde is.”

Doug was silent for a moment. “Three wishes, you said?”

“Yes.”

“If you get the lantern, if there are three wishes, you get one, I get one, then we flip for the third. Deal?”

* * *

A FEW MINUTES LATER AFTER hanging up on Doug, Annja discovered the large library where Fiona and Edmund sat at a table with a buffet spread out before them. They hadn’t hesitated about digging in. Edmund’s new suit fit him well and he looked refreshed except for the bruises and small bandages on his cheek and chin.

“Sorry.” Annja took a seat across from Edmund. Fiona sat at the head. “Didn’t realize I took so long.”

“You didn’t take long.” Fiona placed ham and cheese and vegetables on a flatbread wrap. “Edmund and I just got here a few minutes ago ourselves.”

Annja picked up a plate and selected sliced meat, cheese, vegetables and a boiled egg, with a selection of fresh berries and cut melon on the side.

She glanced at Edmund. “Did you know that Dutilleaux’s lantern was on Hitler’s list of arcane items?”

Edmund nodded. “I did.”

“You didn’t think that was significant?”

“I saw no reason to give that particular myth credence. There was nothing to support it. Unless you’ve discovered something I couldn’t… Did you find something?”

“Nothing to substantiate it, no. But I did hear from researchers in the field about some of the lantern’s myths.”

“Did they mention the legend about how Dutilleaux was using the lantern to enter the spirit world and steal gold and gems to finance himself in the real world?”

“No.” Annja dug into her meal, surprised at how hungry she was.

“You’ll get to that one eventually. Laframboise seemed to be particularly enchanted with the idea of the lantern’s mystical properties.”

“I suppose.” Annja bit into a boiled egg, chewed and swallowed. “Did you know that Dutilleaux worked for the Shanghai banking companies?”

Edmund frowned and winced almost immediately as the expression caused him obvious pain. The bruises on his face and mouth had started to show up a little more. Some of the swelling had gone down, though. “Yes.”

“Dutilleaux was an aide to the French businessmen trading with China through Shanghai.”

Fiona sipped her drink and set it aside. “I thought the First Opium War and the Treaty of Nanking were what opened the port cities to outsider trading. That was well after Dutilleaux died in the catacombs in Paris.”

Annja raised an eyebrow. “History buff?”

Fiona smiled and reached for a peach. “Traveling for years with Roux.”

Annja wiped a crumb from the corner of her mouth with her napkin. “The Opium Wars gave the Chinese no choice about opening the ports. Once that happened, the British, French and Americans were there to stay. Those were the big three. From the information I received, Dutilleaux was a banker first for the French, then worked for the Chinese.”

“Why is that important?” Edmund pushed his plate aside. “And who is Roux?”

She ignored his second question. “Why did he take employment? Or why did the Chinese offer it?”

“Either.”

Fiona held up a forefinger. “The Chinese would have wanted an insider. Someone they could trust who could explain to them the Western mind-set.” She took another bite out of her peach. “They would have sought out someone they believed they could control.”

Annja nodded. “They made a mistake with Dutilleaux. He worked there for three years, then was discovered to be pilfering gold and gems from the bank where he worked. According to the papers I was sent, Dutilleaux got out of Shanghai just ahead of the Qianlong Emperor’s royal executioners.”

22

“Anton Dutilleaux was just a common thief?” Edmund looked shocked and dismayed, and Annja couldn’t tell which feeling was stronger. “That can’t be.”

“I’d hardly call a man who could steal a small fortune from under a Chinese emperor’s nose a
common
thief.” Fiona shook her head. “A walking dead man, perhaps. But never common. He had to have been very skilled at what he was doing, with nerves of steel.”

Annja silently agreed. She watched Edmund and felt sorry for him because he’d obviously built Dutilleaux up into so much more. During her early years working in archaeology, heroes and legends had sometimes fallen like wheat before a thresher.

“The missing money could explain why Dutilleaux’s murderer was Asian.” Annja maneuvered a chunk of honeydew melon into her mouth.

“No one ever proved the nationality of Dutilleaux’s killer. That person was never caught. Dutilleaux had rivals as well as jealous husbands of his lovers.” Edmund returned his attention to the buffet, but his heart wasn’t in it and he merely picked at the food.

“No matter what the truth is, the cold, hard fact of the matter is that we may never know.” As always, Fiona looked unflappable. “Sometimes the truth does hide in history.” She paused for a moment. “Ollie was able to put together quite the package on the man who kidnapped Professor Beswick. If we choose to pursue the lantern, we’re up against an accomplished foe.”

The doors to the library opened and Ollie strode in. “Did I just hear my name mentioned?” He carried a small computer tablet tucked under one arm.

“I thought I was going to have to call for you.”

“Never.” Ollie flashed a winning smile. He paused near the table and tapped on the computer screen.

A wide-screen television monitor dropped from the ceiling to cover a section of the bookshelves. Almost immediately, the image of the man Annja had noticed with Edmund in the warehouse filled the screen.

“As you know, this is Jean-Baptiste Laframboise, not one of the biggest criminals in Paris, but certainly one of the most lethal,” Ollie said in a calm, clear voice. “He’s never risen to the top of anyone’s list, but that’s more by design than ability. Laframboise has deliberately stayed away from high-profile crimes that caught the national eye, much less international attention.”

Annja worked to build another sandwich. “He’s been taking small jobs?”

“On the contrary, he’s taken very lucrative jobs. But he’s been careful to pick very
quiet
ones, as well. Things that ran under the radar when you consider the varied nature of criminal enterprise. He’s done quite well for himself.” Ollie tapped the tablet again.

On the screen, pictures rotated quickly, showing a penthouse, a country home, a yacht and Laframboise in either a Jaguar or a Lotus. There were also several pictures of him at big social gatherings.

“He’s become something of a gentleman crook.” Ollie smiled. “He’s even ingratiated himself with the Parisian government by undertaking to buy back some paintings taken from the Louvre a few years ago.”

Fiona stared at the screen. “Did Laframboise steal the paintings first?”

“No, surprisingly.”

“Then who selected him as the go-between?”

“The thieves.”

“Interesting. That means the thieves knew Laframboise had a connection he could go to. Are we aware who that is?”

“I’m afraid not, Ms. Pioche. At least, not yet.”

Edmund frowned. “Laframboise’s contact within the Parisian government, especially an entity like the Louvre, could explain how he knows so much about Anton Dutilleaux.”

Annja regarded him. “Laframboise doesn’t exactly strike me as the scholarly type. Is there anything in his background to suggest interests like that?”

Ollie sniffed delicately. “The man never even finished a secondary education. By all accounts, though, he’s a reasonably intelligent man. I did discover one oddity that might be interesting to you. It appears that Laframboise’s mother was a fortune-teller.”

“What kind of fortune-teller?” Fiona looked surprised.

“Cards, Ms. Pioche. Tarot, to be exact, though the reports I’ve obtained from police records indicate that she was taken into custody a number of times with a regular deck of cards.”

“Which is nothing more than an abbreviated tarot deck.”

“She claimed she was a Gypsy and possessed otherworldly skills.”

“Why was she arrested?”