The Da Vinci Deception (45 page)

“What is his name?” Jonas asked.

She did not answer his question. “I am pleased with your decision, Mr. Kalem. Very pleased. Good-bye.”

A
taxi boat eased against the bumpers lining the stone dock. An oddly dressed man reached a short leg up to the landing, but quickly stood back when he found he was peering into the barrel of a rifle held by one of Pavasi's off-duty
polizia.
A burst of animated shouting followed, and when it was over, the guard extended a hand to the passenger and helped him scamper up beside him.

“What a strange little man,” Eleanor called out to Stiehl from the studio window where she had watched the boat approach and the visitor come ashore.

“Anyone we know?” Stiehl came beside her.

“Look how he's dressed.” She laughed. “A jumble of stripes as if he's been cast in some awful farce.”

The man wore blue seersucker pants and a striped shirt and tie topped with a blue and orange blazer. On his feet were thick-soled boots, and a white cap ballooned above his head like a giant soufflé. A leather briefcase was clamped under his arm. Eleanor was amused by the little man's strange costume, but she admired the way he confidently strode to the portico where Tony stood waiting.

“Forgive me if I'm a bit early, Mr. Kalem, but Tuesday is market day and I wanted to avoid the traffic in Como.”

Jonas looked down to the small man. He had expected Dong Shim, the one who had telephoned to arrange the first meeting with Madame Sun, and whom he expected had been in the Berkeley Hotel that first evening. They entered the solarium. Tony took position behind Jonas and never looked away from the strangely dressed man who had come to execute a rare and possibly historic transaction.

“This letter will introduce me.” The little man handed Jonas an envelope.

The letter was brief. It confirmed that Julian LaConte had represented Madame Sun and her husband on numerous occasions, and that he was a lawyer acting with full power of attorney. Though he was small of statue, there was a largeness about him. His long nose dominated a face that was strong and intelligent. His eyes were unusually big and brown, and framed by thick brows. His upper teeth protruded slightly, seemingly more so because they were large and very white.

“I'm expecting others,” Jonas said. “But our business is more important, and I damned well don't want to rush through it.”

“This should not take long.” The little man's voice was a rich baritone, another incongruity that Jonas noted. “May I see the Leonardo?”

“It's here on my desk.” Jonas took the drawing from a slim metal case.

“And here is the agreement.” LaConte handed the papers to Jonas. He then took a magnifying glass from his pocket and examined the page closely. He moved the glass slowly over the handwriting and seemed to be reading the words.

The bells in the church of San Giovanni in Torno pealed out the tenth hour. Jonas glanced nervously toward the dock.

“It is truly beautiful,” LaConte said quietly. “But so small. I expected it to be from a larger manuscript.”

“Only the Leicester Codex is larger,” Jonas said knowingly. “All of Leonardo's manuscripts are less than eight-by-twelve inches.”

The agreement was a scant three pages long. Jonas was asked to provide the name of his bank, the account number, and a bank officer who would confirm that the monies were deposited.

Jonas wrote in the information. “They've killed off the advantages of dealing with Swiss banks,” he grumbled.

“It's still easier to move money around in Switzerland,” LaConte said without looking up.

The Bank Julius Bar was serving as agent for Madame Sun. Jonas knew it as a private and prestigious institution. The deposit would be in Swiss francs, and the agreement stipulated that funds would be transferred immediately, but limited to two million dollars the first week, and subsequent withdrawals of two million weekly for three weeks. Furthermore, all withheld money would earn interest at the prevailing rates and deposited to Jonas's account.

“I never agreed to these terms.” Jonas was obviously angered that strings had been tied to the arrangement.

“Merely a reasonable precaution,” LaConte insisted. “Your money earns full interest. I'm certain you would do the same if you were the buyer.”

“But I'm not. There will be no restrictions.”

“Then there is no agreement.” LaConte put the glass in his pocket and slipped the papers back into his briefcase. He made a move toward the door where Tony stood, arms folded across his chest. LaConte turned to Jonas.

“If you have a change of mind, I will be available to meet another time.”

Jonas stared at the little man and past him to Tony and then to the lake and an approaching boat. “Bring me the damned papers.”

LaConte obeyed. Jonas signed two sets, retaining one and handing the other to LaConte, who now had the telephone in his hand.

“One final detail, Mr. Kalem. A call to the bank in Zurich will assure that money is transferred to your account by this time tomorrow.” Jonas nodded.

LaConte spoke to the operator in fluent Italian. And a moment later he issued a stream of instructions in perfect French. “It is done. I will return tomorrow, and after you have confirmed that a deposit has been made to your account, I will take the drawing.”

He put on the white cap and started for the door and as he did so, the briefcase slipped from his hand and the papers scattered. “You are clumsy, LaConte,” he scolded himself. He reached down to retrieve the papers.

A van pulled off the road by the unused gate high over
Il Diodario
. The doors opened and nine men leaped out, each dressed in green-andmustard yellow combat uniforms. The leader pointed to the top of the wall and barked a brief command. One of the men held a length of thick rope, a grapnel attached to an end. He threw the hook over the wall, then pulled the rope taut. In turn, each man scrambled up the rope, then dropped onto the other side. The last over pulled up the rope and let it fall to the ground, where another coiled and concealed it in the brush.

They huddled around their leader. Three carried Pietro Beretta BM59 Alpine rifles, the others had sidearms. Below them was
Il Diodario
; they looked down to the tiled roof, the hill so steep that in descending it, one feared falling on top of the mansion. Instructions were reviewed: five headed north, the others south toward the docks. They began a slow descent through the thick brambles.

A motor launch moved leisurely along the lake's edge. Two men dressed in white stood on the small afterdeck. One held a microphone and once each minute announced the ship's position. Above them a blue-and-white pennant fluttered in the mild breeze. They were flanked by two smaller craft that looked very much like pleasure boats. When they were directly abeam of
Il Diodario
, the man with the microphone gave instructions. One boat continued to a point a hundred yards offshore in front of the boathouses and anchored. A man appeared with a fishing pole and threw his line in the water. The launch took position off the dock, and the third boat cruised slowly in a wide-sweeping figure-eight pattern.

The hovercraft that normally rushed directly up the center of the lake came into view and sped past the villa to disappear beyond the Torno landing. It made a wide turn, slowed, then dropped into the water, where it bobbed in its own wake. The commuters and tourists had been replaced by men in white and blue uniforms.

A pontooned helicopter sat in the harbor at Cernobbio, its engine idling, the rotors moving imperceptibly. The pilot watched the second hand on his chronometer reach the top of the dial. He accelerated, then lazily the copter lifted, its nose tilted over, the blades clawing the warm air.

The distinctive sound of the helicopter grew louder. Eleanor tried picking it out of the sky. It was directly in front of the villa before she saw it coming in low over the water.

“Something's going on out there. Come look.”

Stiehl joined her at the window. She pointed to the dock. “Two boats are tied up and two more just sitting out there. Another is running in circles, and now a helicopter has joined in.”

“Who came in the second boat?”

“Two men. I've seen one of them before. He wears black and has gold buttons.”

“They beefed up security,” Stiehl said. “I counted five yesterday. One was still in his police uniform. Now you know why you can't go shopping.”

“I'm no threat to anyone if I'm off buying panty hose or having my hair done.”

“Jonas thinks you'd be a threat as soon as you leave
Il Diodario
.”

“Why? What am I supposed to know?”

Stiehl took hold of her hands. “It's what Jonas
thinks
you know. I'm going to find a way to get you away from here. But you can't ask questions.” He repeated in an almost threatening voice, “Is that clear? No questions.”

“It's clear that I'm a part of whatever's going on. I spent all those months finding paper and formulating inks and, if you won't tell me what you're doing, I'm damned well going to get it out of Jonas.”

She was genuinely angered, her face flushed and her eyes wide. Stiehl was sure she was also frightened. “Be careful what you ask Jonas.”

“I have a right to know. You tell me!”

He shook his head. “Understand this once and for all. You're not to know.” He kissed her.

“That helped. I'm frightened and it's an awful feeling.” She put her arms around him, hugging tightly. She slowly pulled away. “That's better.” She looked up at him. “I didn't have any breakfast and I'm starved. I'll fix lunch.”

“Great idea. Give me a few minutes and I'll be down to help.”