Sleight of Hand - By Phillip Margolin Page 0,9
America before hostilities broke out. One object she included in her cargo was the scepter.
“While she was living in New York her mansion was burglarized on more than one occasion despite her having alarm systems installed and security guards posted. She could never prove it, but she suspected that the scepter was the object of these home invasions. Then, during a vacation in Europe after the war, Marie was kidnapped and murdered. Another burglary occurred soon after, and an inside job was suspected. Marie had told my mother the history of the scepter and where it was hidden. When she went to the place where Marie had hidden it, the scepter was gone.
“When I was growing up, I heard many stories about Antoine’s adventures, and the scepter was often mentioned. When I was a teenager, my mother showed me the letters that Antoine had written to Marie. I became fascinated with the scepter and the Ottoman Empire. I majored in history in college and made several attempts to track down the scepter. All of them were unsuccessful.
“Then I read that a Turkish businessman who had been hard hit by the recession was auctioning off his art collection. Among the items in the catalog was a gold scepter. The picture reminded me of my mother’s description. I traveled to New York for the auction and confronted the head of the house. I showed him my proof that the scepter was stolen property but it wasn’t strong enough and he said the present owner was willing to risk a lawsuit.
“I hired an attorney but he told me that the scepter had been withdrawn from the auction. Soon after I heard rumors of a private sale. I also learned that Otto Pickering, a professor specializing in art of the Ottoman Empire, had authenticated the scepter. And that is where my trail ran cold.”
“Did you talk to Pickering?”
“Despite repeated attempts to set up a meeting, he has refused to see me.”
“What is it that you want me to do?”
“I am terrified that the scepter will disappear for good if I do not act quickly. Otto Pickering is a recluse. He lives on an island off the coast of Washington State.”
Laurent placed the attaché case on the table and opened it. Inside were stacks of cash, a cell phone, and an airline ticket.
“I have purchased a first-class ticket on a flight to Seattle that leaves at midnight, and I have chartered a boat to take you to the island. Can you leave tonight?”
“That’s awfully short notice.”
“Miss Cutler, if we do not act immediately the scepter may disappear forever. The twenty-five-thousand-dollar retainer in this attaché case should compensate you for any inconvenience you might suffer.”
Dana ran through the projects she had on her desk. Most of them would keep. More important, none of them involved Constantinople, French soldiers of fortune, the Khan-el-Khalili in Cairo, and a mysterious golden scepter. It was no contest.
“I’ll be on the plane,” Dana said.
Laurent’s shoulders had been hunched from tension and she’d been holding her breath. Now she exhaled and her shoulders sagged.
“I cannot thank you enough.”
“How do you want me to report to you?”
“My number is programmed into the cell phone in the attaché case.”
Dana stood up. “I’m going home to pack. I’ll give you an update as soon as I talk to Otto Pickering.”
Chapter Five
A torrential downpour pummeled the roof of the pilothouse of Emilio Leone’s fishing boat. Violent waves smashed into its hull, and Dana Cutler’s fingers gripped a handhold tightly as she fought to keep down the light meal she’d eaten for breakfast. Earlier on Friday morning, Dana had driven to a dockside café in a seaside town thirty miles north of Seattle. When she walked into the restaurant, Captain Leone was working on a cup of black coffee. He was bundled up in a pea jacket and knit cap. A thick black beard concealed a lot of his face, and a black patch covered his right eye. Dana thought he would have been perfectly at home on a pirate ship. Leone was not enthusiastic about sailing in a storm, but Margo Laurent’s money had changed his mind, if not his surly attitude. The captain spoke only when necessary, and then he communicated in terse sentences or angry grunts.
Another wave crashed across the bow and the boat fell fast and hard into a trough before miraculously rising. Dana had seen the wave coming and had braced for the shock. It was freezing cold in the pilothouse but