of
Islam viewed the infidel-marrying princess—had decided to devote
her life to spiritual matters. What was more, he would make certain
that word ultimately reached the princess as to exactly who had
purchased the ring. He knew that her fury would be that of a woman
scorned.
Ram got to his feet. At a marble-topped Louis
XIV gilt console that served as a bar, he poured himself an
Armagnac, then lit a thin Dutch cigarillo. In the Louis XVI mirror
over the console, he looked at his reflection. His black hair was
tinged with the slightest silvery gray at the temples, but he
thought it only made him more distinguished. His honey skin was
barely marked with the signs of age. His dark eyes flashed
youthfully, and the musculature of his gym-toned body was evident,
even under the custom-made suit he wore. He finally tore himself
away from this picture of polished perfection and sat back down at
his desk. His mind swirled with the changes about to take place in
his life, then inevitably went back in time to the other
transactions involving the emeralds and his subsequent recovery of
the stones.
The brooch had been the first piece to find a
buyer. Costas Stephanides, a Greek of immense wealth, was a regular
customer of the shop. When he summoned Levant to Athens or one of
his Aegean Island retreats, the old man would board one of the
Greek's private jets and take a hoard of his most exquisite pieces
to Greece for the magnate's personal inspection. On one such
occasion, Jules had been ill and had sent Ram, who took with him
all of the reset emeralds. After the jet had landed in Mykonos, a
Land Rover had met him and taken him directly to the Greek's
hilltop mansion near Aghios Stephanos. From this perch overlooking
nearly all of Mykonos and five other surrounding islands, Costas
Stephanides and his mistress, the actress Marina Koutsoukou, had
selected three pieces of jewelry, among them the emerald
brooch.
'To wear on my turbans, darling,' the actress
had cooed seductively as her large dark eyes blatantly swept over
Ram's handsome body, despite her lover's watchful proximity.
When Stephanides died a short three years
later, a bitter battle over his estate ensued, and the brooch had
gone on the auction block as 'property of a lady' at Christie's.
The tempestuous actress desperately needed cash to help pay her
legal fees, but didn't want anyone to know how dire her situation
really was. Thus, the brooch was auctioned anonymously. Ram had
been the high bidder, of course, and put the brooch in the vault,
where it still remained.
The bracelet had been bought by an
Argentinian general for his beautiful wife, Dorisita. 'It's the
same green as in my new Givenchy dinner suit,' his flame-haired
wife had pronounced. Sadly, Dorisita was to have it in her
possession for less than two years. The dictatorship in which her
husband served an important role was overthrown by another junta,
and the general and Dorisita barely managed to escape to their
high-rise penthouse on Brickell Avenue in Miami. The luxurious
apartment was a considerable comedown from their baroque mansion in
Buenos Aires and the 180,000-acre estancia where they'd raised
cattle and bred polo ponies in the country. But they had their
lives at least, unlike the thousands of the general's victims whose
blood he had shed in his native country. Cash was in relatively
short supply, however, and the general contacted Sotheby's and sent
the bracelet to auction. Secrecy was essential in this case, too,
and the bracelet was sold as 'property of a lady,' as the brooch
had been at Christie's. The ever watchful Ram recognized the
bracelet immediately and was the high bidder at auction. Thus, the
bracelet was stowed away in the vault, where it shared a small
compartment with the brooch.
Snapping out of his reverie, Ram stubbed out
his cigarillo in the malachite ashtray on his desk and took a sip
of the Armagnac. He relished its warmth on his palate and the fiery
trail it made to his stomach.
Islam viewed the infidel-marrying princess—had decided to devote
her life to spiritual matters. What was more, he would make certain
that word ultimately reached the princess as to exactly who had
purchased the ring. He knew that her fury would be that of a woman
scorned.
Ram got to his feet. At a marble-topped Louis
XIV gilt console that served as a bar, he poured himself an
Armagnac, then lit a thin Dutch cigarillo. In the Louis XVI mirror
over the console, he looked at his reflection. His black hair was
tinged with the slightest silvery gray at the temples, but he
thought it only made him more distinguished. His honey skin was
barely marked with the signs of age. His dark eyes flashed
youthfully, and the musculature of his gym-toned body was evident,
even under the custom-made suit he wore. He finally tore himself
away from this picture of polished perfection and sat back down at
his desk. His mind swirled with the changes about to take place in
his life, then inevitably went back in time to the other
transactions involving the emeralds and his subsequent recovery of
the stones.
The brooch had been the first piece to find a
buyer. Costas Stephanides, a Greek of immense wealth, was a regular
customer of the shop. When he summoned Levant to Athens or one of
his Aegean Island retreats, the old man would board one of the
Greek's private jets and take a hoard of his most exquisite pieces
to Greece for the magnate's personal inspection. On one such
occasion, Jules had been ill and had sent Ram, who took with him
all of the reset emeralds. After the jet had landed in Mykonos, a
Land Rover had met him and taken him directly to the Greek's
hilltop mansion near Aghios Stephanos. From this perch overlooking
nearly all of Mykonos and five other surrounding islands, Costas
Stephanides and his mistress, the actress Marina Koutsoukou, had
selected three pieces of jewelry, among them the emerald
brooch.
'To wear on my turbans, darling,' the actress
had cooed seductively as her large dark eyes blatantly swept over
Ram's handsome body, despite her lover's watchful proximity.
When Stephanides died a short three years
later, a bitter battle over his estate ensued, and the brooch had
gone on the auction block as 'property of a lady' at Christie's.
The tempestuous actress desperately needed cash to help pay her
legal fees, but didn't want anyone to know how dire her situation
really was. Thus, the brooch was auctioned anonymously. Ram had
been the high bidder, of course, and put the brooch in the vault,
where it still remained.
The bracelet had been bought by an
Argentinian general for his beautiful wife, Dorisita. 'It's the
same green as in my new Givenchy dinner suit,' his flame-haired
wife had pronounced. Sadly, Dorisita was to have it in her
possession for less than two years. The dictatorship in which her
husband served an important role was overthrown by another junta,
and the general and Dorisita barely managed to escape to their
high-rise penthouse on Brickell Avenue in Miami. The luxurious
apartment was a considerable comedown from their baroque mansion in
Buenos Aires and the 180,000-acre estancia where they'd raised
cattle and bred polo ponies in the country. But they had their
lives at least, unlike the thousands of the general's victims whose
blood he had shed in his native country. Cash was in relatively
short supply, however, and the general contacted Sotheby's and sent
the bracelet to auction. Secrecy was essential in this case, too,
and the bracelet was sold as 'property of a lady,' as the brooch
had been at Christie's. The ever watchful Ram recognized the
bracelet immediately and was the high bidder at auction. Thus, the
bracelet was stowed away in the vault, where it shared a small
compartment with the brooch.
Snapping out of his reverie, Ram stubbed out
his cigarillo in the malachite ashtray on his desk and took a sip
of the Armagnac. He relished its warmth on his palate and the fiery
trail it made to his stomach.
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