Emerald (11 page)

Seated behind a cluttered desk sat a white coat covering a slender body that looked as if it would snap in two if a strong wind blew against it. Dr. Yang’s oversize head was completely bald and shined as a polished knob of teak. Large eyes peered at Tam through heavy glasses and the skin on his face looked more like old parchment.

“Sit down. I understand from my old friend, White Paper Fan, that this assignment for the Tong may be your least assignment. If this is so, and I have no reason to doubt it, I presume that you will do everything in you possibly can to complete your little project. The emerald is the key to my new healing hospital and I must have that stone soon so the hospital will open on time.”

Tam interrupted, “Why do you need a gem in order to open your hospital, or whatever you call it?”

“It’s really none of your business, Mr. Tam, but since you ask I will tell you. The miracle healing process that I have spent my lifetime researching and perfecting is based on the ancient understanding of the healing properties of a mineral called beryl that when colored green by trace amounts of chromium and sometimes vanadium is commonly known as emerald. Emerald brings life, nourishment, and healing to the physical body. It floods the physical body with the green ray’s life-giving energy and gradually neutralizes the disharmonies that cause disease. If enough emerald is worn, it also works on healing the mental and emotional causes of physical illness. By strengthening your physical body’s weakest link, emerald uplifts, strengthens, and vitalizes your body as a whole, making it easier for you to open to higher states of consciousness. Therefore the Wittelsbach Emerald will set a new standard for healing in my Yang Life Institute and through out the world. That’s all you need to know. Just get that emerald for me, or you will wish your had remained in Honk Kong. I might add that even though White Paper fan has entrusted you with the necessary documentation and papers to bid on the emerald at the auction in Geneva, I really don’t trust you, and I have decided that there will be someone around you at all times keeping my eye on you. Do you understand, Mr. Tam?”

Tam wasn’t easily frightened, but this man sent shivers down his spine. He wasn’t sure if it was how self assured he was, his obvious relation to the Tong, or those ebony eyes that seemed to be dead yet seemed to burn straight through him. Tam shuttered.

“Now go back to Geneva, Mr. Tam, and remember this old Chinese proverb: Not only can water float a boat, it can sink it also. Leave quickly; I have much work still to do.”

T
he telephone between the two beds jangled. Miriam retreated to the bathroom while David lifted the receiver to his ear and listened for a moment. He put his hand over the phone and asked, “Miriam, Servette’s driver is in the lobby. Are you ready?”

“Give me five, David.”

“We’ll be down in ten minutes.”

Fifteen minutes later, David and Miriam entered the lobby. A uniformed chauffer greeted them in one of the deepest voices they had ever heard, saying he would pull the car up front and walked out.

Half an hour later, the black Peugeot turned off the main thoroughfare and stopped in front of a large filigreed wrought iron gate. With no apparent signal from the residence, the gate swung open. The car proceeded toward a large apartment building on their left driving slowly on the circular drive through gardens that looked more like a botanical garden than a landscaped apartment complex. Their driver stopped the car under the portico of the building, got out and opened the door on Miriam’s side and then walked around to open the door for David. Without a word, he ushered them through the large ornate double-glass doors and stopped in front of the elevator. He pushed one of the buttons.

“Inspector Servette will meet you when you leave the lift,” the driver said in that deep voice. With a slight bow, he turned with military precision and proceeded back toward the car.

“Not much of a conversationalist,” David commented as the elevator closed.

“Sound like someone else I know,” Miriam said with a straight face.

The small elevator carried them up and when the doors opened, there standing on a white marble floor was Inspector Servette, dressed in ecru, linen slacks, a black silk shirt, the top two buttons undone, and black paten loafers without socks.

“Welcome to my home.”

The Inspector bent slightly and kissed the back of Miriam’s hand. Then, giving David a firm handshake, and led them into a glorious apartment filled with the most exquisite antiques they had ever seen. When they entered the living room, another man rose to greet them.

“David and Miriam, I’d like you to meet Mr. Max Bennett. Max is my dearest friend, one of the best undercover people I know. He has his hand on the pulse of every shady matter I need to know in this city. He speaks half-a-dozen languages, holds black belts in several martial arts and is the only person I know who can out-shoot me on the pistol range.”

“It is very nice to meet you, Mr. Bennett.” David reached out and warmly shook the hand extended to him. He could tell just by the grip that this was a man to reckon with. “From that introduction I certainly don’t want to be your enemy.”

“Max has agreed to be, how should I say, your ‘tourist guide’, while you are in Geneva. He will be with you constantly, in your hair, under your skin, even though you might not see him. I thought this would be a good time to get acquainted.”

Max turned. “Miriam, what a lovely name. Miriam was the daughter of Moses and a prophetess in the Old Testament, wasn’t she?”

“My namesake, Mr. Bennett, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Greetings completed, Inspector Servette indicated that they should sit, and then rang a small silver bell. A man several inches taller than the inspector flowed rather that walked into the room. He was the color of ebony and dressed in a long flowing red, blue and black caftan. His head was shaved, but the most remarkable feature was the one eye that was completely sealed shut by a dark diagonal scar that ran from his hairline to the bottom of his nose.

Servette relayed their drink orders to the tall African, and when the striking man left the room, said to the Mossad duo, “Let me tell you a little about my friend, Josef, there. Almost twenty years ago, I was on a mission to Sudan. I won’t go into detail, but in the heat of a, shall I say, most difficult situation, I rescued Josef from a sadistic torturer, and he has been my grateful shadow ever since. He lost his tongue as well as the eye in that conflict, so he can’t speak. But he sees everything with that right eye of his. There is no one I’d rather have on my side in any difficult situation. He also will be working with you along with Max here.”

The African returned to the room, served their drinks, and placed a tray of hors d’oeuvers on the large round coffee table in the middle of the room.

“Thank you, Josef. Many of these delicacies are specialties of the Sudan. Be assured that if Josef fixed them, they will be delicious. Help yourself, please. And one more thing - - - let’s not talk any business until after dinner - - - I can assure you, it will be a very special dinner.”

After an hour filled with lively conversation covering antiques, skiing trips to Zermatt, several people they knew in common and the weather in both Geneva and Israel, a gong rang quietly and Servette announced, “Josef is ready for us. I hope you are ready for Josef.”

Inspector Servette ushered them into the dining room and Miriam gasped. “You shouldn’t have gone to all this trouble for us, Inspector.”

“Nonsense, my dear, it wasn’t any trouble at all. You see, Josef is so bored with our life here in Geneva that he positively begs me to have dinner parties several times a month just so he can have something to do. Miriam, please sit here, beside Max. David, sit there opposite, and I will sit here opposite the place set for my wife, bless her departed soul. Please forgive that little indulgence of mine, but when her place is set, I feel that she is still here with me.”

The two large silver candelabras festooned with dozens of candles cast a dream-like quality into the elegant room. Like a shadow Josef entered the room and removed the silver service plates from in front of each person and left the room. In a moment he returned, pushing a teacart of china plates. Just before placing the first plate in front of Miriam, he handed Servette a small card. Servette read it aloud, “Madame and Monsieur. Mussels baked with cream and Pineau de Charentes.”

David shot a quick look at Miriam who raised an eyebrow in response. He asked, “Does Josef always cook like this, Inspector?”

“Not always. Josef is just as adept at a bag-lunch as he is at superb cuisine. He is quite unusual. Fine cooking is just one of a great many of his talents. He can split an apple at 50 paces with a throwing knife and is equally lethal with a pistol, rifle, sword or blowgun. He has some advanced degree black belts in several of the martial arts and even a degree in Philosophy from the University of Geneva. David looked at Miriam in amazement.

David looked up from the last remaining mussel on his plate, and with a laugh said, “With all Josef’s talents - - - to say nothing of Max’s - - - why did you call us to help you with the murders?”

“Please don’t be offended. I think we really could have taken care of the situation at hand by ourselves, but, according to the instructions from Interpol, The Office was to be contacted, if certain criterion arose. It did and we called. You are here, and we thank you for your help. We will certainly be most cooperative.”

David’s “No offense taken….” was cut off by the arrival of Josef and the serving cart. After removing the mussel plates he began serving the second course.

“Josef, before you serve us again, show our guests the special features of your cart which you built yourself.”

He smiled and leaned over the serving cart. Suddenly he straightened up holding a small pistol in one hand and a wicked looking throwing knife in the other.

“Where did those come from?” Miriam exclaimed.

“Josef has maybe too much free time,” Servette answered, with a rueful smile. “He finds the most interesting places to hide his little play things. That, combined with an obsessive amount of curiosity, has made him a very unusual person. He has never had to use his fancy serving cart, but as you can see, it has its possibilities. Okay, Josef, you may proceed.”

Josef handed the Inspector another small card, which he read to his guests, “Fish ragout with garlic croutons.”

Max broke the silence of the moment. “I understand that you have been after this man you call, the Dagger for some time.”

David responded. “Well, not us personally, and it’s been several years since his name surfaced in connection with a series of killings throughout Germany. Whoever was doing these acts of brutality was quite anonymous until someone in our research department detected a certain pattern. Each of these stabbing victims was also mutilated with slash marks somewhere on their bodies, hence the nickname, the Dagger. Then, as I said, someone going over the details of these killings remembered a number of killings that had happened years before in the same style. Over the years we thought we had isolated several persons who might be our killer. At the same time we were investigating a rather maniacal group that was a small German underground terrorist splinter organization. On paper and on the door of their office in Munich are the words Government Retirement System. However, we can’t uncover any business of theirs that has anything to do with government or retirement. We were able to infiltrate a local cell of that group in Berlin, but we found their orders were being given from someone in Munich, but we have never been able to crack that Munich cell. That group is suspected to be behind a number of these murders, because all of the victims were Jewish. Now we think that the person known as “the Dagger” was this killer, but since then he seems to have broken ties with that group and struck out on his own. We now believe he contacts various terrorist groups for special services and sometimes for safe houses, but usually he is on his own. We have no photographs of him outside of a computer-aged photo when he was in his early teens, some thirty years ago, that one Levi sent you that you used in your newspaper. We also have a couple of artist’s sketches done from surviving victims, but that’s not much to go on. We don’t even know that those near-victims have really seen the man we’re after or perhaps, a disguise. This is one of the reasons he is so hard to run him down.”

The dining group was so intent on David’s words they hardly noticed that Josef had removed their fish plates and handed the Inspector a third card.

“Ready for roast squab with sauterne sauce?” Servette asked.

Miriam looked down at the plate placed before her, “It’s simply too elegant to disturb. Inspector, how can we ever repay you for this magnificent repast?”

“Really, my dear, there is no need. I would much rather eat with guests than with one of Josef’s, how do you say, TV dinners.” Everyone laughed.

“And while I have the floor, I must insist. Call me Piet, instead of Inspector Servette, at least in friendly company, comprenez-vous?”

“Yes, Piet, I understand,” Miriam replied.

He continued, “You can watch to see if your little bird will fly off your plate if you wish, but I’m going to make damn sure mine doesn’t.” With those remarks, he attacked the squab on his plate with great delight.

While eating, Piet turned to David and said, “I know I said no business until after dinner, but this story is getting very interesting. He then asked, “The person you have been tracking has not been active for several years. Why do you think he has started killing again- - -this time in Switzerland?”

“That is a mystery to us also, Piet. We learned a long time we cannot predict what he might do or be surprised at what he does. One of his patterns is he never seems to have a pattern, except, for those mutilating slash marks, of course. My suspicion is that some of our agents have been even face-to-face with him on at least one occasion.”

Josef returned to the dining room. “Not more food!” Miriam exclaimed with pleasure.