The Angel of Eden (8 page)

L
oki's head jerked up when the security buzzer sounded. I pressed the intercom. “Yes?”

“Lady here to see you,” the security guard said. “Says she has an appointment.”

I didn't have to ask her name. I considered telling the guard not to let her up, but reasoned that part of keeping Strauss sweet would be to cooperate with Bennet.

“I brought a peace offering,” she said as she shrugged off her coat and handed me a big brown bag and the umbrella I'd lent her. “Have you eaten yet? I got a feast from Peking Duck House.”

She was wearing another miniskirt. Perilously short, but this time she wore black tights, so I had the feeling of being cheated. On her feet were pert little ankle boots.

“There are chopsticks and paper plates inside.” As she turned to set the packages on the coffee table, she spotted Loki. “Oh! I didn't know you had a dog.”

“Why? Are you allergic?” I said hopefully.

She laughed. “No.” She cocked her head to one side. “What happened to her? She's kind of different looking. What strange eyes.”

“We think she was hit by a car. And I'm fostering her until I can find her a permanent home.”

“Can I pet her?” She squatted down and Loki's tail flopped when Bennet scratched under her chin.

“Why don't you come with me while I take her out? I won't be long. We can keep the food warm in the oven.”

It was a boon to have Madison Square so close by. Jemmy's Dog Run near Twenty-fourth was considered one of the best in the city although I didn't dare let Loki in to mingle with the Portuguese water dogs and boxers yet. Still sedated, she was too dozy to fight the leash very hard, but she clearly hated it. Bennet sensibly suggested I carry her until she was stronger and had a chance to get used to the idea. When we reached the park, I set her down with the leash attached until she did her business. Then I carried her home again, garnering more than a few titters from other dog walkers.

When we returned, the aroma of steaming Chinese food filled the apartment. I opened a bottle of chilled chardonnay and scrounged a candle from the kitchen, set it on a saucer, and dimmed the lights. Bennet knelt to pull the takeout from the oven. “We've got Szechuan scallops with bean curd, Grand Marnier prawns, veggie spring rolls, string beans with minced pork, and of course, Peking duck. We're all set,” she said.

My stomach almost clapped in approval. We took our seats. Bennet placed her phone beside her plate. “The audio recorder's on,” she said when she saw me glance at it. “I never got a chance to interview you before and I should get started.” She cocked an eye at me. “That's okay with you, isn't it? Strauss said you'd agreed.”

“As long as you can understand me with my mouth full— go ahead.”

When she grinned, I noticed what full, shapely lips she had. “You've been to Iraq twice, in 2003, in search of ancient treasures looted by thieves. Tell me about that.”

The shrimp I'd just swallowed set my throat on fire. I downed some wine and tried to get my voice back. “The first time I was hunting for a clay tablet created by an Old Testament prophet named Nahum. My brother had tried to protect it, to stop it from being looted during the catastrophe at the Iraq Museum. It led to a fabulous find associated with a king I'd always thought was more of a legend than a reality.”

“That sounds fascinating!” Bennet exclaimed. “One of the Mesopotamian kings?”

“That has to remain my secret for the time being. Others were involved and they'd be in danger if I revealed too much.”

Bennet sighed. “Can't tell you how many times I've heard a version of that. Someone hires you to tell their life story and then all you get from them is the vanilla, not the juicy stuff.”

“Except I didn't hire you—let's not forget that.”

Bennet had brought a bottle of Semper Fi Marine Corps Hot Sauce. “They named it that because it's so hot it'll make you stand to attention.” She chuckled as she shook some onto her plate, heaped so full the food almost spilled over the edge. I gestured with my chopsticks. “No need to hoard, you know. I'm good at sharing.”

“Sorry, I'm starving.”

“The second time I was after a seventeenth-century anthology of fairy tales that I'd bought at auction for a client. It was stolen from me.”

“Neat. Written by the Grimm brothers?”

“Almost two hundred years before them, penned by a poet and courtier from Naples. He included a number of the fairy tales we're familiar with, except the originals were darker and more sensual. Some were based on real life. Any idea who Snow White's prince actually was?”

Bennet looked up. “Seriously?”

“Phillip II of Spain before he was made king. Amazing, isn't it?”

“Did you keep a record of your experiences?”

“Only on my second trip, a journal, of sorts.”

Her face lit up. “Could I have a look at it?”

“I'd have to go through it first. Other people were involved. An Italian woman and an American soldier. I'd want to keep their side of the story private.”

“You could ask them. I've found people are usually flattered when I tell them I'll be writing about them.”

A shudder ran through me, thinking of those two. Dina, her raven cloud of hair and pale, beautiful face. And Nick Shaheen, the man who'd fended for himself on the streets of Baghdad as a child and ended up as a respected U.S. military intelligence officer. Dead now.

“What was it like in Iraq, trying to cope in the middle of a war?”

“The military was everywhere of course, but when I was there, in the late summer and fall of 2003, the insurgency hadn't really got off the ground yet. Hellish in another way, though. The worst part was the toll on ordinary citizens, going months without clean water or electricity. On the streets you'd see people with horrible injuries. They looked shell shocked. Parts of the city lay in ruins. It would have broken my brother's heart to see it.

“I remember a fellow I came across outside my hotel. Noticing I was a Westerner, he came up to me. He intended me no harm. He
said he'd once been a university professor. His home had been leveled by a bomb and he no longer had a job. He asked me, politely, why the war had happened. I had no answer for him.”

Over the rest of dinner, I sketched out some of the more dangerous episodes I'd faced. Bennet gave me all her attention. Eventually I leaned back and checked the time. “First class food. Thanks. But it's late. Need to think about getting you home. I can drive you if you want.”

“Oh, it's okay thanks. I have a car. No nightcap, then?” She got to her feet reluctantly.

I stood up. “Early start for me tomorrow. What about you? Do you have a long drive ahead? You never did say where you live.”

Her cheeks colored slightly. “New Jersey.”

I put Loki back on her towel bed in the kitchen and threw together a makeshift barrier. There wasn't much she could chew on in the kitchen.

“Full disclosure,” Bennet said as we walked toward the underground lot on Sixth where she'd parked her car. “My family is acquainted with Strauss. That's why I got the job. Just didn't want you to think I'd been hiding anything from you.”

“Well, that's the way things usually work. People prefer to hire someone who's a known quantity. But I appreciate your letting me know.”

As we reached the lot's entrance Bennet turned to me. “Thanks for seeing me this far. I can manage from here.”

“I'll come down with you. There aren't many people around at this time of night.” She was nervous about something and I wondered why.

“Where's your car?” I asked when we arrived at her floor.

“Just over there.” She pointed vaguely to the northeast corner, blew me a kiss, and then hastened away. I caught up with her just
as she was unlocking a battered Chevrolet hatchback. Through the windows I could see that the back seat had been folded down to accommodate a makeshift bed with two plump white pillows and a pink blanket thrown over a creased white sheet. A couple of satchels had clothes spilling out of them. Empty fast-food containers sat on the dash.

“You're living in your car?” I tried to cover my surprise.

Bennet's cheeks flamed red. “It's just temporary. Until I find a new place to rent.”

“How long is temporary?”

She looked away, avoiding my eyes. “A month or so.”

“And where do you park when you're sleeping?”

“An RV campground in New Jersey. As soon as Strauss pays me for this job I'll find a place.”

I took her arm. “Get one of those bags and pack some overnight things. You're coming back with me.”

“Oh no. Really, it isn't necessary.”

“It's dangerous for you to stay alone like that. No arguments. At least for tonight. When is Strauss paying you?”

“He won't give me anything until he's seen the first draft.”

“Okay. We'll just have to work something out. But you're not sleeping in this car.”

It was an impetuous decision on my part, but I was genuinely concerned for her safety. I wondered why her family hadn't helped her with money; maybe there'd been a falling out? I still didn't trust her, though. After all, she was working for Strauss—who knew if she wasn't part of some undisclosed agenda? And she'd manipulated Evelyn, however sweetly. I wasn't concerned about the valuable artworks I had in the apartment—they'd all been photographed, documented, and insured. She wouldn't get very far if she took anything. And if she did turn out to be more enemy than friend, I figured I'd be better off keeping a close eye on her.

After Bennet threw some things in a satchel and relocked the car, I marched her back to my place. I gave her some sheets and blankets and she fixed up a bed on my sectional sofa.

“I'm going to hit the sack,” I said. “Make yourself comfortable.”

She looked up at me as if I'd just saved her life. “This is really decent of you, John. I'm totally grateful.”

“No worries.” I gave Loki her medication with some small pieces of beef I'd cut up and she gobbled them down.

Normally I didn't wear anything to bed, but on this occasion I put on some lounging pants and a silk robe I'd bought in London.

The bedroom door cracked open and Bennet peeked in. “Thanks again. I owe you one.”

“Don't mention it. Sleep well.”

After falling into a deep slumber I woke sometime around three in the morning with the light still on and Bennet snuggled up to my back. She had one arm thrown around my waist and was snoring softly. Was it too cold in the living room?

I responded quite predictably to having a woman in bed with me, but Loki, even with her cast on, had somehow managed to clamber up on my other side and now lay curled up with her wet nose pressed against my abs. She whimpered and stiffened her legs when I tried to move her onto the floor, so, reluctantly, I gave up.

My two stray girls. Funny, I mused, how in the space of a day I'd gone from strict bachelorhood to a strange form of domestic bliss.

Thirteen

February 17, 2005

I
rose early, and had already made coffee and toast by the time Bennet sashayed into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes. No miniskirt today; she'd thrown on jeans and a long-sleeved sweater. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail. Loki wagged her tail in greeting.

“Loki saved your virtue last night because she insisted on sleeping with me too,” I joked.

“Sorry—I was freezing on that couch. The covers kept falling off.” Perhaps to hide her embarrassment, she quickly changed the subject. “What's on the agenda for today?”

“I want to visit Yersan, a man Tricia Ross told me harassed her about Strauss's artifacts. He sells antiquities and religious items. There's no phone number listed on his website, just an address and his store hours, so we'll have to take a chance and drop in on him.”

“How did this Yersan find out about Ross in the first place?”

I told Bennet about the query Tricia had put out on the listserv. “Have a bite to eat while I take Loki out and then let's vamoose.
After we see Yersan, I made an appointment to visit the Conjuring Arts Research Center. I want to get some background on both Strauss and Helmstetter.”