Turned to Stone (13 page)

17

Madrid

Paloma had just ordered a decaf from the waiter when Amanda approached, looking stricken. “Amanda, what’s the matter?”

“Can I sit down?” She could barely get the words out.

Her concern growing, Paloma gestured toward the empty chair at her corner table in the museum café. “Of course. Are you all right? You look like you’re about to cry.”

Amanda wiped her nose as she sat down. “They’ve kidnapped Hugo.”

She spoke in such a low, weak voice, Paloma thought maybe she hadn’t heard right. “What did you say?”

“When I got home last night, the neighbor who watches him wouldn’t answer the door. I called but she didn’t answer, so I got her spare keys and let myself in.” Amanda’s voice was strained. “I found her tied up in the closet, with tape over her mouth. She said a man had taken Hugo.”

“Oh my God. What man?”

“I don’t know. He told her he was from maintenance or something. Señora Julia never lets anyone in, but this time she opened the door and . . .” Amanda started to moan.

“Okay. Deep breaths.” Paloma pulled a pack of tissues out of her handbag and handed one to her. “What do the police say?”

“I haven’t called them.”

“You haven’t called the police? Amanda, why?”

“I was told not to. The people who have Hugo . . . they want something from you.”

Paloma straightened, as if her spine had suddenly turned to iron. “From me?”

“Right after it happened, Oscar Preston called. He told me someone had taken my son and said they won’t let him go until I give them something in exchange.”

“Preston?” Paloma exclaimed. “That son of a bitch?”

“He was very clear. They want you to hand over your document.”

Paloma was not the kind of person who could easily hide her thoughts or feelings. Her face reddened and her eyes grew damp. She felt her breathing and her heartbeat speed up. “My document? I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes you do. For a week you’ve done nothing but go back and forth between your place and the museum. I’m assuming this is about that project that Ricardo Bosch assigned you.”

“Yes, I’ve picked up some old work again as part of the application process. What’s so unusual about that? If you want to get anywhere in life you have to work for it. I don’t understand what—”

“Don’t you see?” Amanda was crying now. “If I don’t hand over whatever it is you’re working on by Wednesday, I’ll never see my son again.”

“That’s what you think.” Paloma stood in a rage and grabbed Amanda’s hand. “Let’s go and see him now. We’ll call the police, get Hugo back, and that son of a bitch will go to jail.”

“It’s not that simple.” Amanda pulled her hand away. “He doesn’t have anything to do with it. They’re blackmailing him to get me to do the same to you.”

“How can you believe that?” Paloma reluctantly sat back down. “Preston wants that job and there’s nothing he won’t do to get it. He even searched my apartment.”

“Are you serious?”

“The day of my meeting with Ricardo. When I got home I noticed that someone had opened the door and rummaged through my things.”

“Did they take anything?”

“Some computer CDs, but most of those were empty. I asked Preston about it the next day, but he claimed he didn’t know anything about it. That bastard’s a professional liar.”

“Paloma, please. You’re my friend. Why won’t you tell me what they’re looking for? Maybe we can find a solution together.”

“The only solution is to call the police.” This argument was beginning to remind Paloma of the one she’d had with Jaime a few days earlier.
What would Jaime do in this situation?
she wondered.

“I’m not going to call them! Preston told me not to, or—”

“Or what?”

“He says he isn’t the one who has Hugo, and I believe him, Paloma. If we report him, whoever really has Hugo will find out, and I can’t bear to think what they might do to him. It’s been hard enough convincing Señora Julia to keep quiet about this. They went into her home, attacked her, locked her in the wardrobe . . . Do you realize what she’s been through? These people are dangerous and I can’t afford to piss them off.”

The waiter arrived just then with the coffee Paloma had ordered. “One decaf?”

Paloma pressed her hand against her mouth and stood. As the waiter and Amanda looked on, she sprinted toward the restroom, bumping into a waitress who almost dropped her tray. In the bathroom, Paloma bent over the toilet and emptied her stomach. As she stared into the bowl, all she could picture was Oscar Preston’s face.

Jaime,
she found herself thinking again.
What would you do if you were here?

18

Piraeus

As he took stock of the huge number of crates in Vittorio Rosselli’s container, Jaime realized that the task ahead was not going to be easy. There must have been fifty crates, and all of them had to be opened, inspected, and reassembled with the utmost care.

Kraniotis and Amatriaín coordinated their efforts while the crates were removed from the container and placed on an enormous wooden table set up in the center of the hold. They were then unpacked by the Greek team, which also was responsible for photographing and measuring the artifacts, while Professors San Román and Andrade worked with Sonia Durán to compare them against the catalogue of stolen items. Jaime’s role consisted of taking notes and photos of the procedure in order to prepare a report, though he helped out with the physical tasks when his colleague needed him to.

As Amatriaín had foretold, the EHU had managed to detain the
Artemis
in port due to some problem with the engine. One of the ship’s engineers had facilitated the ruse after Inspector Kraniotis had claimed it was a “matter of national security”—and offered a substantial cash reward. The team now had time to inspect the goods away from the prying eyes of the freighter’s captain and crew, for whom both the intrusion and the delay were a genuine nuisance. To make up for the inconvenient holdup, the authorities had provided them with luxurious hotel accommodations, making it unnecessary for them to wait out the repairs in the ship’s uncomfortable cabins.

Jaime liked all of his coworkers, with the exception of Andrade, who wouldn’t take his eyes off Sonia Durán and was constantly approaching her and whispering some nonsense into her ear. Fortunately for Jaime, she largely ignored it. The expert in heritage management made Jaime’s blood pump a little faster, even though she spoke little and was focused more on her work than in building relationships of any kind with her coworkers. Mercedes San Román, for her part, possessed an energy and a readiness to help that Jaime found admirable. And he couldn’t help but feel impressed by Juliun Kraniotis, a strong man committed to his work, who also displayed both extraordinary professionalism and impeccable manners. Amatriaín, meanwhile, was about as friendly to the group as a rabbit is to a boa constrictor, but Jaime had grown accustomed to his dry and anxious personality.

Their work involved a great deal of effort and little satisfaction. After several hours’ toil, they hadn’t found a single match. The famous crucifix that had raised the suspicions of the EHU officers turned out to be nothing more than a near-perfect replica of the original stolen in Ravenna. The rest of the shipment included sculptures, paintings, and gold and silverwork, all with the necessary export papers. There seemed to be nothing out of the ordinary stored in the hold, and as the hours went by the team grew increasingly frustrated.

“This one’s clear, too,” said Professor San Román, confirming that the last piece in the twenty-third crate matched none of the items in the catalogue.

At eight in the evening just five crates were left to inspect. The team members were sweating and breathing heavily; many of them were stopping frequently to rub their eyes. Amatriaín wiped his brow with his sleeve, walked over to Kraniotis, and whispered something in his ear. The Athenian inspector gave him a quiet answer and Amatriaín turned to the team. “I think we should take a break.”

“That’s the best idea I’ve heard all day.” Professor San Román threw her notebook onto one of the crates and sat on the floor.

“We’re stopping?” Jaime asked in surprise. “But we’ve almost finished.”

Amatriaín shook his head. “We still have three hours of work and the ship doesn’t leave till tomorrow. I’ve just suggested to Juliun that we have dinner in the port to help us get our energy back.”

Kraniotis nodded. “You’ve been working yourselves to death. The least we can do is feed you.”

Professor San Román smiled. “I take it back. Now,
that’s
the best idea I’ve heard.”

Jaime would have preferred to get the job done as soon as possible, but it was true that everyone was tired and hungry. He shrugged. “You’re the boss.”

“Good. Let’s finish this crate and then get some dinner.”

After examining the final object, an eleventh-century ivory crucifix that Rosselli had obtained in a Paris auction, and verifying that it, too, did not appear in the catalogue of stolen artifacts, they washed their hands and headed to the port. The police car was waiting for them at the port’s exit and it delivered them to their hotel, where each of them enjoyed a well-deserved and badly needed shower. After freshening up, they strolled to a simple but nicely decorated harbor restaurant where the delicious wine, octopus, and fish drove the thankless work still ahead from their minds.

The restaurant was a big place, and it had charm: two floors decorated with nautical objects and reproductions of maritime antiquities. The quality of the food, the brisk service, and the friendly owner were among the reasons why the establishment was one of the most popular in the area.

Jaime sat at one end of the table, some distance away from the others, and enjoyed the flavors and aromas in silence. Back in El Burgo de Osma, he’d vowed to the cow spine that saved his life that he’d go vegetarian. He quickly decided that because prawns and clams had no vertebrae, they were fair game. He felt strangely at ease at this table in a restaurant by the sea, far from his attic apartment in Madrid, sitting alongside a bunch of virtual strangers. For the moment, he could forget all about the void he’d face when this was all over. He wished it didn’t have to end.

Something the others were saying caught his attention and brought him back to the present.

“The curse?” Kraniotis said. “Come on, Vicente. You can’t believe all that stuff.”

“I don’t,” replied Amatriaín. “But it’s something that seems eternally linked to the sculpture. Ask Azcárate.”

Everyone turned to look at Jaime, who felt a surge of heat in his chest at suddenly becoming the center of attention.

“Wow, Jaime.” Sonia Durán gave him a wry smile. “You’re an expert in ancient curses?”

“Me? Not that I know of.”

“Come on, Azcárate. Don’t be so modest,” Amatriaín said. “You’ve written tons of articles on paranormal phenomena: the temple cat, the Table of Solomon, that thing about Saint Fructus—and of course an article on the curse of Medusa. The extraordinary is your department.”

“Possibly,” Jaime replied. “But that doesn’t mean I believe in those things. Not all of them, anyway.”

Professor San Román made a small “O” with her mouth, as if she’d just remembered something. “Wait a minute: it is true. I read something about it. That sculpture carries a terrible curse.”

“What do you mean?” Andrade asked.

“I read it—that’s it! In that magazine,
Arcadia
! Were you the author?” Jaime gave a reluctant nod. “In the article you said that the statue has caused a number of deaths and a lot of misfortune throughout history.”

“Particularly in recent times.” Amatriaín peeled a prawn with this knife. At no point had he taken off his leather gloves. “From its first owner, Domenico Corsini, up to the security guard at the museum in Verona, there has been a trail of victims. It’s said that the spirit of the gorgon Medusa lives in the statue and brings misery to anyone who gets close to her.

“In Greek mythology, if you recall, Medusa started out as a beautiful woman who conceived two children with the god Poseidon in a temple devoted to Athena. The goddess didn’t take kindly to the situation and got revenge by turning her into a being so horrible, anyone who looked in her eyes would turn to stone. Perseus, son of Zeus and Danaë, supposedly killed her and cut off her head, and later gave Athena the head to place in the center of her shield.” Amatriaín smiled. “The creature we’re dealing with has been through a lot. It would seem advisable not to provoke her.”

Several of the others listened to Amatriaín with open mouths.

“It’s a terrifying story, Vicente,” Kraniotis said in a mocking voice. “Perhaps we should call off the operation?”

“Of course not, it’s just a legend. But we should be considering things from every angle.”

“Even superstitious ones?”

“Even those, Juliun. One thing that’s not based in superstition, however, is the very real death of the security guard at the museum in Verona. It doesn’t make sense, but he insisted he’d seen blue smoke that gradually devoured him—”

“That shouldn’t really come as a surprise,” Jaime interrupted. “You said yourself that the liqueur he drank was spiked with hallucinogenic mushrooms. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from my work, it’s that curses ‘from the other side’ have very tangible causes in the real world.”

He turned away from the conversation and quickly became lost in his thoughts again, which skipped back and forth between Medusa’s serpents and Paloma’s sleek bob. He looked up as someone sat down beside him.

“What is it? Are we boring you?”

His heart raced as he found himself looking into aquamarine eyes and a face that smiled in a cautious but friendly manner. He smiled back. “I was arranging my thoughts in alphabetical order.”

“I hope you’re not planning your escape. We’re all in this together, you know.”

“It’s no secret that we all expected this mission to end in disappointment.”

“Don’t worry. I’m used to working hard without any reward. It’s part of my job description.”

She spoke with an air of detachment that surprised Jaime. It reminded him somehow of Paloma, whose humanity seemed to fade when she was buried in her work. He was addicted to his job, too, but he also tried to enjoy himself as much as possible. Both women seemed to barricade their responsibilities away from their emotions. “What do you think of the boss?” Sonia lowered her voice so as not to be heard over the murmur of the other conversations.

“Amatriaín? The job’s too big for him. And his mood changes too much.”

“The others think so, too. And he doesn’t seem very at ease with Kraniotis.”

“Inferiority complex?”

“Rivalry. They get along on the surface, but I think it’s all show.”

Jaime thought she was probably right. Kraniotis called the shots in the operation, but he did it with style and efficiency. Amatriaín seemed intent on proving at all times that he was the one in charge.

“Why did you take this job?” Sonia asked. “You don’t seem very happy to be here.”

“A few reasons. Mostly because my boss asked me to.”

“I met her a while ago. Laura seems great. What are the others?”

“The other women?”

“The other reasons.”

They laughed and Jaime suddenly felt even less eager for the mission to end. “I don’t know—to break the routine. Because Amatriaín helped me unblock my bathroom. And because I knew you were coming.”

Sonia’s cheeks reddened. “Is that true?”

“As true as these clams are delicious.” Jaime figured it best not to continue too far along this path until their work was done, but the prospect of where it might lead certainly was an interesting one. “What about you? What brought you to this end of the Mediterranean?”

“Like you, the change of scenery. I was tired of spending all my time in that crypt they call an archive.”

“I can relate.” Jaime’s smile was sincere. “Before I started working at
Arcadia
I was an intern at the CHR’s library. I still have nightmares about the hours I spent underground searching for books. I went without sunlight for so long, I nearly turned into an insect.”

“I believe you.”

Just then Professor San Román called over to Sonia. As his companion excused herself and went back to her seat, Jaime came back to reality.

After their delicious meal, the restaurant’s owner tried to entice them to sample an herb liqueur, but both Amatriaín and Kraniotis declined the offer, despite the protests of the rest of the team. There was a brief discussion, but in the end professionalism won out over the desire to get drunk, and they headed back toward the ship.

Jaime’s spirits soared as he enjoyed the sea air, the sparkle from the streetlamps reflected on the water, and especially the company of the woman walking beside him. For now, he needed to focus on his work. But when they returned to Madrid, who knew what might happen? Maybe he’d have good reason to consider disobeying Isidro Requena’s order relating to Sonia Durán.

The walk was a short one. Sooner than he would’ve liked, they were back at the port and waving at the checkpoint guard.

Nobody noticed anything out of the ordinary about the
Artemis
, but Jaime was struck by the feeling that a dark aura had enveloped the ship, something strange and malevolent that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. The feeling grew as a cloud passed in front of the full moon and obscured it, as if in a Romantic landscape.

The ominous feeling gave way to cruel reality when they climbed down into the hold. There, they found Rosselli’s container open and part of its cargo spread over the floor.

Most of the artifacts were gone.