“I already own it,” Carina said. “Well?”
He handed the paper back. “Can’t help you.”
Carina tucked it back in her pocket and rose from the cushion. “Okay.”
“Just okay? You’re disappointing me, signorina. I expected you to be your usual pit bull self.”
“I don’t have time. I have to go talk to the Americans.” She headed for the door.
He called after her. “The Americans will have their hands full trying to get the power and water back on.” Carina kept walking. “They left the museum unguarded. Do you think they care about a petty thief like me?”
She put her hand on the doorknob. “I think they’ll care a great deal when they learn of your ties to Saddam Hussein.”
“Everyone in Iraq had ties to Saddam,” Ali said with a guffaw. “I was careful to leave no record of my dealings.”
“That doesn’t matter. The Americans have had itchy trigger fingers since 9/11. I’d suggest that you vacate this building before they target it with one of their smart bombs.”
Ali vaulted from his cushion and lumbered over. The sneer had been replaced by an expression of alarm. He reached out for the paper. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Carina pulled the list out of reach. “I’ve raised the ante. Make your calls now. Don’t tell me that the phones are out. I know you have your own ways to communicate. I’ll wait while you call your people.”
Ali frowned and snatched the list from her hand. He went over and reached under his cushion and pulled out a portable radio. He made several calls, using innocuous language that didn’t betray their purpose. After the last call, he clicked off the radio and set it down on the tea table.
“You will have what you want within forty-eight hours.”
“Make it twenty-four hours,” Carina said. “I can find my way out.” She opened the door and flung a final taunt over her shoulder. “You should stock up on your supply of flashlight batteries.”
“What do you mean?”
“While the idiots you hired were floundering around in the dark getting their fingers burned, they missed thirty cabinets with the museum’s best cylinder seals and tens of thousands of gold and silver coins. Ciao.” She gave a light laugh and disappeared through the curtains.
As Ali slammed the door behind her, a rug hanging on the wall pushed aside and a man stepped through a doorway into the room.
He was tall and powerfully built. His cherubic face seemed out of place with his cruel physique, as if his close-shaven head had been attached to the wrong body. Although there was plenty of room for his features on the broad face, eyes, nose, and mouth were squeezed close together, creating an effect that was childlike and grotesque at the same time.
“A formidable woman,” said the man.
Ali spat his words out. “Carina Mechadi? She is nothing but a UNESCO busybody who thinks she can push me around.”
The stranger glanced up at the television monitor and smiled mischievously as he watched the Humvee drive off with Carina and the marines. “From what I heard, she did exactly that.”
“I survived Saddam and I can survive the Americans,” Ali said with a fierce grin.
The man shifted his gaze back to the Arab. “I trust your difficulties won’t endanger the matter we were discussing before she interrupted our negotiations.”
“Not exactly.”
“What do you mean?”
“There’s been a glitch.”
The man moved closer until he loomed over the Iraqi. “What sort of glitch?”
“The Navigator has been sold to another buyer.”
“We ordered its removal from the museum, and paid you in advance. I came to Baghdad to close the deal.”
“A buyer has come forth with a higher bid. I’ll return your deposit. Perhaps I can persuade the buyer to part with the object, although the price is likely to be greater than the one we discussed.”