Saleem roared and roared, stomping around the gardens until his father was bent over in laughter. This happiness felt better. Saleem liked to see his father laugh.
He drew him close, into a hug. “Your grandfather died last night, an hour after he passed along the legacy to you. You must always keep him close, Saleem, in your heart. His love, and mine, will keep you pure. You are now a man of the Lanighan family. We will carry on where your grandfather left off. Somehow, we must find the missing stone and take back the Koh-i-Noor from the British. We must unite the three stones.
“One last thing, Saleem. There can be no personal gain from this quest. Always remember your role, your duty. No man himself may hold the power of the united stones. It will cause madness and despair. Only the land is capable of sheltering the diamond. If I do not succeed, and you do, you must swear to me you will see the diamond home.”
“I swear it, Father.”
And he meant every word, when he was eight years old.
Years later, when his father had fallen ill, he became frantic to obtain the two missing pieces. He commissioned thieves to steal the Koh-i-Noor from the Tower of London, but they failed again and again, until the British began to suspect who was behind it. Nor could he ever find the part of the diamond that reassembled itself after Queen Victoria’s final cut. He sent Saleem across the globe following dead leads, but the third stone always remained hidden.
At the end, when it was clear he wasn’t going to survive, he bade Saleem come to the hospital. Fragile from his illness, his skin paper white, he took Saleem’s hand in his.
“My son. I have failed. My failure means my death. I have no more time. You must dedicate yourself to the search. You know the power of the stones, and you will need it. I tell you now, bring them together and heal yourself.”
“I am fine, Father. I haven’t been sick since I was a boy.”
His father shook his head, pain flooding his eyes.
“You are not sick now, but you will be, for I have seen it. Find the third stone, Saleem, liberate the Koh-i-Noor from the British, and unite them. Only then will you save your own life.”
63
Geneva, Switzerland
Rue de Lausanne
Friday afternoon
Kitsune walked northwest through the city until she spied an anonymous street that backed to an elementary school. She followed the Rue de Navigation, through the turnstiles that accessed the walkway, stopping cars from interrupting the children at play in their schoolyard, then up a quiet one-way street.
She took a room at the Hotel Kipling, stashed her bag in the room’s safe, showered and dressed, then went next door to the Lord Jim Pub on Rue de Lausanne to have some food before the meeting with Lanighan. It was an English-style pub, full of afternoon revelers drinking microbrews and shouting their drunken opinions at a football match playing on all of the bar’s big-screen televisions. She ordered bangers and mash and wondered, as she had many times, if this would be her last meal. She saw Grant’s face and forced away the sadness and regret.
The food arrived. She forked warm mashed potatoes into her mouth, savoring the salty onion gravy, as authentically British as any she’d had near the River Thames.
She ate slowly, enjoying the meal.
Part of her preparation to steal the Koh-i-Noor diamond was to become an expert, to learn every single aspect of its storied history, even the lore. Especially the lore. She’d found deeper legends, ones she’d only half believed, rarely spoken of, long forgotten in the stone’s tragic path through documented history.