“Come on, Robert. I’m a journalist. I dig up information for a living.”
“So what did you dig up?”
“There have been a series of robberies,” she said.
“They’ve been in the news at home,” he said easily. “They’ve taken place in several countries. The Stedt Museum in London—”
“The Legvold collection in Stockholm. Van Werten in Frankfurt,” Lily finished.
“DeBruzkya is behind the robberies?” he asked.
“During one of our interview sessions, he told me about his interest in acquiring gemstones. I made a note but didn’t think anything about it. Then a few months later I heard about the robberies. I did a little digging, and sure enough, some of his top lieutenants were out of the country during each of the robberies. Later, I learned he’d acquired several of the gems for his collection. I know him well enough to assume it wasn’t by conventional means.”
Thunder rumbled outside. Robert saw her shiver but fought the urge to move closer to her. Lily reached behind the chair, pulled out a threadbare quilt and draped it over her shoulders.
“Two people were nearly killed last week when he hit the Gala Summit in D.C.,” he said. “One of them was a good friend of mine.”
“I read about it,” she said. “I’m sorry. I hope your friend is all right.”
He thought of Ethan and Kelly and almost smiled. “He’s doing just fine.”
“DeBruzkya is getting bolder and bolder.”
“He’s out of control.”
“Is that why you’re here?” She shot him a canny look.
Robert stared at her. “I’m here to inoculate children against disease. That’s all you need to know.”
She didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push it. “What troubles me most about this is that DeBruzkya doesn’t seem like the kind of man who would be interested in gemstones.”
“True. He’s more of a weapons of mass destruction kind of guy.” Robert frowned at the thought. “Even if he’s amassing these gems to finance his dirty little war, it doesn’t seem like his style.”
“There’s another bizarre twist that might help put the pieces together for you.”
“I can’t wait to hear it,” he said dryly.
“Have you ever heard of the Gem of Power?” she asked.
“I’ve heard enough to know it’s an old Rebelian legend that no one believes, including me.”
“Quite a few people do believe in this legend, particularly some of the older peasants from the southern mining region. The legend has been around for hundreds of years.” Leaning back in the chair, she brought her knees up to her chest and hugged them to her. “The last time I met with DeBruzkya, he mentioned this Gem of Power. I thought it was odd at the time, but now I’m not so sure it was odd at all.”
“DeBruzkya doesn’t strike me as a superstitious man.”
“Me, neither, but for some reason he appears to believe in this particular legend.”
“You’re kidding?”
She shook her head. “He started talking about it one day when we were having espresso at a café in Rajalla. At first I didn’t know where he was going with it. I’d been so involved with the freedom movement here that I hadn’t kept up with world events, so I didn’t know about the gem thefts.”
“What do the thefts have to do with an old legend?” Robert asked.
“I’m not sure, but I swear, Robert, that day I met with DeBruzkya and he talked about the legend, I think he believed it. I could see the fanaticism in his eyes.” The memory of fervor with which he told the legend made her shiver, and she pulled the quilt more tightly about her shoulders. “He was creeping me out.”
“What’s the legend about?”
“Something like ‘he who owns the stone will have the power to rule the world.’”
“Sounds good in theory, if you’re a nutcase. I don’t think DeBruzkya is a nutcase. Dangerous, definitely, but not a nut.”
“Maybe he’s going to use it to play upon the superstitions of the Rebelian people. You know, to control them.”
“Could be. He’s a control freak, but I don’t see how he could believe a legend would give him any kind of meaningful leverage.” He scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “What’s the story behind the legend?”
“I’ve heard it told in slightly different ways in different circles. The way DeBruzkya told it, the legend started some four hundred years ago when a Rebelian ruler had a huge stone set for his bride. Shortly after the birth of their first child, a son, she died after a long and terrible illness. Four generations of royal brides died the same way. Their deaths started to give the stone a bad rap as being cursed. The fifth-generation bride was a bit more shrewd than the others and decided she wasn’t going to be the next in line. She covertly sold the stone to a rich merchant who wanted to murder his wife. At that point, the stone disappeared into the Rebelian population. No one knows where it is.”
“What kind of stone?” he asked.
“No one knows.”