Free The Looters by Harold Robbins Page B

Henri Lipton, the London art dealer who had arranged the auction of the piece. But I returned her smile—much less dazzling—and gave it my best.
    “Well, the mask has been possessed by some famous people in history, all of whom it seemed to bring bad luck to. Semiramis was a Babylonian queen who became a heroine of legendary proportions—”
    “She wasn’t real?”
    That from the show intellectual, Dane. But actually, it was a good question.
    “As you know, some legends are about real people and some fall more under myth. Semiramis was a real person, but like many historical greats, stories came down over the millenniums that may be exaggerated or even invented. Semiramis was a Babylonian queen, believed to be the mother of Nebuchadnezzar who built the Hanging Gardens of Babylon. She murdered her own husband, and arranged for the murder of a stepson who had a better claim to the throne than her own son.”
    The smile on Cassie’s face was slowly turning into a frown.
    I went on. “Her death mask was given to her son, who subsequently went mad. It’s said that he ran through the Hanging Gardens, screaming that the ghost of his mother was chasing him.”
    “My God! What a horrible thing!” Cassie said, scrunching her face and shoulders in horror.
    Actually, I wondered about the story. It was awfully similar to King Herod being chased around the palace by the ghost of his wife Mariamne after he put her to death.
    “After Alexander the Great conquered his way to the Himalayas, he turned around and came back to Babylon, the most magnificent city in the world. He moved into Nebuchadnezzar’s palace and was given the Mask of Semiramis. He died shortly thereafter, quickly and mysteriously, at the age of thirty-three.
    “Afterward, of course, the mask eventually passed down to Hārūn al-Rashīd, the Caliph of Baghdad whose royal court was the basis for the story
of Arabian Nights
,
the Thousand and One Nights
.”
    Cassie clapped her hands. “Aladdin! I loved the movie.” The brilliant smile glowed.
    “Yes, well, as you know, it’s the story of the caliph discovering that his wife has been sleeping with harem guards. He has her head chopped off and thereafter marries a different young woman every night. In the morning, the new bride has her head chopped off.”
    Cassie had a ghastly look on her face.
    “What a waste of beauty,” Dane, the intellectual, said.
    I forced a smile.
What a waste of a brain!
“Anyway, even the most recent owner, a man in Beirut, was murdered.”
    “Now, Madison, isn’t there a controversy about how museums and rich people are grabbing up the national heritage of poorer countries?”
    I was impressed. Dane’s question was actually newsworthy.
    “We think of it as preserving endangered antiquities so they can be enjoyed by the entire world. I’m sure you know that in many third-world countries antiquities are—”
    Cassie clapped her hands again. “Sinbad!” she blurted out.
    Dane and I stared at her for a few seconds, not believing what had just come out of her mouth. I found my voice first. “Sinbad?”
    “He was in
Arabian Nights
. I liked that movie, too. Tell us some more about the lust and disgust your statue has caused.”
    I didn’t correct her by reminding her it was a mask. She was getting into it now.
    Apparently I had underestimated Cassie’s repertoire of film and literature. She was well versed, at least in the Disney-type movies.
    “The Hope Diamond,” she said.
    I didn’t follow her train of thought. “The Hope Diamond?”
    “You know, the one with the mummy’s curse.”
    Dane said, “I think Cassie is referring to the gem’s curse.”
    I cleared my throat. “Actually, Cassie, I think the mummy’s curse was King Tut’s revenge….”
    It went on like this for fifteen minutes. Luckily it was a short interview. I don’t think I would’ve survived any longer.

Chapter 11
    A week later I stepped out of a limo in front of the museum. My heart was