Free The Da Vinci Deception by Thomas Swan Page A

fell into his hand. He snapped a waiter to attention and alerted the chef to keep a flame under the poacher. The pink salmon was served perfunctorily but Jonas ate with his usual enthusiasm. After the meal Jonas ordered a snifter of Remy Martin VSOP. He inhaled the rich fumes and without turning his eyes spoke very softly.
    â€œSomething is dreadfully wrong. I feel it.”
    â€œStiehl has the drawing. I was late getting it to him but he has it.”
    â€œThat’s obvious. There’s something else.”
    â€œThere was a hitch.”
    â€œWhat kind of hitch, for God’s sake?”
    Tony began. He talked slowly, never raising his voice above a quiet monotone. “I had no reason to suspect one of the assistant librarians had been planted by the Metropolitan Police. In fact she didn’t begin until the middle of August, long after I’d screened the other staff members. Most have been there since Charlemagne, to see them creak.
    â€œShe came in with her big tits in front of her and a smile frozen to her face. On the last two Fridays she stayed after the others had gone home. She did the same this afternoon. It was a nuisance but she might have stayed for the entire bloody evening. I suggested we have a drink together, then I’d have her out of the library. I thought she had gone on ahead but she stopped at the loo. Then as she was leaving she saw me at the files.”
    â€œShe saw you take the drawing?” Jonas’s fat jowls sagged.
    â€œShe saw me ‘take something’ was the way she put it. When we met for our drinks, she told me she had run fingerprints on me and said I was Anthony Waters. That’s when I learned she was on special assignment from Scotland Yard. She’s in C13 and I’ve run into that bunch before.”
    Jonas spilled his brandy. “Who knows besides this policewoman?”
    â€œShe planned to file her report this weekend. Tomorrow. I’m guessing no one else knows.”
    â€œShe cannot file a report.” Jonas slammed his hand on the table. “You hear me? There must not be a report.”
    â€œThere won’t be a report. Sarah Evans is dead.”
    Jonas’s eyes for a rare, split instant were changed, as if an involuntary muscle spasm popped them wide open. “Dead? What in God’s name did you do?”
    â€œIt rained tonight, the roads were slippery. Her car is in a field beyond
a sharp curve.” Tony took the brandy down in a single swallow. “She lost control and crashed.”
    â€œExplain. How did she lose control?”
    The big man listened incredulously as Tony accounted for every action from the time he and Sarah left the Old House until he returned for his car and drove to London. His description of Sarah’s car crashing over the wall and the gruesome condition in which he found her were related in vivid detail.
    â€œNo more . . . I don’t want to hear it!” Sweat glistened on Jonas’s face and he dabbed at it with his napkin. “We’re hardly started and you’ve put everything in jeopardy. You realize they won’t stop until they’ve found who did it.”
    â€œIt will look like an accident. I’ll wager that’s their conclusion.”
    â€œAnd you’ll make a bad bet.”
    Tony knew an investigation was automatic, but he was trying to keep Jonas’s anger in check.
    â€œYou took the report she was going to submit this weekend. Obviously there are other papers. Her files on the crew, and the fingerprint report that gave you away. Where are all those pieces of paper?”
    â€œShe told me she received the report on me yesterday. I’m certain she hasn’t passed that information on.”
    Jonas fell silent. He leaned forward as if to speak, then slumped back. All the while he tried to rub away the wetness that soaked his shirt collar. Finally he spoke, his round mouth quivering. “You were a damned fool! An impetuous,