Free The Black Madonna by Davis Bunn Page B

the biggest real estate boom in Europe’s history. When the bubble burst, the authorities discovered an underlying web of African dictators and Russian mafia who had used the boom to launder money. Licenses were granted to construction projects that have overwhelmed local services and wrecked southern Spain’s last remaining pristine wilderness. The auction yesterday was of assets seized from corrupt Spanish officials who were bribed huge amounts to look the other way.”
    â€œAnd today?”
    â€œNow it is the Russians’ turn.” His gesture took in their location, Marbella’s Teatro Municipale. “This theater is across the street from the bank used to store the seized assets. And other than the football stadium, it’s the largest venue they could find. They are expecting a standing-room crowd. I must warn you, bidding will be fierce, regardless of what arrangement you and I—”
    â€œWhat happens tomorrow?”
    â€œThe Africans. The worst of them was Nguema Mbasogo, president of Equatorial Guinea. Supposedly he and his minions hid almost a quarter of a billion dollars around this area. Then there’s Sudanese oil money, Nigerian kidnappers, Zaire diamond merchants. This region has attracted a truly vile lot.”
    Emma said, “Tell us about the Russians.”
    â€œTheir mobs operate throughout Europe, mostly prostitution and drugs.” He looked from one woman to the other. “Is that what this is about?”
    â€œI told you, Aaron. I don’t know. Is there any tie to the West Bank?”
    The dealer showed surprise for the first time. “Not that I am aware of.”
    The auctioneer chose that moment to walk across the stage, tap on the mike, and welcome the gathered throng in both Spanish and English. Aaron said, “I suggest you ladies find seats unless you prefer to stand all day.”
    â€œWait. What can you tell me about the Amethyst Clock?”
    â€œOnly that it is a legend with no credence whatsoever.” He stepped away. “I am very sorry for your loss.”
    Emma waited for the dealer to make his way back to the center of the theater, shaking hands and giving a politician’s wave as he went. “He knows something.”
    Storm tracked Aaron’s progress. “I think so too.”
    â€œHe tried to hide it. But when you mentioned the clock, he jerked like he’d been shot.”
    STORM WOKE TO THE MELODY of a foreign land drifting through her balcony doors. Sunlight frosted the lace curtains. She smelled fresh-baked bread. Out to sea, a boat chugged a deep-throated cadence while gulls sang in frantic harmony. The miniature chandelier dangling from the high ceiling gleamed a cheerful hello. For a few easy breaths, Storm felt as though she actually held the prospect of hope.
    Then her cell phone rang. And as she reached to the side table, she saw Emma watching her from the other bed. There in the other woman’s hollowed gaze was everything Storm had managed to forget. At least for a moment.
    â€œHello.”
    â€œIt’s Aaron Rausch, Ms. Syrrell. I hope I’m not disturbing you.”
    â€œWhat time is it?”
    â€œJust after seven. Don’t tell me I woke you.”
    â€œNo.” She slipped her feet to the floor and tried to locate her business voice. “What can I do for you, Mr. Rausch?”
    â€œI am downstairs. I was hoping we might have a word before the auction begins.”
    â€œGive me fifteen minutes.” Storm shut the phone, turned to Emma, and asked, “How long have you been awake?”
    â€œWrong question.” Emma spoke to the ceiling. “To wake up implies having been asleep.”
    â€œRausch wants to meet.”
    â€œI might as well tag along.” Emma tossed her covers aside. “I’m sure not doing any good here.”
    Emma did not speak again until they were waiting for the elevator. “I can’t get over everything I’ve