Halston stood there in a panic. "Wait a minute," he said. His greed was dueling with his common sense, but he knew he must not lose the emerald now. "Please sit down, Contessa. I'm sure we can come to some equitable arrangement. If I can persuade my client to pay a hundred fifty thousand - ?"
"Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars."
"Let's say, two hundred thousand?"
"Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars."
There was no budging her. Halston made his decision. A $150,000 profit was better than nothing. It would mean a smaller villa and boat, but it was still a fortune. It would serve the Parker brothers right for the shabby way they treated him. He would wait a day or two and then give them his notice. By next week he would be on the Cфte d'Azur.
"You have a deal," he said.
"Meraviglioso! Sono contenta!"
You should be contented, you bitch, Halston thought. But he had nothing to complain about. He was set for life. He took one last look at the emerald and slipped it into his pocket. "I'll give you a check written on the store's account."
"Bene, signore."
Halston wrote out the check and handed it to her. He would have Mrs. P.J. Benecke make out her $400,000 check to cash. Peter would cash the check for him, and he would exchange the contessa's check for the Parker brothers' check and pocket the difference. He would arrange it with Peter so that the $250,000 check would not appear on the Parker brothers' monthly statement. One hundred and fifty thousand dollars.
He could already feel the warm French sun on his face.
The taxi ride back to the store seemed to take only seconds. Halston visualized Mrs. Benecke's happiness when he broke the good news to her. He had not only found the jewel she wanted, he had spared her from the excruciating experience of living in a drafty, rundown country house.
When Halston floated into the store, Chilton said, "Sir, a customer here is interested in - "
Halston cheerfully waved him aside. "Later."
He had no time for customers. Not now, not ever again. From now on people would wait on him. He would shop at Hermes and Gucci and Lanvin.
Halston fluttered into his office, closed the door, set the emerald on the desk in front of him, and dialed a number.
An operator's voice said, "Dorchester Hotel."
"The Oliver Messel Suite, please."
"To whom did you wish to speak?"
"Mrs. P.J. Benecke."
"One moment, please."
Halston whistled softly while he waited.
The operator came back on the line. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Benecke has checked out."
"Then ring whatever suite she's moved to."
"Mrs. Benecke has checked out of the hotel."
"That's impossible. She - "
"I'll connect you with reception."
A male voice said, "Reception. May I help you?"
"Yes. What suite is Mrs. P.J. Benecke in?"
"Mrs. Benecke checked out of the hotel this morning."
There had to be an explanation. Some unexpected emergency.
"May I have her forwarding address, please. This is - "
"I'm sorry. She didn't leave one."
"Of course she left one."
"I checked Mrs. Benecke out myself. She left no forwarding address."
It was a jab to the pit of his stomach. Halston slowly replaced the receiver and sat there, bewildered. He had to find a way to get in touch with her, to let her know that he had finally located the emerald. In the meantime, he had to get back the $250,000 check from the Contessa Marissa.
He hurriedly dialed the Savoy Hotel. "Suite twenty-six."
"Whom are you calling, please?"
"The Contessa Marissa."
"One moment, please."
But even before the operator came back on the line, some terrible premonition told Gregory Halston the disastrous news he was about to hear.
"I'm sorry. The Contessa Marissa has checked out."
He hung up. His fingers were trembling so hard that he was barely able to dial the number of the bank. "Give me the head bookkeeper.... quickly! I wish to stop payment on a check."
But, of course, he was too late. He had sold an emerald for $100,000 and had bought back the same emerald for $250,000. Gregory Halston sat there slumped in his chair, wondering how he was going to explain it to the Parker brothers.
Chapter 22
It was the beginning of a new life for Tracy. She purchased a beautiful old Georgian house at 45 Eaton Square that was bright and cheerful and perfect for entertaining. It had a Queen Anne - British slang for a front garden - and a Mary Anne - a back garden - and in season the flowers were magnificent. Gunther helped Tracy furnish the house, and before the two of them were finished, it was one of the showplaces of London.
Gunther introduced Tracy as a wealthy young widow whose husband had made his fortune in the import-export business. She was an instant success; beautiful, intelligent, and charming, she was soon inundated with invitations.
At intervals, Tracy made short trips to France and Switzerland and Belgium and Italy, and each time she and Gunther Hartog profited.
Under Gunther's tutelage, Tracy studied the Almanach de Gotha and Debrett's Peerage and Baronetage, the authoritative books listing detailed information on all the royalty and titles in Europe. Tracy became a chameleon, an expert in makeup and disguises and accents. She acquired half a dozen passports. In various countries, she was a British duchess, a French airline stewardess, and a South American heiress. In a year she had accumulated more money than she would ever need. She set up a fund from which she made large, anonymous contributions to organizations that helped former women prisoners, and she arranged for a generous pension to be sent to Otto Schmidt every month. She no longer even entertained the thought of quitting. She loved the challenge of outwitting clever, successful people. The thrill of each daring escapade acted like a drug, and Tracy found that she constantly needed new and bigger challenges. There was one credo she lived by: She was careful never to hurt the innocent. The people who jumped at her swindles were greedy or immoral, or both. No one will ever commit suicide because of what I've done to them, Tracy promised herself.