The Messenger (Gabriel Allon 06) by Daniel Silva

Author:Daniel Silva [Silva, Daniel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Art restorers, Intelligence officers, Allon; Gabriel (Fictitious character), General, Israelis, Thrillers, Terrorism, Fiction, Espionage
ISBN: 9780141030517
Publisher: Penguin
Published: 2007-07-05T06:00:00+00:00

"Hardly surprising, Andrew. You only do big."

Malone batted away Isherwood's attempt at flattery. "I'm afraid I only have a moment," he said. "What can I do for you, Julie?"

"I think I might have something for you. Something for your client, actually."

"My client doesn't do the Old Masters."

"The something I have for your client isn't Old Master. It's Impressionist. And not just any Impressionist, if you're getting my drift. It's special, Andrew. It's the sort of thing that only a handful of collectors in the world can even dream about owning, and your man happens to be one of them. I'm offering you a first look, Andrew—an exclusive first look. Any interest, or shall I take my business elsewhere?" "Do tell more, Julie."

"Sorry, darling, but it's not the sort of thing one discusses over the telephone. How about lunch tomorrow? I'm buying."

"I'm going to Tokyo tomorrow. There's a collector there who has a Monet my man wants."

"How about the day after tomorrow then?" 'That's my jet-lag day. Let's make it Thursday, shall we?" "You won't regret this, Andrew." "Regrets are what sustain us. Ciao, Julie."

Isherwood hung up the telephone and looked at the heavy-shouldered man with strawberry-blond hair seated on the opposite side of the desk. "Nicely done," said Uzi Navot. "But next time let Zizi buy lunch."

It came as no surprise to Gabriel that Andrew Malone was in Rome, because he had been under electronic and physical surveillance for nearly a week. He had gone to the Eternal City to acquire a certain Degas sculpture that Zizi had had his eye on for quite some time but left empty-handed on Monday night and proceeded to Tokyo. The anonymous collector whom Malone hoped to relieve of a Monet was none other than the famed industrialist Morito Watanabe. Based on the defeatist expression on Malone's face as he was leaving Watanabe's apartment, Gabriel concluded the negotiations had not gone well. That evening Malone phoned Isherwood to say he was staying in Tokyo a day longer than expected. "I'm afraid we're going to have to postpone our little get-together," he said. "Can We do it next week?" Gabriel, who was anxious to get under way, instructed

Isherwood to hold fast, and the meeting was pushed back just one day, from the Thursday to the Friday, though Isherwood did agree to make it a late lunch so that Malone could catch a few hours of sleep in his own bed. Malone did in fact remain in Tokyo for an additional day, but Tokyo Station detected no further contact between him and Watanabe or any of Watanabe's agents. He returned to London late Thursday evening, looking, according to Eli Lavon, like a cadaver in a Savile Row suit. At three-thirty the next afternoon, the cadaver crept through the doorway of Green's restaurant in Duke Street and made his way to the quiet corner table, where Isherwood was already waiting. Isherwood poured him a very large glass of white burgundy. "All right, Julie," said Malone. "Let's cut the bullshit, shall we? What have you got up your sleeve? And who the fuck put it there? Cheers.

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