Curse of the Jade Lily (Mac McKenzie #9)

Curse of the Jade Lily (Mac McKenzie #9) Page 21

“Yes,” Hemsted said.

“Let me see if I got this straight. The insurance company is paying approximately one-point-three million for the safe return of the Jade Lily. But you guys, after I make the exchange, you guys expect me to steal the Lily from the insurance company and the museum and give it to you instead. Does that pretty much cover it?”

“The Lily belongs to Bosnia and Herzegovina,” Pozderac said. “It belongs to me.”

“I heard that it rightfully belongs to Tatjana Durakovic; that it was stolen from her during the Yugoslav Wars.”

Pozderac was on his feet in a hurry. He was not quite as enraged as before. Still …

“That is lie,” he said. “That is damnable lie. You will not repeat such lies. Do you understand?

“Kiss my—”

“McKenzie,” Rask shouted. In a lower voice, he said, “McKenzie.”

“Here’s the thing, pal.” I was speaking directly to Pozderac. “I don’t work for the government. I don’t work for the mayor of Minneapolis or the chief of police or Lieutenant Rask. I certainly don’t work for you. So, if you want something from me, ask politely.”

“Mr. McKenzie,” Hemsted said. “There is no need for hostility.”

Yeah, right, my inner voice said.

“Look, fellas,” I said aloud. “As far as I am concerned, this is a moot point, anyway, for the simple reason that if I do what you request”—I nodded at Lieutenant Rask—“the police are going to lock me up and throw away the key. Isn’t that right, LT?”

He didn’t answer, but I was sure I heard him growl again.

“Arrangements have already been made, Mr. McKenzie,” Hemsted said. “There will be no arrests. As for the insurance company, we will guarantee that it is compensated for its loss.”

“One million two hundred and seventy thousand dollars?” I said. “Can I have that in writing?”

“You’ll need to take my word for it. McKenzie, this conversation never took place.”

“C’mon. If the Lily is so important, why don’t you just go to the museum and collect it; go to whatsisname Gillard and confiscate it, or whatever the hell it is you do when the government wants something that doesn’t belong to it?”

“If we could, we would. Unfortunately, the Lily is in the wind—isn’t that the criminal vernacular for an item that is missing?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

Pozderac slowly edged to where I was sitting and looked down at me. “Lily must be returned,” he said. “Immediately. See to it.” He moved to the door, opened it, and stepped out. “See to it,” he repeated over his shoulder.

I guessed that he was speaking to Hemsted, because the man pulled out a chair and sat at the table directly across from me.

“McKenzie,” he said. “It greatly distresses me to be forced to speak to you in this manner. I had hoped you would embrace our cause out of a sense of…”

“Patriotism?”

“To be blunt, Branko Pozderac is not the first asshole that our government has had to appease in order to keep the peace. I cannot go into details. I can tell you that Bosnia and Herzegovina is made up of three ethnic groups, constituent people they’re called—Bosniaks, Serbs, and Croats—that were happily slaughtering each other not so very long ago. Each group has an equal share in governing the country. As you can imagine, the government is a fragile enterprise at best. So far it works. To keep it working, at least in the short term, means catering to Pozderac. He wants the Lily. He claims it’s a national treasure. We’re going to get it for him.”

“You mean I’m going to get it for him.”

“I’m not very good at threatening people,” Hemsted said, “but I can arrange an audit of your tax returns for each of the past seven years and every year from now until you die, at which time I’ll have your estate audited. I can arrange to have your name placed on the Do Not Fly list. I can arrange for you to have problems with your passport, your Social Security, your Medicaid, with any federal program. I can have men dressed in black interview every person you have ever met about your character, your love of country, threats you might have made against the government. I can have you detained and released over and over again as a person of interest in whatever interests Homeland Security at the moment. That’s what I can do legally. Give me time and I’ll think of a lot more.”

“I get it.”

“Illegally, well…”

“I get it.”

“I can make your life miserable.”

“You’re mistaken, Jon,” I said. “You are very good at threatening people.”

“Will you retrieve the Lily for us?”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Please do.”

He smiled then, but there was no joy in it. In fact, I could detect a measure of pain in that smile, the kind of pain that comes from self-knowledge gained at a heavy price, and it occurred to me that Hemsted might have become a prick against his will.