Kingdom of the Golden Dragon (Memories of the Eagle and the Jaguar #2)(10)
She caught it and kept walking, with the thought that it was time to do something about those eggs. With no plan in mind, she headed for the street in midtown that was lined with jewelers' shops, where she found herself before the door of a store owned by an old love of hers, Isaac Rosenblat. Forty years before, they had been close to getting married, but Joseph Cold had come along and seduced Kate by playing his flute for her. Kate was sure that the flute was magic. Within a short time Joseph Cold had become one of the most famous musicians in the world. "The same flute my foolish grandson left somewhere in the Amazon," Kate thought, furious. She had given Alexander's ear a good twist when he lost his grandfather's magnificent instrument.
?
Isaac Rosenblat was a pillar of the Jewish community, rich, respected, and the father of six children. He was one of those easygoing people who fulfill their responsibilities with no fuss and whose soul is at peace, but when he saw Kate Cold walk into his shop he felt himself sinking into a morass of memories. In one instant he was again the shy young man who had loved this woman with the desperation of first love. In those days Kate had been a girl with porcelain skin and an untamed red mane; now she had more wrinkles than a parchment, and the gray hair she cut with scissors was standing up like straw in a broom.
"Kate! You haven't changed, my girl, I'd pick you out in any crowd," he murmured with heartfelt emotion.
"Don't lie, you shameless old sweet-talker," she replied, feeling flattered despite herself and dropping her knapsack, which thudded to the floor like a sack of potatoes.
"You've come to tell me that you made a mistake and to ask me to forgive you for having left me with a broken heart, isn't that it?" the jeweler joked.
"You're right, I made a mistake, Isaac. I wasn't cut out for wedded bliss. My marriage to Joseph lasted only a short time, but at least we had a son, John. Now I have three grandchildren."
"I knew that Joseph had died, I'm truly sorry. I was always jealous of him, and I never forgave him for taking my sweetheart away from me, but I bought all his records anyway. I have the complete collection of his concerts. He was a genius."
The jeweler offered Kate a seat on a dark leather sofa, and made himself comfortable at her side. "So you're a widow now?" he added, studying her affectionately.
"Don't get any ideas, I haven't come looking for sympathy. Or to buy jewelry. Jewels aren't my style," Kate replied.
"I can see that," Isaac Rosenblat noted, casting a sideways glance at her wrinkled trousers and combat boots, and the travel backpack she set on the floor.
"I want to show you these glass pieces," she said, taking the eggs from her jacket.
The morning light was shining through the window, falling directly on the objects Kate was holding in the palms of her hands. An impossible brilliance blinded Isaac Rosenblat for an instant, making his heart leap. He came from a family of jewelers. Precious stones from the tombs of the Egyptian pharaohs had passed through the hands of his grandfather; his father's hands had fashioned diadems for empresses; his own had dismantled the ruby and emerald jewelry of Russian czars murdered during the Bolshevik Revolution. No one knew more about gems than he did, and very few stones had the power to move him, but what he had before him was something so wondrous that it made his head spin. Without a word, he took the eggs over to his desk and examined them through his loupe beneath a strong light. When he confirmed that his first impression was correct, he heaved a great sigh, took out a white linen handkerchief, and wiped his forehead.
"Where did you steal these, my girl?" he asked, his voice trembling.
"They came from a remote place called the City of the Beasts."
"Are you pulling my leg?" the jeweler asked.
"Well, no. I swear. Are they worth anything, Isaac?"
"They're worth something, yes. Let's say that with these stones you could buy a small country," he murmured.
"Are you kidding?"
"These are the largest and the most perfect diamonds I have ever seen. Where were they? It isn't possible that a treasure like this could have gone unnoticed. I know all the important stones in existence, but I have never heard of these, Kate."
"Ask them to bring us some coffee and a shot of vodka, Isaac. And get comfortable, because I'm going to tell you an interesting story," Kate Cold replied.
And so she informed her good friend about a teenage Brazilian girl who had climbed a mysterious mountain in the Upper Orinoco, led by a dream and by a naked witch man to the place where she found the eggs in an eagle's nest. Kate told him how the girl had entrusted that fortune to Alexander, her grandson, charging him with the mission of using it to help a certain tribe of Indians, the People of the Mist, who were still living in the Stone Age. Isaac Rosenblat listened courteously, not believing a word of the preposterous story. Not even a blithering idiot would swallow a pack of fantasies like that, he thought. He felt sure that his old sweetheart had gotten mixed up in some shady business, or that she had discovered a fabulous mine. He knew that Kate would never tell him the straight story. And, well, that was her right. He sighed again.
"I see you don't believe me, Isaac," the eccentric writer muttered, tossing back another shot of vodka to calm a fit of coughing.
"I suppose you will admit that this is a rather unusual story, Kate?"