Page 65 of The Collector
“Get away with what?”
“Whatever game it is you think you’re playing.”
“Trust me, Magnus. This isn’t a game.”
He looked at Ingrid. “Who is she?”
“Her name is Eva Westergaard. She works for a boutique energy consulting firm called—”
“Who is she?” asked Magnus a second time.
“It doesn’t matter who she is,” answered Gabriel. “It’s what she represents that’s important.”
“And what is that?”
“An opportunity for you to deal with this as an intelligence matter rather than a criminal one. If, however, you fail to take advantage of the situation before you, all the sewage from your despicable life will spill into public view.” Gabriel lowered his eyes toward Katje. “Including her.”
“I know who she is. And I had nothing to do with her sister’s disappearance.”
“That’s because your friend Vladimir Vladimirovich handled it for you. You were so important to him they gave you a code name. They call you the Collector.” Gabriel removed the volume of Shakespeare from Katje’s hands. “It is undoubtedly a reference to your passion for rare books.”
“Do you know how many times I’ve been called a Russian asset because of my friendship with Vladimir?”
“But I have the receipts,” said Gabriel. “Including the one for your room at the Hotel Metropol in 2003 when you were negotiating the RuzNeft joint venture.”
Magnus was silent for a moment. “What do you want from me?”
“I’d like you to tell Katje what happened to her sister. And thenyou’re going to explain your recent interest in acquiring a South African mining company.” Gabriel paused, then added, “Not to mentionThe Concertby Johannes Vermeer.”
Magnus was incredulous. “What in God’s name are you—”
“I would advise you,” said Gabriel evenly, “to choose another path.”
Another silence, longer than the last. “Why should I trust you, of all people?”
“Because I’m your only hope.”
Magnus looked down at his wrist and frowned. “My watch is missing.”
Gabriel exchanged a look with Ingrid. “I hope it wasn’t expensive.”
“A Piaget Altiplano Origin. But it had sentimental value as well.”
“Your wife gave it to you?”
“Karoline? Goodness no. The watch was a gift from Vladimir.” He looked at Ingrid again. “Who is she, Allon?”
“Perhaps I should allow Ms. Westergaard to answer that question for herself.”
Ingrid returned the watch to Magnus.
“Ah, yes,” he said. “That would explain everything.”
34
Branitzer Platz
The origin story of Magnus Larsen had always glossed over his childhood. It was widely assumed, based on his aspect and appearance, that he was the flower of an old and prosperous Copenhagen clan of consequence. The truth, however, was that Magnus had been born into a working-class family in the town of Korsør, located on the western shore of the island of Zealand. His father did odd jobs, his mother did nothing at all. Neither one of his parents ever opened, let alone read, a book. Indeed, there was not a single book in the Larsen home save for the phone book and an old Bible.
