Chasing Tomorrow

“YOU WILL NOT FIND Daniel Cooper in Seville, Inspector.”

Comisario Alessandro Dmitri was angry. Jean Rizzo recognized the expression on the Spanish policeman’s face all too well. It was a combination of anger, resentment and arrogance. Interpol agents got it a lot, especially from disgruntled regional police chiefs.

“Señora Prieto seemed convinced that—”

“Señora Prieto is misinformed. She had no business contacting your agency directly. I’m afraid she has brought you here on a . . . what is the English expression? You are chasing wild geese.”

Jean Rizzo walked over to the window. Seville’s new police headquarters boasted spectacular views of the city, but today everything was dreary and gray. Traffic crawled sluggishly around the roundabout immediately below them. Like me, thought Jean. Going in circles.

“Señora Prieto mentioned the letter she found inside the case protecting the Holy Shroud. You knew about that?”

Dmitri bristled. “Of course.”

“She said she received a phone call two days prior—”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Dmitri interrupted rudely, waving Jean away like a pesky fly. “I got a call myself, as it happens, from the same man. American, spouting all sorts of wild theories about the Santa Sábana being stolen.”

“You never reported this call?”

“Reported it to whom?” Dmitri grew even angrier. “I am the chief of police in Seville. I dismissed the call as nonsense and I was proven right. No attempt has been made to steal the Shroud. I’m afraid Señora Prieto has rather a feminine sensibility, prone to drama and conspiracy theories. I prefer to stick to facts.”

“So do I,” said Jean. “Let me tell you a few facts about Daniel Cooper.”

He filled Dmitri in on the bare bones. Cooper’s history as an insurance investigator, his obsession with the con artists Tracy Whitney and Jeff Stevens and his subsequent involvement in a string of art and jewelry thefts worldwide. Finally Jean told Dmitri about the Bible Killer murders. “Daniel Cooper is our prime suspect. At this point he’s our only suspect. I can’t stress strongly enough how important it is that we find him. Cooper is brilliant, deeply disturbed and dangerous.”

Comisario Dmitri yawned. “I daresay, Inspector, and I wish you luck. However, the fact remains, he is not in Seville.”

“How do you know?”

Dmitri smiled smugly. “Because if he were here, my men would have found him.”

JEAN’S MEETING AT THE Antiquarium was more productive. He found Magdalena Prieto to be reasonable, intelligent and polite, a welcome change from the obnoxious Dmitri.

“Is he always that much of a jerk?” Jean asked. He was seated in Magdalena’s office, sipping a much-needed double espresso that her secretary had kindly brought him.

“Always.” Magdalena Prieto sighed. “He’s furious with me for calling Interpol. Thinks it undermines his authority, which I suppose it does in a way. But I felt it was my duty to do everything I could to protect the Shroud. I can’t tell you how shaken I was, finding that letter.”

“I’m sure.”

“Whoever was in that case could have damaged the Sábana, or even destroyed it. It doesn’t bear thinking about.”

“But they didn’t,” Jean observed.

“No.”

“They didn’t try to steal it either. Or to extort money.”

“Exactly. I truly believe that the person who left the letter and telephoned me was trying to warn me. I think he was sincere. More than that, he was well informed. My staff confirmed that they’d seen the other man he told me about, the one posing as a policeman. You’ve seen the CCTV footage?”

Jean nodded. The hunched, dark-haired man in the parka was not familiar to him. If this was Daniel Cooper’s new accomplice, he was certainly very far removed from Elizabeth Kennedy, his former partner in crime.

“The way this guy broke in . . .” Señora Prieto continued admiringly. “It wasn’t just that he bypassed our alarms and cameras. That glass is bulletproof and the key codes supposedly impenetrable. He knew exactly what he was doing. He even ensured that the atmospheric balance of argon and oxygen was left intact. Who does that?”

“So he understood about the need to preserve the Shroud?”

“Yes. And how to preserve it. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he must be a curator himself. Or an archaeologist.”

Jean Rizzo smiled. An American expert on antiquities who can crack codes and bypass alarms, with a flair for the dramatic . . .