LaSalle’s face fell as he walked to his sitting area, where Shaheen had led her to a love seat opposite the seat he gestured for the man to take.
Trepidation seized LaSalle’s face. Shaheen said something to her in Arabic. That this looked like a guilty man. She squeezed his hand, and he nodded. Whatever he thought, he would let her deal with LaSalle. She’d told him she believed not only in the man’s artistry but in his integrity, too. She would give him every benefit of the doubt first.
She started, careful not to make her words either a question or an accusation. “It’s about the duplicates of the Pride of Zohayd collection, Monsieur LaSalle.”
The man didn’t even look at her, his gaze pinned nervously on Shaheen. Johara could imagine how her husband looked to the man, a lethal predator crouched in deceptive calm, but clearly only on a tight leash, and would launch into a slashing attack at a word from her.
“Are there any complaints about any of the pieces, Prince Aal Shalaan? I am, of course, willing to replace any that have been damaged, even if due to negligence. I produce my pieces with a lifetime guarantee. But if this is about the quality, in my defense—” he swung his gaze to her, as if asking her support “—you of all people, Mademoiselle Nazaryan—pardonnez moi, Princess Aal Shalaan—know the difficulty of working from photographs, even the most detailed and multiangled of close-ups.”
Johara sat forward, placed a placating hand on the man’s trembling one. “The quality is what only you can achieve, Monsieur. It was the sheer genius of the duplication that narrowed down my options to you. It’s imperative that you tell us everything about how you came to make those duplicates.”
“You mean you don’t know?” LaSalle gaped at her. “But it was the royal house who commissioned the duplicates.”
After a stunned moment when Johara thought they’d gotten this all wrong, she asked slowly, “You mean King Atef personally commissioned them?”
The man shook his expressive hands. “Of course not. I don’t even know who did, but it was understood it was the royal house.”
“How was it understood?” Shaheen grated.
The man gave a helpless, eloquent shrug. “Owners of invaluable treasures frequently wish to have duplicates to use if their jewelry will be worn or displayed in less than totally secure conditions.”
“So who approached you from the royal house?” Shaheen asked.
“I wasn’t approached directly. In fact, it was through a quite convoluted method of double blinds.”
“And you still thought this was aboveboard?” Shaheen hissed.
The man was looking more mortified by the moment. “Yes. The rich and royal always wish to hide their true dealings, and it made sense that the royal house would not want it to be known that the duplicates existed. And then, who else could have provided me with all those photographs? Who could afford to pay the astronomical fee I was given?”
“Who indeed.” Shaheen huffed. “But didn’t it seem suspicious that they didn’t entrust their own royal jeweler with the chore?”
The man nodded vigorously. “But I was told Berj was not well, and I even called him to make sure of that. My contacts said they didn’t want to burden him in his state. They also feared if he heard a whiff of this, he’d feel slighted that he’d been bypassed for this assignment, that he’d feel his usefulness to the royal house had come to an end. As a fellow master craftsman, this was even more incentive for me to keep silent than the money I was paid. I appreciated my clients’ need for absolute accuracy more when it was their effort not to tip him off to the fact that he’d be maintaining duplicates. I did warn them that he would know, no matter how accurate the replicas, but I was assured he was in no condition to notice, if I made them close enough.”
She stared at LaSalle, a terrible suspicion spreading through her. She turned to Shaheen only to see it reflected in his eyes.
Then he put it into words. “They were certain of his inability to recognize the fakes because they’ve been drugging him. This explains his deteriorating condition of late. And when he believed there was something wrong with him and started taking medication for his so-called depression, the drug interactions must have caused his heart attack.”
“They could have killed him!” Johara cried out, her heart rattling with rage.
Shaheen gave a solemn nod, eloquent with his determination to punish those responsible for this most of all. “But since they didn’t want a new jeweler, a younger and more vigilant one in his place, they pulled back, counted on his unwarranted medications to confuse him enough for their purposes.”
“This is appalling!” Monsieur LaSalle exclaimed, horror seizing his face. “I’ve been party not only to a fraud, but to almost having a hand in Berj’s death?”
“You are not in any way accountable,” Shaheen assured him. “But we need you to tell us every detail about how you were contacted, how you were paid and how you delivered the duplicates. Any information you give us will be the only leads we have toward apprehending the culprits and returning the real jewels.”
The man exploded to his feet. “You have my full cooperation. And if they approach me again, I will keep playing the game, so they’ll either give me more information or grow secure and do something that will help you expose them.”
After they’d obtained every possible detail from LaSalle, Johara and Shaheen drove straight back to the airport.
As they approached Shaheen’s jet, she saw a black Jaguar parked near its stairs. Amjad and Harres were leaning against it.
As soon as she and Shaheen stepped out of the car, Harres met them. Amjad remained where he was, hips braced against the hood, legs crossed at the ankles and hands deep in his pockets.
“Any news?” Harres asked.
“What we can use only, please,” Amjad interjected.
Shaheen shot him an exasperated glance then answered Harres. “The forger is a reputable jeweler who was duped like the rest of us. He offered to do all he can and promised to keep working with us.”
Amjad sighed. “If you say so. Or is it Johara who does?”
Shaheen ignored him. “The thieves have access to funds on par with us. And they have infiltrated the palace on every level.” He gave Harres the tape with LaSalle’s recorded details. “I think this has enough threads to lead us to the mastermind.”
Harres put the tape in his pocket. “I’ve already started investigating everyone who was in the palace during the past year. But this will narrow down my search. It will narrow down your sweep, too, Amjad.”