Sidney Sheldon's Chasing Tomorrow (Tracy Whitney #2)(79)

Domingo shrugged. “I’m only passing on information. But I’ve heard it from a number of sources. Besides, you used to tell me there was no such thing as impossible,” he added, a wry smile playing on his thin lips.

“Yeah, well. I was talking out of my behind.” Jeff laughed, but he didn’t seem amused. “What sources?”

Domingo gave him a look that clearly said, You know I can’t answer that.

“What have you heard, exactly?”

“Nothing ‘exactly.’ Just rumor, some of it conflicting. But the common thread is that there’s a fundamentalist out there, Iranian, unimaginably wealthy. He wants the Shroud so he can destroy it. ‘Burn the tokens of the heretics,’ that sort of thing. I’m sure you know the type.”

Jeff shuddered. He felt physically ill.

Domingo went on. “Anyway, supposedly this ayatollah wannabe has hired some brilliant American to come up with a plan to spirit the Shroud out of Seville. I gather he’s been offered an insane amount of money.”

“How much is insane?”

“The figure I heard was ten million euros. Why? Are you thinking of going into competition with him?” Domingo asked teasingly.

“I wouldn’t steal the Shroud of Turin for a hundred million,” Jeff said hotly. “Especially not for a guy who wants to burn it. That’s disgusting! That’s criminal and inhuman and anyone involved in something like that should be shot.”

“Heavens above, calm down. I was only joking with you.”

“Has anybody informed the authorities?”

“Called the police, you mean? Of course not. These are rumors, Jeff, nothing more. You know how people like to gossip in this underworld of ours. It’s probably all hot air. After all, you said yourself that stealing the Shroud would be impossible.”


“It would.”

“Well then. Have another drink.”

Jeff did. But he could no longer relax. The image of some bearded, robed, Iranian lunatic dousing the Holy Shroud in gasoline refused to dislodge itself from his brain. Eventually he asked Domingo, “Did you hear a name at all? Among all these sources of yours. Did anyone know who the ‘brilliant American’ was supposed to be?”

Domingo said, “As a matter of fact, I did. Not that it meant anything to me.” He looked Jeff directly in the eye and asked innocently, “Have you ever heard of Daniel Cooper?”

“HAVE YOU EVER HEARD of Daniel Cooper?”

This time it was Jeff speaking. He was at another dinner table, also in Spain, fourteen years earlier. Had it really been that long?

Madrid. Jeff and Tracy were both in town to steal Goya’s Puerto from the Prado, although neither would admit to the other. Jeff had booked a table at the Jockey, an elegant restaurant on Amador de los Ríos. Tracy had agreed to join him. He could see her now, sitting opposite him, radiant as always. Jeff couldn’t remember what she was wearing, but he remembered the challenge blazing in her green eyes. They were competing with each other. The dance had begun.

Jeff thought, I love her.

I’m going to beat her to that painting.

And then I’m going to marry her.

“Who?” Tracy asked.

“Daniel Cooper. He’s an insurance investigator, very bright.”

“What about him?”

“Be careful. He’s dangerous. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.”

“Don’t worry.”

Jeff had put his hand over Tracy’s.

“But I have been. You’re very special. Life is more interesting with you around, my love.”

Madrid had been the start of everything. Jeff and Tracy had fallen in love there. And all the while Daniel Cooper had hovered like a shadow in the background. On the trip to Segovia, Cooper had tailed them in a Renault. That night, Jeff had taken Tracy to the bodega where they’d watched some flamenco dancers perform, their wild frantic rhythms mimicking Jeff and Tracy’s own desire, undeniable now.

Cooper was there too. Brooding. Waiting.

Jeff did beat Tracy to the Puerto, stealing it out from under her nose after she’d done all the hard work, poor darling. It was years before she forgave him.

But Tracy wasn’t the only one who’d been outsmarted. After Madrid, Daniel Cooper followed Tracy and Jeff across Europe, always just half a step behind. Jeff had grown increasingly fearful of him, but Tracy never took him seriously.

Jeff thought, Cooper was the third person in our relationship from the start. He was Tracy’s shadow.

“JEFF?” DOMINGO MU?OZ’S VOICE dragged Jeff back into the present. “Are you all right?”

“Hmm? Oh, yes. I’m fine.”

“I lost you there for a moment. So I take it you do know Daniel Cooper?”

“In a way,” said Jeff. “Although when I knew him he wasn’t a criminal. Quite the opposite in fact. Is he here, in Seville?”

“That’s what I heard.”

Jeff frowned.

Domingo said, “You look worried. Do you think Cooper might really try something like this?”

“I don’t know what he might try,” Jeff said truthfully.

“Do you think he could succeed?”

Jeff thought for a moment.

“No. It’s impossible. Daniel Cooper’s very smart. But no one could steal the Shroud.”