The Collector 5: The Crystal Flacon Read online

  THE COLLECTOR 5:

  THE CRYSTAL FLACON

  Jeanne Barrack

  ®

  www.loose-id.com

  Warning

  This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. Loose Id® e-books are for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

  * * * * *

  This book contains explicit sexual content, graphic language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable.

  The Collector 5: The Crystal Flacon

  Jeanne Barrack

  This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Published by

  Loose Id LLC

  1802 N Carson Street, Suite 212-2924

  Carson City NV 89701-1215

  www.loose-id.com

  Copyright © February 2007 by Jeanne Barrack

  All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared in any form, including, but not limited to printing, photocopying, faxing, or emailing without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC.

  ISBN 978-1-59632-413-8

  Available in Adobe PDF, HTML, MobiPocket, and MS Reader

  Printed in the United States of America

  Editor: Robert Buckley

  Cover Artist: Christine M. Griffin

  Dedication

  Dedicated to my husband, Steve. Without his brilliant idea, I never would have thought of the elusive, alluring Lucrezia Borgia.

  Chapter One

  “Damn, it just won’t stay flat!”

  Abby Foster fussed with the collar of her blouse wishing for the tenth time that she had put it in the cleaners rather than trying to save money and wash and iron it herself. She fluffed her hair and sighed. No help there. The humidity just caused it to curl even tighter, leaving her looking like a redheaded Brillo pad. She leaned in closer to the mirror over the vanity in the marble-lined elegant powder room to which she’d been directed. Was her mascara running? Damn, she looked like a raccoon!

  “Shit, might as well put on a clown outfit and floppy shoes!”

  She dabbed at her eyes with the soft, pink tissue she’d found, wiped the black smears and tugged at her knee-high pencil skirt. The straight lines emphasized her slim figure and the navy blue color went with just about any blouse, plus the skirt was wash and wear. Unfortunately, it also had seen better days. Only the safety pins edging the hem were keeping it up. She desperately needed the fee that her mysterious client was offering her to find a nanny for him.

  She sighed one more time and squared her shoulders. He was hiring her for her agency’s ability to find a nanny for any situation, not her wardrobe.

  Time to meet this mysterious Collector.

  * * * * *

  “Now, my dear, don’t worry. He won’t bite you. He’s really quite harmless.”

  Abby followed the elegantly coiffed, middle-aged woman who led her through the echoing foyer of the enormous mansion. As they crossed the polished parquet floor, she felt as though she were rushing to meet her destiny. She knew nothing about the job other than that Matti, one of her oldest, most trusted colleagues, had recommended her for it.

  Finally, they reached a carved wooden door and the woman who’d introduced herself simply as Phelan, knocked briskly.

  “Enter.”

  The door swung wide and Abby stepped through into a darkened room. A single spot of light shone on the smooth, polished surface of a massive Victorian desk. A shadowy figure sat behind it, his long, lean fingers resting unmoving on top of a small, velvet box that shared a manila folder’s place of prominence in the circle of light.

  “Sit down, Ms. Foster. Thank you for coming.”

  Abby tried to discern something about the man from his speech. Something about his voice seemed familiar. She wished he’d move into the light but she doubted that he would. She cursed silently. She didn’t like this setup. Had Matti steered her wrong?

  “I’m sure you’re wondering why all the secrecy, but this job may be somewhat different from your other ones. Please, read the material in the folder.” He paused. “Then we’ll talk.”

  He slid the folder across the desk. Abby picked it up gingerly and opened it. The first thing she saw was a photo of an ornate crystal perfume flacon. Strange designs were incised on both the bottle and the stopper. She flipped to the printed information and took in the title: “The Crystal Flacon.”

  “Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”

  She could hear the amusement in the Collector’s voice as she began to read.

  The Crystal Flacon originally belonged to Lucrezia Borgia, born in the 15th century. Believed lost during World War II, the flacon was once more in the possession of Lucrezia’s descendents.

  Abby looked up from her reading. “What’s this all about? I thought you needed a nanny?”

  “Please, just read the file I’ve given you, then we’ll talk further.”

  She flipped through the clippings, her speed-reading training enabling her to absorb the information quickly, wondering why the Collector was interested in this Flacon. As far as she could tell, it was not for sale.

  Then she turned to the last piece of information and her heart stopped.

  Her eyes beheld a candid photo of a handsome, dark-haired man with a strong patrician nose. His coffee-colored eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled at a little girl with dark auburn hair and brilliant hazel eyes. He was one of the most handsome men she’d ever seen. She flipped over the photo. Duke Antonio d’Este and Lucrezia d’Este. She looked up, peering into the darkness.

  “I don’t understand. I guess you’re hiring my agency to find a nanny for this man’s daughter. But what’s this other stuff? Why show this to me?”

  “Because you’re perfect for the job.” He paused. “I know about Finding Justice.”

  Abby stared at the voice in the gloom. Matti. It had to have been him. How could he have betrayed her like this? They never took on a job until it had been discussed by everyone in the group. She laid the folder back on the desk.

  “If you know about Finding Justice then you know that I don’t go after things that are with their rightful owners.”

  “Not quite; the d’Este family is merely the flacon’s ... guardian.”

  “Oh? And to whom does it belong? You?”

  For a brief moment there was dead silence, then he spoke again in measured tones. “It’s part of a larger ... collection. It belongs with the other pieces.”

  Abby stared at the picture of the flacon and shook her head. “What’s so special about it?”

  “That’s really not necessary for you to know, Ms. Foster. All you need know is that it’s a vital part of my collection.”

  Part of Abby’s training included the techniques of interrogation and that meant noting the subtle nuances of voice and speech patterns. Though he masked it well, she could tell that the Collector was desperate to obtain this seemingly innocuous piece of glass.

  “Is it part of some sort of a weapon?”

  “I swear to you, Ms. Foster, it is no weapon.” He indicated the box. “Open it, please.”

  She picked up the small object and lifted the lid. Within the satin-lined cube lay an exquisit
ely carved bottle, appearing to be a perfect replica of the flacon in the picture.

  “A duplicate?”

  “An exact one. If you take the job, you switch the two bottles. The duke will never know the difference.”

  Abby shook her head. “I’d know.”

  Again she heard that smile in the voice. “So honorable. What if I offered you a million dollars?”

  Abby gasped.

  “I see that interests you. Think what you could do with that much money. The good you could do. In both your ventures.”

  Abby’s thoughts whirled. She looked at other pictures of the flacon in the file, taken from several different angles. There seemed to be no difference. She was tempted. She turned back to the picture of the duke and his daughter and assessed the photo. Behind the laughing faces there seemed to be a lingering trace of sadness. The information in the file mentioned the swift and sudden loss of the duke’s wife in a car accident. She could place a loving nanny there who could help the father and daughter cope with their loss.

  The bottle was merely an inanimate object, but if she accepted the Collector’s assignment, she could make a difference for the people involved. And then, with the money, help others.

  “I’ll do it. I’ll send one of my best, most experienced nannies over in a week.”

  The Collector applauded briefly. “Excellent! I’d hoped you’d agree.” He pushed an envelope toward her. “An advance. Since you’ll be going over to represent your nanny organization, you’ll need suitable outfits.”

  Abby started. The man obviously had a good eye. Her wardrobe was sadly lacking. But she hadn’t figured on taking the job herself. “I planned on having one of my staff make the contact and get the inside info, then I’d utilize that knowledge to switch the flacons.”

  Nannies, International had steadily built up a reputation. She had a stable of young and middle-aged nannies, male and female, with credentials that enabled them to go anywhere in the world and take care of children of both the rich and famous, and the widely traveled. An archaeologist wishing to keep his family near? No problem. An actor going on location in some faraway place? She had just the right nanny, someone who could even speak the language of the country. A very specialized service that could be a fairly lucrative one when there was a job to be had.

  And now there was.

  “That’s part of the deal, Abby -- oh, you don’t mind if I call you Abby, do you?”

  She shook her head. “No, that’s fine, but why not one of my people? I assure you, they’re all well-trained.”

  “You fit the profile perfectly. You speak Italian, you’re attractive and you’re young. The duke needs someone youthful and vital for his little girl. And, to be frank, the fewer people who know about this job, the better. You’ll gain the duke’s confidence, switch the flacons, resign your position and leave.”

  “How do we know he’ll hire me?”

  The Collector’s laughter filled the room. “He’s a man, Abby. He’d be a fool not to hire you. I assure you, the duke is no fool. Besides, I’ve taken care of that little detail. All the applicants he’s interviewed thus far have been supremely inadequate. Be yourself and he’ll hire you.”

  “I’m flattered.” She smiled. “Well, I haven’t been to Italy in a while.” Her smile broadened. “And there is the lure of a new wardrobe.” She rose. “I’ll be ready in a week. My passport is up to date.”

  “Excellent! You’ll be on your own, you realize. No contact, please, until you retrieve the flacon and bring it back. If you’re caught ...” His voice trailed off.

  “I know. You’ll ‘disavow any knowledge of me and my people’.”

  A shout of laughter burst from the darkness.

  “It’s not an impossible mission, Abby. I know you’ll succeed.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  * * * * *

  One Week Later

  Abby fastened her seatbelt, giving only half an ear to the attractive steward as he gave the typical welcome and safety reminders. She had to admit, though, that even a reminder to put her seat in an upright position sounded sexy when spoken in Italian. Her seatmate, thankfully, put on the plane’s headphones, closed her eyes and ignored her.

  As the plane leveled off, Abby leaned back and shut her tired eyes. She’d been busy the past week. As per her regular routine with a job, she’d committed the information given her to memory. A new wardrobe was next and she’d bought easy-care separates that could be folded into one lightweight suitcase. Using Eurofly service she’d arrive at the Bologna-Marconi airport with no need to fly into Rome.

  She sighed in contentment and fell into a deep, dream-filled sleep.

  * * * * *

  Rome -- 1498

  “You cannot turn away, my sister. It would be an insult to our father.”

  Juan’s whisper, near lost amid the raucous strains of music filling the banquet hall, reached only his sister’s ear. Her father, known to the Catholic world as Pope Alexander VI reigned over the feasting, seated in his massive, raised, gilded throne.

  She was almost eighteen, well past time to find her another husband now that her divorce from Giovanni was final. The candidates were among those attending this evening. She was to select the most virile after watching them perform with the women in the hall. They’d a multitude of partners to choose from -- the prostitutes or the guests. And if she felt like trying out those skills for herself, so much the better.

  Wine flowed like a swollen crimson stream as the guests swallowed draught after draught, wallowing in the never-ending tide.

  Loose-fitting clothing fluttered to the ground like leaves in fall; fewer layers made for quicker stripping and soon the guests would be as naked as the live, gilded statues of young men and women posed about the room. Each golden couple engaged in different erotic poses, inspiring the guests to copy them once they removed their garments.

  “Lucrezia, my daughter, ‘tis time to begin the ‘Ballet of the Chestnuts’. Come, here, my pretty one, and scatter the nuts.”

  Juan squeezed her hand as Lucrezia rose from her smaller, less ornate chair, pushed herself away from the table, and went to her father. She could feel the pulse beating in her throat. Her breasts, restrained behind the low-cut bodice of her gold cloth gown, threatened to spring free as she took a deep breath and stood before her father. He gestured to the gilded bowl of chestnuts placed on the small, gaudy table near his throne. “Here, cara mia, take the nuts and scatter them before the guests.”

  Lucrezia nodded, unable to speak without her voice betraying her sense of uncertainty. She hefted the bowl, and with a shaking hand, tossed the chestnuts from left to right onto the polished marble floor.

  The courtesans scrambled to collect them, weaving around the massive silver candelabra set up around the room. Their naked buttocks glistened in the candlelight, their breasts swayed as they bent, crawling along the floor, enticing the guests to join them.

  And they did.

  Returning to Juan, she found his attention fixed on the orgy that was taking place before them.

  He turned to her, his eyes blazing. “You must select one of the noblemen; pick the one who fucks the most females.” He smiled. “I’ll help.” He rose, unlaced his shirt, dropped it carelessly to the floor and walked away half-naked, leaving her to stare after him.

  She watched him saunter toward an energetic couple, the male thrusting his stiff cock into the woman’s rear. Mesmerized by the steady rhythm, Lucrezia was unable to tear away her gaze. Standing behind the male, Juan dropped his hose, and now, dressed only in a loincloth to cover his genitals, he fondled the male’s lean flanks. She saw him lean over and whisper something in the male’s ear, who then nodded.

  Juan pressed against the male’s backside, fumbling as he untied his loincloth, revealing his hard cock. With no further delay, he plunged it into the man’s willing body.

  Lucrezia closed her eyes, but the sounds -- the sounds of the men and women coupling battered against her e
ars. Grunts, moans, sighs, pants, sobs and screams overwhelmed the music issuing from the quartet of musicians situated in an obscure alcove.

  Broken words of passion assailed her, seeking and gaining a response.

  “Yes, yes!”

  “No, no!”

  “Harder!”

  “Softer!”

  “More!”

  “Stop!”

  The smell of sex rose around her. She brought a linen cloth to her nostrils, opened the compartment of her perfume ring, and doused the material. Her personal fragrance filtered through the musky odor, but only increased her reaction to the activities going on around her.

  Where to look?

  She turned toward the gilded figures of two men engaged in oral sex. The statues came alive before her eyes. Fascinated beyond her control, she watched as the kneeling figure sucked the cock of his partner with greedy enthusiasm.

  Her breath caught in her throat and moisture seeped between her thighs. She wondered how it would feel to have her lips do that to some lusty male. Her thoughts whirled as she observed the carnal acts going on around her, luring her to join in.

  It had been so long since she had made love.

  She moved toward the men and in a loud, commanding voice demanded to participate. With an unexpected graceful movement, the kneeling man relinquished his place.

  She knelt, taking the huge prick into her mouth, sucking it with hungry urgency. Giovanni had never let her touch his penis, but he was out of her life. Now she could indulge in her most erotic desires.

  She wondered if her lips would bear a golden stain from the gilded skin of the living statue. She didn’t care. She gripped the man’s buttocks and swallowed his seed as his orgasm struck. Gasping, she leaned her head against his thighs, gilding her cheek.

  She rose, stumbling, and grabbed the edge of the long banquet table. Her legs trembled as she made her way back to her seat. She sank down on the cushioned chair and found her gaze locked with one of the courtesans. The woman’s long, pointy nipples had been rouged. A man burrowed his face between her legs. The woman smiled at Lucrezia and hefted her breasts in her palms. She kneaded them, pulling at the nipples.