THE MYSTERY OF THE DIAMOND NECKLACE (Chapter 1 of 3)

FUENTE

A necklace of diamonds, a successful spy already retired and a love never forgotten will be mixed in the three chapters of this story of mystery, action,* glamour* and passion.

When Brooks took the package delivered by the mailman in his hands, he never imagined that this gesture would be a radical change in his life. At sixty, already retired from espionage, a true passion to which he dedicated more than thirty years of his life, it had become routine and, therefore, boring. But that day, when he had his frugal breakfast consisting of yogurt, granola and fresh fruit, having already walked the seven statutory blocks and taken a cold shower, he heard somene knocked on his door. Was the postman handed him a package, gave him to sign and then went whistling softly while Brooks closed the door.

He lit a cigarette and opened the small package that strangely had no sender. It contained a rigid leather case, with golden edges, those that open and close under pressure.
When he opened it, reclining on the background of very dark blue velvet, almost black, he saw the jewel. A diamond necklace ... legitimate diamonds set in gold. Work of a skilled goldsmith who had made a sober, elegant and magnificent design.
A delicate filigree surrounded the largest diamond, almost the size of a walnut, which hung alone while the other smaller ones seemed to escort the main gem.
Brooks was ecstatic at the beauty of the jewel while his mental calculator accumulated possible figures in dollars. If they were legitimate diamonds, their value would be ... incalculable! And of course they were legitimate, well ... no one was going to hang zircons in 18 carat gold worked so prodigiously!

A small pale yellow paper stood out under the collar. He unfolded it carefully. A few words that were noted had been written in a hurry in a letter that seemed familiar, they said: "Take care of the baby for a few days. So you save my life "
Only that. That calligraphy perhaps brought him some reminiscence of the past that he did not finish concreting ... it was like when someone says to have a word "on the tip of the tongue".
It seemed to him that there was a fragrance from the piece of paper that faded before impacting the sensitivity of his nose, so he took the paper and pulled it towards his nose, but he only smelled the characteristic paper smell, distorted by the smell of cigarette smoke.
He slid his fingers through the bright "escort" stones of the brooch. He caressed the scrolls and watermarks in which it was set. Quickly he returned the diamond to its case, went to the bathroom, rolled the rubber carpet that was located in front of the sanitary cup, expertly raised one of the ceramics revealing a false floor with an opening of approximately 4 x 6 inches and a depth of 8 inches. There he introduced the case, threw the rest of the cigarette in the pot, rinsed his mouth, finished his breakfast and went to buy the newspaper as every day. His countenance, as always, peaceful and serene, did not reveal the questions that were bubbling inside him:

Who had sent the necklace? Why did he imply that owning the necklace put his life at risk? How was it possible that his photographic memory could not reach the owner of a well-known letter? Worrying, age (or Mr. Alzheimer) was beginning to make its own!
Two weeks passed in which the adrenaline and the mystery activated with new nuances his inner life. Until one morning someone slipped a small note under his door. Identical letter, identical yellow paper:
"June 14, 2:45 p.m. Bar Restaurant Pirate Corner, Carabaño street intersect with Lisandro Hernández Avenue, Cura Village. Table 5. It's already reserved for you. Take the baby *"

He knew the place. More than a bar, it looked like a tavern. A small place, cozy but poorly lit. With plenty of movement at lunchtime and from 6 p.m. At 2:45 it was totally lonely.
He arrived at 2:30. Not only was his table reserved but someone had ordered to be served as many times as he wanted that refreshing drink, a mixture invented by him that consisted of ¾ parts of Pilsen beer, ¼ of 7up and two ice cubes.
Well, if there was any doubt, this would completely confirm that the appointment was with someone very, very close to the past and who also knew where and how he lived in the present.

2:43 His sharp eyes did not lose sight of the door.

2:44 He took another long drink of the drink.

2:45 The door was crossed by glamour and passion, that mixture of refinement and fire that surrounded, preceded and was the wake of Valeria. His heart jumped, his breathing stopped, butterflies fluttered in his stomach and he heard a long, deep ringing in his ears.

He tried to disguise his embarrassment but something in the rictus of her lips and her contained smile warned him that she had noticed everything and that, as always, just had fun with it.
Twenty years seemed to have not even touched her face. She looked just ... more ... Mature? No, that was not the word. He could not conclude his analysis because she already was near his table.

He stood up to receive her:

Valeria - His voice trembled a little.

The green eyes that had accompanied him so many times in his dreams sparkled with some mischief.
He listened to her lilting voice while - now yes - he got the fragrance that Champagne of Caron
She had not changed her perfume. How could he have forgotten her handwriting?
He had not forgotten it. There was - consciously or unconsciously - blocked any memory that led him to it. And there he was, again, after twenty years, looking at her sarcastically while his heart persisted in the painstaking task of unlocking, breaking down barriers, dropping armor and presenting it again completely vulnerable to the woman for whom he had given life, and the one that would be very capable of taking it away.

Valeria - repeated with devotion, as one who prays the kyrie

-Hi, Brooks.

He tried of kissing her cheek, but she *cut * his gesture of extending her hand.

-Brooks, Brooks Is the baby with you?
He shook her hand for the fleeting moment she allowed him and proceeded to reach for his chair to take a seat. The innkeeper approached and, without asking a question, renewed the contents of his glass while serving the same drink in a cup to Valeria.

-Give me the case
He handed it to her. She opened it barely, just to verify the content. His emerald pupils sparkled again and, looking at him, she said:

-By returning my necklace, you have ceased to be the most powerful man in the world.
She smiled and continued talking with studied parsimony:

-Here ... is the fuze that can trigger World War III ... or stop it. What do you think, Brooks? Powerful the baby, huh?

Do not miss the second chapter of this series of three THE MYSTERY OF THE DIAMOND NECKLACE