The Looters by Harold Robbins Page B

enormous re-created gate that the Iraqis had built at the modern entrance to the ancient ruins. I didn’t add that she was also a shady lady, the protectress of prostitutes and alehouses.
    The gate, blue with gold and white trim, resembled the entrance to a medieval castle. As with the original design, metallic images of dragons and young bulls were embedded in the walls.
    Once you came through the gate, the Hanging Gardens, ziggurat terraces with sloping sides covered with carpets of magnificent flowers and vines, flowed down on both sides of the aisle. We called the pathway Processional Way, naming it after the ancient thoroughfare.
    At the far end was the Tower of Babel, the “Gate of God.”
    According to the Bible, the Babylonians wanted to build a tower that reached the heavens. But God disrupted the work by so confusing the languages of the workers that they could no longer understand one another.
    Along the path, I placed exhibits—a fierce Assyrian in a Babylonian war chariot, statues, vases, a ninth century A.D. reproduction of the Code of Hammurabi, perhaps the oldest promulgation of laws in human history, and other artifacts of the era. Each museum piece was placed in a scene that recounted the story of Babylon.
    The only thing missing was a centerpiece.
    Then I found it.
    When the auction hammer fell on my bid for the Mask of Semiramis, I had my showpiece—and my place in museum lore.
    Both Hiram and Eric basked in the publicity light that the Babylonian theme generated… and ignored the fact that I was the one who came up with the idea of making the Piedmont a theme museum.
    I arrived inside the museum just as the public announcement came on to remind people that the museum was closing in ten minutes. Although we had hired a professional event planner to supervise the event, I double-checked everything, on the theory that if anything could go wrong, it would.
    The museum was closing earlier than normal because of the private reception at six o’clock. The professional caterers needed three hours to set everything up and I figured an extra hour on top of that in case of an unexpected surprise. I instructed the planner to furnish the food tables with platters of fancy hors d’oeuvre, as well as expensive wine and champagne. Nothing but the best. Two chocolate waterfalls, one milk and one dark, made from premier chocolate, surrounded by mounds of fruit and cookies for dipping, made up the dessert table. Who didn’t love chocolate?
    The extra guards I had hired to make a show of security for Semiramis were already on duty.
    As I walked through the museum, I noticed a man suddenly reach out to touch a marble nude statue on display. The security sensor immediately sounded. One of the guards quickly approached him and guided him out. Although we had signs posted throughout the museum that prohibited touching, for some reason people always had an urge to touch the nude statue. The same went for religious art. I never understood why.

Chapter 12
    Abdullah waited anxiously on the sidewalk outside the Piedmont Museum for the Iraqi UN delegation to arrive, including its ambassador. He planned to accompany the delegation when they entered the museum.
    “The diplomats are invited to a blasphemy and a sacrilege,” Abdullah had told his daughter when he left the house. “They will stand by the looted treasures of our country and smile as their pictures are taken. But will one of them raise their voice and say that Iraqi culture belongs in Iraq? Will even one of them ask how Americans would feel if the Statue of Liberty was dismantled and shipped to Baghdad?”
    His long-suffering daughter refused to answer. But as he was going down the stairs, she had told him, “Don’t call me if you are arrested. I will tell them I don’t know you.”
    She was right, of course. What he was doing was foolish, even stupid, and even he realized it. He was going to storm the museum and expose the fraud. To attempt that in Iraq when