Reign of Coins (15 page)

I gently removed the stamp from its perch to keep from jiggling the door handle, and quickly swiped my access key. In the next instant, I threw open the door and moved into the darkened room, somersaulting across the floor when I didn’t immediately detect anyone. Noises will usually draw some type of movement—even slight—from an assassin. I came up quickly in a crouched position, ready to launch myself in any direction, whether to avoid gunfire or meet an attacker head on. Of course, if it was Viktor Kaslow, everything I just did would produce a good laugh from him and little else.

“That has to be the sorriest defensive roll I’ve ever seen, William!” A gleeful voice announced from the bathroom. “Maybe you should stay retired!”

Cedric Tomlinson, my former field boss. Normally, his jovial voice would lift my heart and disarm my natural wariness. But, after what Roderick revealed to me the other night, I felt apprehensive. Cedric could be here to eliminate me and/or my progeny.

“Come on in here, Alistair,” he said, stepping into our room while turning the bathroom light on behind him. Despite nearing his fifty-sixth birthday, Cedric’s full hairline and flawless ebony skin made him look late-thirties at worst. And, that’s only because he carried a little gray in his closely trimmed beard and hair. He flashed the dimpled movie-star smile he’s known for and opened his palms as he raised his arms above his head. Not carrying a weapon in either hand, he motioned more urgently for Alistair to come inside. “We’ve got some serious shit to discuss.”

My son took a tentative step into our room and looked at me for further direction. I nodded for him to shut the door behind him and join me where I stood.

“How did you find us?” I asked, while directing Alistair to stand behind me. If Cedric intended to kill us, he would have to take me out first. “Did you follow us tonight?”

I casually tossed the rubber stamp to him.

“Tonight? Where’d y’all go?”

He looked perplexed as he caught the stamp. He twirled it in his hands for a moment to study it. When he looked back up at me again, his brow was furrowed.

“Wherever you went, is it where you picked this up?”

“We found it waiting for us just now when we returned to our room,” I said, feeling more vulnerable than I had when we first discovered our breached secrecy moments earlier. “It was resting on the door handle, when less than twenty minutes ago it was inside an  abandoned office in the warehouse district.”

If Cedric hadn’t placed it there, since he was waiting for us inside our room, it had to be done by someone else. Logic pointed to Kaslow. No one, other than someone with unusual skills, could’ve picked the item up after we left Cheung Yung Fa’s office and beaten us back to our hotel room in time to get it perched just right on the door handle. Not to mention, I didn’t sense a normal human presence. Whoever had placed the stamp was long gone by the time we returned to our room. If it wasn’t Kaslow, then another immortal was involved.

Let me add a caveat as to why I believe no normal human being could’ve accomplished this ‘prank’—not even with the fact we walked four blocks after the limousine dropped us off. If the perpetrator was human, and we hadn’t run into them in the lobby or elevator, I would’ve sensed their presence. Mortal human beings leave a distinct scent that hovers in the air for several minutes, and sometimes as long as fifteen to twenty minutes. However, people who have died to their original physical makeup and gained a new immortal one also carry an odor—one that’s completely different from our natural state.

These supernatural essences fade in under a minute. That’s my basis for labeling this as an immortal’s doing. I did pick up Cedric’s human scent, although it was faint until I opened the door and entered our hotel room. It’s what alerted me to the possibility of an assassin lying in wait, and it was distinctly separate from what happened outside of our room. And, no, it’s not that unusual to be facing two entirely different enemies at once, as any seasoned agent will confirm. Still, I’ll admit that sometimes my scientific theories are as flawed as my attempts to roll for cover in a cramped hotel room.

“Well, you should know I had nothing to do with this,” said Cedric.

He tossed the stamp back to me after casting a worried glance at the door. Obviously, he shared my conclusion that the stamp had been placed on the door handle after he snuck into our room, roughly half an hour ago by my guess.

“The only reason I flew out here is to try and talk some sense into you about helping us intercept Christian Morrow’s plans to purchase an unusual weapon that can discreetly kill thousands at a time,” he continued “We know you’ve been in contact with him, and we also know he has high regard for Alistair. But, time is of the essence here. He’ll be on his private jet headed for Singapore this Saturday afternoon, and will arrive in Syria by Sunday night. This can only mean Morrow is closing in on a deal for this weapon as we speak.”

“What’s it going to take for you guys to take my retirement seriously?”

“Does that mean you won’t help us?”

God, how I wanted to say ‘That’s
exactly
what I mean!’ But I couldn’t do it. Granted, I don’t work for the CIA anymore. Period. If not for the fact I genuinely disliked this Morrow cat almost as much as I loathed Kaslow, I would’ve said ‘no thanks’ and immediately ushered Cedric out of our room.

My gut told me this situation wasn’t as clear-cut as I wanted it to be. I knew with certainty Cedric was talking about the Mantle of Genghis Khan. I came to Hong Kong for my elusive coin and end my eight hundred year wait to retrieve it. However, more and more, I felt an additional burden upon my soul, as if keeping the armored vest out of Morrow’s hands was as critical to my salvation as collecting the full thirty coins I took as payment to betray Jesus Christ. It was as if I’d be betraying him all over again if I allowed a weapon of mass destruction—even an ancient one—to find its way into the hands of someone desperately crazy enough to use it. A multitude of innocent souls could perish, and the blame could at least partially be laid at my feet.

I wanted no part of that reality any more than I wanted to share commerce with the crooked American businessman and his immortal Russian cohort.

“I don’t know what I’ll do,” I said. “I have some questions. Answer them, and we’ll see.”

“Okay…I’m game,” said Cedric, wearing a smug grin.

He looked over at Alistair, who merely shrugged. Neither one knew where I was going with this, although my boy would surely catch on in a moment.

“How did you find us? Was it through Roderick?”

“Roderick? Hmmmm…. How interesting you’d start with him,” he said. The mere fact he acknowledged Roderick’s existence told me more than perhaps he realized.

“So, you know him?”

“Yes, I do. I’ve known him for years, though he’s a creepy fucker worse than you.”

Well, that set up another question I had on my mind…but I decided to wait and stick with my first agenda.

“Did he tell you that we were staying here?”

“No. I haven’t talked to Roderick since the day you stormed out of Michael’s office.”

“Then, how did you find us?”

“Peter Snelling?” He laughed. “For Christ’s sake, couldn’t you pick the other alias you have of Saul Baronas?”

Well, that sucks. They weren’t secret aliases anymore.

“It was the bank cards, huh?”

“It was the fact that once ‘Peter Snelling’ ended up in the hotel’s database, and it was in close proximity from where you were last seen—as William Barrow at the Royal Garden—we knew it was you.”

He chuckled…either at how simply effective the agency’s common sense procedures still were, or how frigging foolhardy I am. I wanted to slap the damned smugness clean off his face. But, since he hadn’t mentioned Alistair’s alias, maybe I could still use that one again later, to protect him.

“Next question…who do you think I really am?”

I’d be lying if I said my pulse didn’t quicken while I watched him study me curiously for a moment.

“Why, you’re William Barrow, of course!” Here came that Hollywood smile again. “That’s all I’ve ever known you as, right? In fact, that’s all anyone working in D.C. has referred to you by, from what I gather, Willie Boy! They tell me that you’ve had the name for damned near one hundred years—which opens a whole new can of worms, if we want to go there. Or, we can just skip ahead to the naked truth and call a spade for what it is….”

I hated him right then. Not completely, since he and I have shared some enjoyable experiences—great ones, actually—over the years. The way he looked at me as he watched me squirm was truly excruciating.

“Ah, calm down, Willie,” he teased, shaking his head in amusement. “There isn’t anyone at the agency gonna walk up to you and say, ‘Hey, Judas, how’s that coin collectin’ biz working out for you?’”

So, it really was true. Roderick hadn’t been bullshitting me after all…as I sadly had hoped.

“Seriously, man, we don’t give a rat’s ass about what you do on your own time or who you really are.” He glanced at Alistair, whose mortified expression on my behalf had yet to lessen. “And get this…you ain’t the only guy working for us who’s as old as you. In fact, several of your
other
buddies have been turning tricks for us for years.”

Perfect analogy. I felt almost as dirty and unloved as a junkie whore working for an ungrateful pimp.

“Well, that’s disappointing,” I said, which was true. And, the morose look I gave to Cedric should’ve told him I didn’t completely despise him. “So, you guys are obviously looking at this Morrow problem as me versus Viktor Kaslow, right? Contrary to our less than pleasant discussion about him in Michael’s presence, I’m sure you now see the monster he has become.”

“Yes, we do,” he agreed, and his smile disappeared. Sam Daniels was a close friend, and I’m sure it took every ounce of restraint to not foolishly pursue Kaslow on his own. “But the greater good always outweighs any personal vendettas I might have, or even you might have, against someone like Viktor Kaslow.”

“Well, okay…so here’s my third question. What exactly do you guys expect us to do, now that Kaslow knows where we are and Mr. Morrow likely is aware by now that we’re connected with you? Do you expect him to let us chum up again—especially after the tense exchange we had this afternoon?”

Cedric didn’t answer right away, looking away as if gathering his thoughts.

“The mikes we set up the other day were still in operation this afternoon, inside the boardroom,” he said, his tone hushed and thoughtful. “I agree it’ll be tough to try and work our ‘Plan A’ of getting Morrow’s trust through his previous connection with you, Alistair. But…there might be another way you two can get us close enough to intercept him before he makes the purchase of the Mantle of Genghis Kahn.”

“So, it’s the famed armor vest you seek? Sounds like a dangerous operation you guys are best suited for,” I said, “I won’t endanger Alistair’s life any longer, not to mention other innocent people because Kaslow is around. It’s in our best interest not to get any more involved with this situation than we already have.”

Cedric chuckled and sat down on the edge of Alistair’s bed, shaking his head as if I had just sprung a hilarious joke on him.

“This isn’t the time to play coy, brother,” he said. “We know you’ve been in frequent contact with Cheung Sulyn, and that she brought you to the hospital where Cheung Yung-ching is living out his remaining days. We also know Cheung Yung-ching’s father was the last person connected to the mantle—we have photographs taken in 1928 that show it and some prized coins on display in an open seaman’s chest, including a handful of silver shekels from around the time you were born. The chest is said to be hidden somewhere in Hong Kong, and Morrow has told several acquaintances—including two of our undercover people—a map leads to this hiding place.”

“He mentioned this map in our presence yesterday,” offered Alistair, pausing to look at me for my reaction. I shrugged, betting he’d be smart and reveal only information the microphones would’ve also captured. “And, I heard him say something the day before, on the main floor, about it being painted on some sort of disk.”

“One made of teakwood,” said Cedric. “It wasn’t unusual to carve or paint a map on teakwood back in the day. However, no one has ever seen this map, and we have two other witness accounts on record detailing a leather map. I’m betting the map is more along those lines, and I believe Morrow’s aware of this possibility. But, it isn’t why I mentioned the map. I brought it up because I damn well guarantee William here is looking for the same thing, since finding the mantle could mean finding one of his bloodiest prized coins.”

Ouch!

I get this is a logical conclusion, but it made me feel a little sleazy—as if I was just like the other treasure hunters out there, plundering for their personal gain. Hey, all I want is to gather what once belonged to me and bring my deadly coins before The Almighty. Even if it isn’t enough to earn a pardon for my soul, perhaps it will prevent further suffering to those who could otherwise come in contact with the coins.

“I know you pretty well by now, William,” said Cedric, as he stood again, this time to stretch his back. The sure signal our conversation was nearing its end. “I believe you’ve already learned something about this map, and you’ll be making your own move to collect your coin. Ain’t I right about that?”