The Ancient Breed (13 page)

“I will, and I suggest that you do the same with Lisa Anders.” Crow chuckled as Nick disconnected the call.

Nick had just finished shaving and dressing when Lisa Anders phoned again.

“Nick, I’m so glad you’re still there.”

“Is everything alright? You sound shook up.”

“I am. You’re not going to believe what we found down here at the construction site.”

“More bones?”

“
Fresh
bones. It looks like two guys blew up the construction equipment and then were ripped apart like rag dolls.”

“Would you explain what you mean by ‘ripped apart’?”

“Their bones were scattered everywhere.”

“Jesus.”

She detailed the monstrous, three-toed footprints they found at the crime scene and how they had followed the prints to a crater-sized hole in the swamp muck. She described the square, gray area on the contractor’s thermography scans, and then, after drawing a deep breath, she shared her incredible speculations about what was actually buried beneath the swamp muck out there.

After his recent experiences with the supernatural and magic, Nick was inclined to believe her, although he was unclear how she had acquired her facts.

“You’re telling me that the fountain of youth is buried out there? That’s pretty difficult to swallow,” he said suspiciously.

“Well, swallow it, Nick. There’s even more.” Lisa informed him about the guardian demon but left out all references to Alick Tobhor.

“A demon, huh? They’re not the FBI’s responsibility. Try calling Ghostbusters, Professor,” he retorted.

“Kid all you want, Nick, but you know I’m not pulling your leg about this. If you don’t help me, I’m afraid Blossom’s in more danger from the demon guardian than from the kidnappers.”

Nick proceeded cautiously. He wasn’t ready to strike at her bait. “And why’s that?”

“Because Blossom’s kidnappers took the gold chest with them, and if I’m right, Ponce de Leon stashed some water from the fountain of youth inside.”

“So?” he asked as casually as he could, despite his growing concern for Blossom’s safety.

“The demon was conjured to kill all trespassers and those who possess any amount of water from the fountain. If you still doubt my story, why don’t you stop by the Charlotte County morgue and take a peek at the two corpses from the construction site – or what’s left of them – after the demon attacked them,” she said angrily.

Nick paced his porch. Lisa Anders’ story was incredulous. If she was on the level, Blossom’s kidnapping was not only tied into a terrorist plot but also connected to a killer demon. And the pathetic part was, Nick believed her.

“How do you know so much about this demon guardian?” he demanded.

“I . . .came across the story when I was studying for my doctorate,” she lied.

“So it’s common knowledge?”

“No, not really. I had to do a lot of digging for that information.” Perspiration glistened on her forehead.

“I don’t believe you, Professor,” he stated tersely.

“The demon is real!” she stressed.

“
That
I believe,” he said. “But for whatever reason, you’re lying about your source of the information, and the more I consider it, the more I’m inclined to believe that you’re a witch.”

“A what?” She mopped her forehead with her shirtsleeve.

“You heard me.”

“That’s preposterous! There are no such things!” she argued loudly. “Are you going to help me or not?”

“I haven’t decided.”

“While you’re deliberating your verdict, consider this:
Don’t waste your special gifts
.” She ended the call and immediately regretted her angry outburst. Her frustration may have permanently ruined her chances of a reunion with Nick.

Nick was stunned at Lisa’s words.
Don’t waste your special gifts
. How could she have possibly known Gabriella’s exact words? Something was terribly wrong with this daunting woman. No ordinary woman could know what she did. He suddenly recalled Grandfather’s opinion that there was bad mojo inside Blossom’s motel room. Maybe Lisa Anders was the bad mojo. At this point, there was only one option open to him: Meet the mysterious Lisa Anders.

14

A

fter receiving Nick’s message from Crow, Neo drove to the Charlotte County sheriff’s facility that was housed in a modern, three-story tan brick-and-stucco building. The sky was clear and the gulf breeze was brisk, rustling the palms, the neatly manicured shrubbery, and the pink-and-white-flowered oleanders bordering the sidewalk between the parking lot and front entrance.

Once inside, a pleasant twenty-something receptionist greeted Neo. He showed her his FBI identification and requested to see Sheriff Berger. Moments later, a uniformed man with a slight paunch and a gray-flecked, brown brush cut motioned Neo into his office. Once his office door was closed, he introduced himself and offered Neo a seat opposite his sizeable, ranch oak desk.

“What can I do for you, Special Agent Doss?” Ed Berger asked, leaning back in his plush office chair.

“I’d like to know how your investigation of the two murders at the Warnke construction site is proceeding ,” Neo asked. “I understand that there are some unusual circumstances involved in the case.”

Berger smiled. “Since when is the FB of I interested in a couple of local murders?”

Neo bent forward and flattened his massive hands on Berger’s desk. “We have strong reason to believe that the sabotage of the site is related to a terrorist plot we’ve been tracking. That puts this investigation right smack in the middle of our jurisdiction, Sheriff, and of course we’d appreciate your cooperation.”

Berger swallowed hard. “Certainly, certainly.”

“What information do you have on the murder victims?”

Berger straightened and slid a manila folder across the desk. Neo opened it and examined the victims’ photos and rap sheets.

“Two local punks with a long history of crime,” the sheriff explained. “We arrest them, and the courts set them free. It’s a little game we and the judges play in Charlotte County.”

Neo looked up. “It’s a game being played across the entire country,” he corrected Berger. “Have you checked their recent activities such as phone logs and personal contacts?”

“We’re working on it.”

“Good. Also, you might want to check the wires for reports of stolen C-4. I’m betting that they weren’t dumb enough to steal it around here.”

Berger stood and glared at Neo. “Look, mister FBI man, I know how to run an investigation.”

“Good. I’ll be calling you from time to time for updates.”

“And why should I be at your beck and call?”

Neo stood and towered above Ed Berger. “Because I asked you to, that’s why. And if that’s not a good enough reason for you, Sheriff, then you can call my boss, Rance Osborne, FBI Director. I’m sure he’ll make time in his busy schedule to speak with you about this case.”

Berger backed off. “All right, call me anytime you want.”

“That’s more like it.” He opened a folder and took out a computer photo printout. “And by the way, Sheriff Berger, I’d like you to circulate this picture to all the local authorities.”

“Jay Walkingman? Wanted for kidnapping? Kidnapping who?”

Neo glanced up for divine inspiration. “For the kidnapping of Blossom Smith. Remember?”

“Yes, yes, I’ll circulate it.”

“Thank you.” Neo turned and left the office.
Stupid little man.
Neo planned to

run his own investigation of Jamille’s and Sirjo’s murders. He didn’t trust Ed Berger with the task of finding his own ass with both hands.

Neo climbed into the Crown Victoria loaner and headed north on I-75 toward Tampa. Before he met Nick at the airport, he planned to distribute Walkingman’s pictures at the Tampa FBI office and order them to issue a Level One Bulletin on the guy as a suspected kidnapper and terrorist.

He scowled. Something monumental must be going down if Rance Osborne unchained Nick from his
Orion Sector
desk and let him loose on the world.

Nick closed his eyes as his commercial flight to Tampa, Florida, lifted off the runway, and he attempted to deduce Walkingman’s next move. The plane arrived at 2:48 p.m., and he searched for Neo outside the baggage claim area.

Nick’s plan was to assist his Tampa agents today as they inspected each of the political visitation venues, and tomorrow he would squeeze in a meeting with the indomitable Lisa Anders and personally examine the strange bones and the damaged construction site.

However, sometime in the very near future, he would have to deal with a more critical state of affairs. He neglected to inform Rance that he was traveling to Florida to supervise the investigation himself. When Rance discovered that his
Orion Sector
director had disobeyed his uncompromising orders, there would be hell to pay.

Grandfather suddenly materialized in Crow’s motel room. “Good morning Running Bear.”

“Grandfather, I wish you’d stop doing that to me. You’re going to give me a heart attack one day,” Crow complained as he tried to calm his drumming heartbeat.

“I didn’t want anyone to see me enter.”

“For heaven’s sake, why not?”

“There may be spies here.”

Crow laughed. “You’ve been watching way too many James Bond movies. I’m just a computer manager. I don’t jump from speeding trains or scale high buildings.”

“I see. Well then, have you been working on locating great-granddaughter?”

“Absolutely. Our chief suspect is none other than Jay Walkingman.”

Grandfather shook his head sadly. “I feared as much. Do you and Neo have any leads to his whereabouts?”

Crow’s face was suddenly grim. “Not yet.”

“Maybe I can help. I may not know where the bastard is, but I can track evil,” Grandfather offered.

Crow was clearly frustrated by the old man’s inexplicable comment. “Am I missing something here? What evil are you talking about?”

“There was a great evil inside the gold chest, and now, at this very moment, another, greater evil is tracking the chest and the people who possess it.”

“Meaning exactly . . . what?”

“Don’t you read the newspapers or watch the television news?” he asked accusingly.

“Not too often,” Crow admitted.

“Two men were murdered last night at the same construction place that Professor Anders mentioned yesterday. News cameras zoomed in on huge, three-toed footprints in the mud leading from the construction place to a larger hole nearby. All the local and national news reporters are speculating that something dug its way out of the ground and murdered the two men,” he explained. “Actually, pulled them apart.”

Crow was amazed. “You’re sh . . . kidding me, right?”

“No, I am not
shitting
you, Running Bear.”

“Sorry,” Crow said respectfully. “That’s the spot that the local county coroner was talking about at his press yesterday – I might add, at the most amateur press conference I’ve ever seen. He claimed that quite a few ancient, badly deformed human bones had been discovered on the site of Senator Hollingworth’s future
perfect city
.”

Grandfather nodded.

“And now you’re telling me that a bigfoot-type monster rose from the swamp last night and butchered two men?”

“Must I repeat everything, Running Bear!” Grandfather complained.

“No, I’ve got it. So I think you’re saying that you can track this Bigfoot guy to Blossom, because it’s going after the gold chest and the kidnappers.”

The old man nodded his head sadly. “I’ll never know how you constructed such a brilliant computer from such an ordinary brain!”

“Now wait a . . .”

“No, grandson,
you
wait a minute!” he shouted. “Are you going to help me track this demon and rescue your niece, or are you going to stay here and play the white man’s game of twenty questions?”

Crow switched off his laptop feed to Geronimo and wrapped his arm around Grandfather’s shoulder. “I’m with you. Let’s go.”