The Goddess Legacy (17 page)

“Elliott would have agreed,” Spencer said softly.

Allie considered his face. “You put on more makeup?”

“You can tell?”

“No. It’s just odd seeing you with the dye job and the permanent tan.”

He lowered his voice and, after glancing around, leaned toward them across the table. “Haven’t seen any more news reports,” he said, indicating the television that was switched to a local station. “So maybe Reynolds was actually able to nip that in the bud.”

“Hope so,” Allie said. “But there’s the question of now what.”

“We need to get the message translated and find someplace to hole up for the night,” Drake said.

“So far that hasn’t worked out so well for us,” Allie muttered. “Although I am getting tired.”

“I’m thinking we should split up,” Drake said.

“What would that accomplish?” Spencer asked.

“Decrease our risk?”

“I don’t see how. I’d think it increases it – two chances to get caught instead of one.”

“We need to find someplace they’d never expect,” Allie said.

“Right. Not like a houseboat,” Drake said.

“That was the phone. I’d bet anything,” said Spencer.

“Which you still have. Maybe that’s how we do it – we turn it on and put it on a bus or a train or something, and that leads them on a fruitless chase,” Allie said. “I saw that in a movie.”

“Let’s save that for when we really need it. I think what we want is a hole in the wall, and Allie and I go in as a couple – they won’t look twice at a couple, whereas three of us raises eyebrows. Then Drake shows up and rents a room, and we’re home free.” Spencer thought about it for a moment. “The trick will be to find someplace seedy enough not to care about ID, but safe enough so we don’t get knifed.”

“So a two- or three-star hotel,” Drake said.

“Near a bus or train station, ideally. Those places see a high turnover and nobody tends to pay much attention,” Spencer finished.

“I’ll look on the web,” Allie said. “Can I have my tablet?”

Spencer dug through her bag and handed her the computer. A waitress came by and took their order, and then Allie checked the time on her phone. “I need to call the professor before it gets too late and make an appointment for tomorrow.”

“He won’t be working at this hour,” Drake said.

“He gave me his cell. Remember? He said call whenever.”

“I think that might have been an expression.”

“Only one way to find out. The sooner we know what the script says, the sooner we can get out of Delhi. I’ll feel way better once we do.” She held up her new phone. “Worth a try. He said he works late.”

~ ~ ~

Dr. Sharma glanced at his cell phone on his office desk, set down his pen, and lifted the device to his ear.

“Good evening,” he answered.

“Dr. Sharma, I’m sorry to call so late. It’s Allie, from earlier today.”

“What a delightful surprise. I’m working late, so no bother at all.”

“You said to call you once we had the dagger.”

Sharma swallowed away the lump that instantly formed in his throat. “Yes. Absolutely.”

“We just got hold of it. We wanted to make an appointment – or would you like us to send you a photograph of the back? You were right about the script continuing on the reverse side.”

“How remarkable. You say you have it in your possession?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I’d love to see it in person, if you don’t mind. I’m just finishing up at the university, but perhaps…perhaps you’d be my guest for a late dinner?”

“Oh, we couldn’t impose on you.”

“Nonsense. It would be an honor. I’m an excellent cook, I assure you. It’s a guilty pleasure I get to indulge all too rarely.”

“You mean tonight?”

“If you like. I will be at my home within the hour.” Sharma did a quick calculation. “Shall we say nine o’clock? Is that too late for you?”

“Oh, no. Not at all. To be honest, I’m still on U.S. time, so my stomach doesn’t know what to do or when.”

“A common problem for travelers. It will take you three or four days to acclimate. Although they tell me it’s harder to adjust once you return.” Sharma hesitated. “Then nine, at my house. Let me give you the address. It’s by the Delhi Golf Course. You can tell any taxi – they’ll be able to find it.”

He recited the street number and Allie repeated it back to him. “Are you sure we aren’t imposing on you?”

“Of course not. It will be a treat. But perhaps the most important question: would you prefer French, Italian, or traditional Indian?”

“Whatever you like. It all sounds wonderful.”

“Well, I’ll do my best. Hopefully it won’t disappoint. And then we can take a look at your find. Quite exciting.”

Sharma hung up and looked at the pile of reports in front of him. He would come in early the next morning to catch up. Tonight he would see an artifact, which, if genuine, was a piece of history that had been lost for centuries. He lived for these moments and thanked Providence for whatever force had led the Americans to him.

He stood and stretched a kink out of his neck, and grazed the table with his prosthetic device – the intrusive clamp that acted as his pair of metal fingers. A childhood accident had robbed him of his hand, but he’d grown so used to the device he rarely thought of it and had adapted to the challenges his disability posed with the stoic acceptance with which he approached most things.

“Really most remarkable,” he muttered as he loaded his briefcase with paperwork. His assistant was still hard at it, seated at her small desk in the outer office. He emerged from his inner chamber and nodded to her as he walked by. “Good night, Divya. Remember to shut off the lights when you’re done.”

“Of course, Professor. Shouldn’t be too much longer.”

Sharma stepped through the door and hurried down the hall, his footsteps reverberating like gunshots in the largely empty building. Divya looked pensively at the door and then returned to her project, the long hours she routinely invested in her doctoral thesis just one more of the overwhelming challenges that faced a woman trying to make it in a man’s world.

The taxi ride south took thirty minutes, and as they neared the golf course, the streets became cleaner, the cars newer, the buildings more modern. They’d agreed that Spencer would wait for them outside the professor’s house, it being too much of a risk to introduce him.

They’d skipped dinner at the curry place, but Spencer, whose appetite had recovered from the stress of the prior days, had made up for their picking at their order and eaten most of what was brought.

“I wish I had something else to wear. I feel like a bum and smell like a vagrant,” Drake complained from the front seat as they rumbled along the boulevard.

“Glad you’re sitting up there,” Spencer joked from the rear seat. Allie sat on the far side, her bag between them.

“You can’t be much fresher,” Drake quipped.

“That’s not what Sachita said.”

“Sachita?”

“The waitress at the café. She made it clear that she’d be available to show me the sights if I was interested, even though she now thinks I’m a dope fiend.”

Allie laughed. “She seemed like she had one main attraction in mind. You might want to take her up on that.”

“Business before pleasure. But it’s nice to know a girl’s not after your money.”

“Did you get her number?” Allie asked.

“A gentleman never tells.”

“Right. But I was asking you.”

“Hell yeah.”

“Next it’ll be trolling schoolyards,” Drake said.

“She’s twenty-six.”

“You’re practically twins!” Allie exclaimed.

The driver turned off the main street and they found themselves on a quiet lane lined by trees in front of majestic colonial homes.

“Wow. The professor must have stored some nuts for the winter,” Spencer said. “Is this an exclusive area?” he asked the driver.

“Oh, yes. One of the most expensive. Very nice and quite safe. The neighborhoods have private police departments in addition to the city’s force. Many dignitaries and executives live here.”

A few minutes later they pulled to a stop in front of a rambling two-story house the size of a small hotel. Spencer paid the driver and they got out of the car and waited until it had pulled away before approaching the drive.

“Are you going to be all right out here?” Allie asked.

“I won’t freeze, if that’s what you mean,” Spencer replied. “Go have a nice dinner. I’ll hang out with the junkyard dogs and the snakes. Maybe I can make friends with a stray cobra or something.”

“Worked for you at the café – maybe today’s your lucky day,” Drake said.

Allie handed Spencer her bag. “You can use my tablet if you can get a wireless signal.”

He gave her a dark look. “Failing that, I can use it to compose my confession.”

Drake and Allie pushed open the black wrought-iron gate. Halfway down the long walkway they looked back at Spencer, who had melted into the shadows. There was no one else on the street, and their footfalls on the tiled approach were the only sound, the incessant honking of the city replaced by tranquil serenity.

As they neared the house, they could see that it was in a state of disrepair: the paint was peeling in spots, and a drain separated from the gutter along the roofline was jutting off into space. When they stepped onto the porch, the impression was reinforced by the door, which was badly in need of varnish, its ornate handle corroded.

Drake knocked and was surprised when the door creaked open on rusting hinges. Inside the house the lights were blazing, and Allie called out from the entrance, “Professor? We’re here.”

Silence greeted them. Drake frowned at Allie. “That’s weird.”

“He’s probably in the kitchen and can’t hear us.”

“Right. Which is why he left the door open.”

“Professor?” Allie tried again. “It’s Allie and Drake.”

A muffled voice answered from the depths of the house. “Back here.”

Allie led the way, and Drake closed the door behind them. “Professor? Where are you?” she called, and nodded when she heard the clatter of silverware on china. “I told you,” she said to Drake. “He’s probably scrambling to get ready. I feel so bad–”

She froze in her tracks when she entered the formal dining room, the chandelier’s facets glittering overhead like diamonds, and gasped at the sight of the professor seated at the head of a long dining table, a puzzled expression on his face and his eyes wide in surprise.

He pitched face forward onto the table and Allie screamed when she spotted the handle of a butcher knife protruding from between his shoulder blades.

Drake stood motionless, mouth agape, and then a figure stepped from behind the china cabinet, a 9mm semiautomatic pistol trained on them.

“I’m so glad you could make it,” Oliver Helms said. “I’m afraid the professor’s not very receptive to visitors, though.”

“You murdered him,” Allie whispered.

“In the absence of an afterlife, it would appear so…”

“Why?” Drake demanded.

“I’m flattered by your interest in my motives. It’s quite simple, really. I was looking for our mutual acquaintance Mr. Singh – he took possession of an item that was stolen from someone important, and arranged to sell it to a fortune hunter – who, as you know, lost his head in all the excitement. Then you came along, and I guessed you might be colleagues of the unfortunate chap. So I followed you. You led me to the professor, and, well, after you lost me at the fort, I decided to return to the only viable lead I had. He was kind enough to confide in me that you had a dinner date and told me all about the dagger, so there was really no reason to allow him to live.”

“You’re a monster,” Allie blurted.

“Strong words from a member of the weaker sex, but women are inherently more hysterical about things than men.” He smiled again, and the effect was chilling. “I see you have the dagger in your handbag.”

“Who did Singh steal it from?”

“That’s not important. What you should be concerned with is cooperating with me so that you don’t meet the same fate as the professor.”

Drake shook his head. “This is all about some stupid hunk of metal?”

“Stupid to you it may be, but I can assure you it’s of indescribable value to others. Which brings us to the part of the evening where I shoot you in the stomach and let you bleed to death if you don’t hand it over.”

“Do you have any idea who we are?” Allie asked, holding his stare.

“Two candidates for the morgue, if you test me.”

“You really don’t, do you?” she continued. “Didn’t do your research, did you?”

His eyes narrowed and he shifted the gun to cover Drake. “Enough of this insipid intrigue. If you don’t give me the dagger, I’ll shoot your friend here. Stomach wounds are excruciatingly painful, and it can take hours to die. Sometimes days, as the intestinal tract poisons the blood. Makes an awful mess – wouldn’t wish it on anyone.”

“My name’s Allie Brody. This is Drake Ramsey. We’re treasure hunters. Our South American find made us rich – rich enough to pay you triple whatever you’re being paid to do this.”

“Really?” Helms said thoughtfully. “What a delightful offer. I am being paid rather handsomely, though.”

“Bet it’s a joke compared to what we could offer,” Drake said.

“A quarter of a million euro is verging on serious,” Helms said, his mouth a thin line.

“Chump change,” Allie said with a nod. “We’ll up it to an even million.”

“You will? And how do I know you’ll pay me?”

“You can hold us hostage until we do.”

Helms was silent for a long moment. “That’s awfully tempting, but…”

“Make it a million apiece. Two million, paid wherever you want,” Drake said.

“That’s quite an amount. It appears I might have been underestimating the market value of my services.” He paused. “Then again, I’d never live to spend it, so it wouldn’t do me much good.”

“You don’t have to do this. You can take the dagger back. Get paid by whoever it was stolen from for doing so. And get paid a king’s ransom for not killing us. I’ll bet a guy could have a nice life with over two million in the bank here.”

Helms nodded slowly. “An intriguing proposition. Hand over the dagger while I consider it. Two million. Intriguing indeed…”