Drowning Pool (Miss Henry Mysteries) (15 page)

He had flinched slightly at these words, so Juliet decided to drive the matter home.

“And, at the risk of being callous, your father will never know it’s gone. Take the limited-time offer. Buy your freedom while you still can. You’ll be able to afford it if you act now.”

The silence that followed was the longest of Juliet’s life. There was plenty of time to wonder if she had blown it
by being too blunt. To wonder if he would flee. To wonder if he would kill her—and Raphael—then try to bluff it out when there were inquiries. If he reached for a weapon she would have to hurt him.

Maybe kill him.

Probably kill him.

Juliet watched his hands and monitored his breathing, waiting for the sudden deep breath he would take before reaching for a gun or knife.

“You sound very sincere,” he said at last.

“You cannot imagine. I would give everything I own to have them out of my life.”

“And just what is this compensation you mentioned?”

“How wou
ld you feel about a cache of Aztecan statuary? In gold. Including one carving of the local version of Smoking Mirror.”

He inhaled
and his pupils expanded enough for her to see it even in the dim light.

“I would feel very interested indeed.
I have been looking for the treasure for … oh, a very long time.”

So he was the digger.

She wondered again if, when Klaus was dead, Henrik would move further south—or west—somewhere more remote where he could enjoy his inheritance with less supervision from criminals and governments alike, and perhaps even reduce his payroll by a dozen guards and footmen.

“Good. I just have one condition
for this exchange. If you need help fetching the roundel you get it from someone other than Calderon. Maybe call in Smythe. I think he is more of an ask questions first and then shoot kind of man.” He had a few extra brain cells than Mr. Nasty and would at least think before acting against her and her old employer, whoever else he might be working for.

“That won’t be necessary,” he said. “I have it here.”

He rolled his chair back and reached under the desk. Juliet tightened her muscles, prepared to react if he brought up a weapon, but all that von Hayek had in his hands when he straightened was a small metal briefcase.

He set the case on the desk, opened it carefully
, and then spun it around so she could see the roundel nestled in the padding. He turned on the desk light and the bouncing rays made the roundel gleam.

“May I?” Juliet said, doing her best to examine the roundel but also keep an eye on von Hayek.
This was not a good moment to lose focus, but it was also a moment that would probably never come again.

“Please. Such things are meant to be admired.” He offered her a pair of
white cotton gloves and she slid them on carefully before reaching for the roundel.

After that
, in spite of her intentions, she lost track of von Hayek until he asked, “Ready to steal it and run off to Brazil?”

She needed the nudge back to reality
, however much she resented it.

“Yes.” Juliet returned the roundel to its case
, hoping she didn’t look as reluctant as she felt. She wasn’t an expert, but it looked genuine to her. Real enough to fool most people, probably including the last owner, should it actually be a fake. She was glad that her hands weren’t shaking as she closed the case. The piece had affected her in a way that was surprising even though she had expected to see precisely what she was seeing. It wasn’t every day that one got to touch a unicorn, and she hoped with all her heart that whoever it was going to would appreciate it for what it was and not just as some investment.

It was also apparent that von Hayek was complete
ly unmoved by Donatello’s masterpiece. Whatever his father’s passion for the Renaissance sculptures, he hadn’t inherited it.

“Not to hurry you at such a moment,” Henrik said with a glance at the clock. “But it is getting on toward morning. I don’t suppose you would care to tell me where the treasure is?”

Juliet debated the wisdom of revealing the trove’s locale before they were boarding the airplane but decided to trust von Hayek.

“You may need a diver
to retrieve it,” she said and then told him about the well inside the poza.

For the first time since she had met him, von Hayek’s face showed some animation and she obliged
him with a colorful description of what she had seen.

It was a pity that he was a villain
, because in that moment Juliet found that she almost liked him.

Juliet got to her room
just before sunrise and laid the metal case on the bed. Though tempted, she did not open it again.

Instead she got out her phone and plugged in the little chip
that was some kind of digital scrambler that gave her highest priority to whatever satellite was available.

Her first call was to David Merton. She took a certain pleasure in waking him, though it made her uneasy that he had arranged to have her call routed directly to him and not to whoever was manning the desk that night
. Directness suited her though since she was so tired. The sooner the roundel was put beyond the reach of the von Hayeks, the safer they all would be.

She also hoped he would be pleased at her efficiency. Pleased enough to leave her the hell alone
for a good long while.

Merton was not nearly surprised enough when she told him that she had the roundel
, and he agreed immediately to have someone at Francisco Sarabia Airport to relieve her of the burden and carry it to wherever it needed to go. He wasn’t specific and she didn’t ask. That he could have someone there so quickly meant that arrangements had already been made. Perhaps he had done it as a sort of Hail Mary, not really expecting that she would actually extract the work of art but being thorough with his planning in case she succeeded. After all, it had been a longshot and he shouldn’t have actually expected results.

Hanging up
without protracted goodbyes, Juliet asked herself if she was uneasy because she was exhausted and worried that von Klaus would change his mind and send Calderon to kill her and take back the roundel. Or if she was just on edge because talking to Merton always affected her that way.

She decided that it didn’t matter and dialed Esteban—after removing the chip since she wasn’t sure if it allowed the NSA to eavesdrop on her with ease.
Making a token protest of their spying made her feel better.

This time she was sincerely sorry to
be waking her friend up before the sun had mounted the sky, but she wanted some backup at the airport in case things fell apart.

“Bella?” he asked, his voice rough with sleep.
“All is well?”

“
Yes, And I’ve got it. Can you meet us at the airport in Coahuila tomorrow at eleven? I would love an extra set of eyes on the exchange.”

“You don’t trust Merton?”

“Not as far as I can throw him—though I am not really expecting any trouble.” He would know that her nerves were on edge. “I am also concerned about seller’s remorse setting in. Not really worried but….”

“Bella, of course not. But I shall be there and when it is done we will all take the same flight out.”

“Good. I am looking forward to it,” she said sincerely. “More than I can say.”

“Ciao, Bella. Until tomorrow.”

The airport was small and it wasn’t hard to find Merton’s man. The hand-off was accomplished without difficulty or interference while their luggage was transferred to the larger plane. None of the art came with them. Von Hayek had bought it all. Juliet hadn’t argued though she did not much like the idea of either von Hayek looking at her painting and being reminded of her existence.

The courier’s
wingman blended in rather better with the general populace than the blond in the light wool gray suit who greeted her near the restrooms. Juliet assumed this contact had been chosen because he would be reassuringly businesslike to someone who was not used to doing fieldwork.

The picture Merton had sent
of her contact also helped. She just hoped that they had a plan for keeping the roundel safe when they left the airport, though she told herself it wasn’t her problem anymore.

Esteban had managed to wrangle a place on the small jet
that would take them to Mexico City. There was some grumbling until the other artists recognized who he was. Guda would have moved in on him but Juliet glared at her with a message of assault if she got too close.

Juliet cat-napped on the flight between Francisco Sarabia Airport and Mexico City. She could finally rest with the roundel
out of her possession and Raphael and Esteban there to watch over her.

She hadn’t said anything to Esteban about her lack of sleep once the roundel had come into her possession. There hadn’t been much
of it even after she had stepped into Raphael’s bedroom and curled up on his bed. Every time she had started to doze off she had dreamed that she was lying atop a sacrificial altar waiting to be killed. But he had seen her exhaustion and encouraged her to rest.

Raphael had not seen the roundel until after dawn
when he had woken and found her beside him. Given his rapt silence as he touched the disk, Juliet inferred that he also felt its vitality and believed it was real. She also knew that he was as uneasy about having it near him as she was. Objects of great value led people to taking great risks to possess them. They would not be safe until it was gone.

Thankfully it was a short flight and everyone went their separate ways in the Mexico City Airport.
Juliet said goodbye to Bertram
Fröndenberger but didn’t bother with any of the others. She hoped passionately that she would never see them again.

“So, Bella,” Esteban said
, taking her arm. “What would you like to do to celebrate the end of your adventure?”

“Yes, we must do something to mark the end of your durance vile,” Raphael agreed with a small smile.

Juliet thought about this. She had a check for five thousand dollars in her fanny pack. The sky was the limit now that she was in funds.

“For starters, do you think there is anywhere that we can get some waffles?”
Juliet asked, looking around the painfully bright and crowded food court. “I would be willing to do any number of illegal or immoral things for a nice, American breakfast.”

Cuatro Cienegas is a real and entirely wonderful place. Quatros Cienegas is not. The characters in this story are all made up out of my head along with the crazy castle and the especially horrible version of the death god, Smoking Mirror that guards the pozas near the castle.

For those who are intrigued by the legend of the vampiric handmaidens that serve the god of the Smoking Mirror
, I recommend Divine Madness
http://www.amazon.com/Divine-Madness-Melanie-Jackson-ebook/dp/B001NIZW8S
which gives a much more detailed look at both the death god and his unfortunate brides.
It is part of the Divine series.

In the meanwhile, feel free to drop me a line. It is lovely to hear from Miss Henry’s friends.

About the Author

Melanie Jackson is the author of over 90 novels and short stories. If you enjoyed this book, please visit Melanie’s author web site at
www.melaniejackson.com
.

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