Golden Relic (32 page)

"I have also got the Boss's okay and have organised the surveillance team, led by me of course,
to be at your disposal for this welcoming bash at the Exhibition Building tomorrow night. The guys,
except for Sandra who's got herself a nice frock, have all hired tuxedos so they can blend in."

"You're my hero, Ben," Sam said emerging from the lift.

"Yeah, well that's all the good news. The bad news is that the Boss expects to be fully briefed
by you tomorrow and he wants to meet your friends Maggie and Pavel so he knows what to expect."

"Oh, joy," Sam moaned. "I'll call him in the morning. He's obviously working Saturday as
usual."

"What else would he do with his day off?" Ben laughed.

Maggie opened the door to her suite just as Sam was about to knock, and ushered her
out into the hall. "I hate being late for parties," she said. "I spoke to Anna Gould by the
way."

"Good. Did you find out why her husband hated the Professor enough to confess to a murder he
didn't commit?" Sam asked.

"Anna was beside herself," Maggie said. "She swears if Haddon is not found guilty and hanged,
she'll kill him herself."

"Does she believe he did it?"

"No, not at all," Maggie laughed, as they entered the lift. "But she does think he's completely
lost his mind and she's very annoyed with him. She adores Haddon, god only knows why; he's
possessive, jealous, irrational and childish. According to Anna, the rivalry between him and Lloyd
began in 1977 when Haddon spent most of the year away on field trips. Lloyd used to socialise with
both of them and continued to do so with Anna while Lloyd was away. They were just friends who went
out to dinner, or to the theatre or art gallery but Haddon decided they were having an affair and
that Lloyd was trying to take Anna away from him. That's how it started, but at the same time it
seemed to Haddon that he was always losing out to Lloyd at work as well, which wasn't true
either."

"So Marsden and Mrs Gould were not having an affair," Sam said.

"No, in fact Lloyd wasn't…" Maggie hesitated as the lift came to a stop and the doors
opened.

"Maggie!" exclaimed a short, broad-chested American man who launched himself into the lift.

"Eugene, how are you?" Maggie asked, through a clenched smile.

"Terrific as always. Have you heard the news?"

"What news, Eugene?"

"About the discovery of an Inca city bigger than Machu Picchu."

"No, I haven't," Maggie said, feigning interest. "Where did you hear this?"

"It's been all over the internet apparently. Someone told Bob Esterhauser who told me all about
it on the flight from New Zealand this morning."

"Who discovered it?"

"Bob wasn't sure, but he heard from someone else that a very wealthy retired German professor
named Schreiber has been funding a team of amateurs in the jungle south-west of Machu Picchu."

"South-west?" Maggie repeated.

The lift stopped again and a well-dressed English couple joined them and the conversation.

"What do you think of the rumours about Vilcabamba, Maggie?" the man asked.

"I've just heard, Hugh. But this German can't be claiming he's found Vilcabamba. It's not
lost."

"He's saying he's found the real Vilcabamba," Hugh stated. "But I heard he was American. Isn't
that right, Sophie?"

"No Hugh, you've mixed your stories up again," Sophie said patiently. "And you wonder how that
rumour started about you trying to sell a collection of skulls you never had."

The lift stopped again but a family surrounded by luggage decided to wait for an empty lift.

"So what are the real stories, Sophie?" Maggie resisted the urge to glance at Sam who remained
unnoticed in the corner.

"A rich English industrialist and amateur archaeologist named Henry Steedman organised an
expedition, comprised of American students, to explore the area west of Machu Picchu. He found a
small but significant ceremonial centre and some quite astounding artefacts."

"That's…a lot of detail," Maggie said, stifling a laugh. "Where did you hear all
that?"

"Jennifer Pertwee's brother has just come back from Peru. He actually met this Steedman fellow
but was sworn to secrecy until the find is officially announced. Now I heard that Steedman might be
coming here to the Conference to do just that. But that is a rumour."

"But everything else is fact?" Maggie asked.

"Oh yes, I have it on the best authority," Sophie pronounced.

Sam wondered whether the rumour of Hugh and his skull collection had been started by Sophie.

"No," Eugene disagreed. "The guy's a German named Schreiber, and he found a big city south-west
of Machu Picchu. That's what Esterhauser told me, and he got it straight off the internet."

Sam rolled her eyes in astonishment. The two 'someones' who, not two minutes before, had been the
source of Esterhauser's information were now forgotten links in this incredible chain of
bullshit.

"You must have him mixed up with the American that Hugh mentioned," Sophie stated, obviously
delighted that she could sort out this mess for everyone. "His name is Harry Steinberg and he found
a priceless Inca statue in the basement of a house in Spain."

"In Spain?" Maggie laughed, as the doors opened on the third floor.

"No," Eugene argued, "You've got him confused with the guy who found the Aztec statue. He is at
the conference, I've met him already. Aren't you coming to Marcus's party, Maggie?"

"Yes," Maggie nodded. "I have to go downstairs for a minute."

A second after the doors had closed, leaving them alone, Sam and Maggie burst into laughter.

"Good grief!" Sam exclaimed.

"Now you see how Pavel was killed in the jungle by a poison arrow when in fact he'd caught
glandular fever in New Orleans," Maggie said.

"We needn't have bothered with the internet," Sam grinned. "We could have told Sophie the truth,
that Pavel Mercier was alive, had discovered Inticancha and was in Melbourne with the Hand of God
and I'm sure her 'best authority' would still have devised Harry Steinberg, Henry Steedman and a
fictitious basement in Spain."

"Not to mention Eugene's imaginary encounter with the non-existent finder of an Aztec statue,"
Maggie said. They had reached the foyer, so she stabbed the button for the third floor. "Shall we
join the party now to see if anyone has actually heard that a Henri Schliemann has discovered Manco
Capac's secret city and a legendary golden artefact?"

Sam was pleased to find that she had almost recovered from the Marcus Bridger virus and was
barely affected by the sight of him holding court on the far side of the crowded function room. The
fact that he looked at her most curiously when she smiled at him, as if he didn't recognise her, did
nothing at all for her ego. His vague smile had suggested he knew he should know who she was, but
couldn't place her in this context.

About 50 people were making the most of the open bar, courtesy of the Rites of Life and Death
and, judging by the conversations that Sam could actually understand, a great many of them were
talking about an amazing archaeological find in Peru. Or Mexico or Chile or Spain. One man, who kept
switching rapidly between French, English and Russian, was trying to convince his little circle of
listeners that a treasure-filled Mayan funerary temple had been discovered on the Yucatan
Peninsula.

"I wish you-know-who was here to enjoy all this gossip," Maggie said. "There's Andrew, let's go
interrogate the life out of him."

"We need to be a bit more subtle than that," Sam insisted, keeping pace with Maggie as she
manoeuvred through the guests towards Barstoc who was standing alone near the bar.

"Don't worry Sam, I'll leave it all up to you. In this you are the expert."

"Good evening, Mr Barstoc," Sam said pleasantly, before asking the bartender for two beers.

"Detective Diamond, Dr Tremaine." Barstoc seemed oddly taken aback. "How was Egypt?"

"So-so," Maggie shrugged.

"Could I ask you a couple of questions, Mr Barstoc?" Sam asked. "Regarding my investigation."

Barstoc straightened his shoulders. "Now is hardly the time. This is a social occasion,
Detective."

"Yes of course, I'm sorry. I just thought it would easier to chat here, rather than ask you down
to the station tomorrow," Sam said, starting to turn away.

"In that case," Barstoc said hurriedly, "I'd be happy to talk to you. It will save us both
time."

"Thanks. Firstly, could you refresh my memory about the exact nature of your other business
interests."

"I run an import-export business. I deal mostly in rare precious stones," Barstoc said, as if he
was talking to a forgetful child. "But what does this have to do with your case?"

"Maybe nothing, Mr Barstoc," Sam said. "You said mostly, what other things do you collect?"

"Anything that my clients, and I have many all over the world, express an interest in."

"Ah, that would explain why you met with the antique dealers in Sydney."

"I beg your pardon?" Barstoc barely managed to stay on the outraged side of angry. "Have you been
following me?" he demanded.

"Me? No. I've been in Egypt," Sam smiled. "But you did leave town in the middle of a murder
investigation, so my colleagues felt they had to, at least, find out where you went. Were you after
anything in particular from these business acquaintances in Sydney?"

"Not that it is any of your business, Detective Diamond, but yes I was trying to track down an
antique necklace for a client in London."

"Okay, fine," Sam shrugged. "That's all I needed."

Barstoc frowned but visibly relaxed and took a sip of his drink. "That was painless," he
joked.

Sam smiled. "Oh, by the way, I believe we have something in common. I hear you're a bit of a
crime fiction buff. You're even trying your hand at writing a mystery, I gather. How's it
going?"

"What?" Barstoc snapped, exhibiting one of the telltale signs of the flight or fight response by
squirming as if his clothes were suddenly very uncomfortable. "I don't know what…"

"Oh Andy," Maggie chimed in, "there's no need to be shy. Every writer has to start
somewhere."

"I didn't mean to embarrass you, Mr Barstoc," Sam said, trying to look genuinely sorry. "It's
just that we met an old friend of Maggie's in Cairo who said he met you briefly when you sought out
his friend Noel Winslow to get some advice. 'Andy Baxter', is that your pen name?"

Barstoc was speechless although his mouth looked like it was trying to help him form an
appropriate response. "How did you…"

"Put it together?" Sam asked. "I happened to have a copy of your Exhibition catalogue with
me."

Barstoc raised his eyebrows. "Why?"

"Oh god, don't ask," Maggie butted in, with a laugh. "This was Sam's first overseas trip and
you've no idea the junk she took with her. She purposefully took her car and office keys, would you
believe, but we're still trying to work out how or why she packed a guide book to Japan."

"Maggie," Sam moaned, "do you have to tell everyone about the keys."

Barstoc smiled and ran his hand through his hair. "I can see I'd better come clean," he said. "I
am not a writer. I am a freelance investigator, of sorts. I contacted Noel Winslow because I had
been led to believe he knew the whereabouts of this antique necklace I am still seeking."

"An investigator?" Sam asked. "For whom?"

"As I said, for my clients. I sometimes use my own, quite legitimate business as a cover to try
and reclaim stolen jewellery. The necklace I'm looking for was taken from a house in London a year
ago. It's priceless, but only if it's intact. It can't be broken down and sold for parts, so to
speak. A few dealers, not all legitimate, told me that Noel might know who was interested in buying
it. I told him the truth about myself, when I realised his interest in jewellery of this kind was
academic. He'd made the acquaintance of antique dealers all over the world while doing research for
two of his books. Do you know Noel or just his friend…um," Barstoc snapped his fingers to
help his memory, "Patrick?"

"I knew Noel very well, Andrew," Maggie admitted. "Do you know that he died the day you last saw
him? He had a stroke."

Barstoc pressed his fingers to his lips. "Oh how terrible. He was a such a generous man."

"What do you do when you find these stolen goods?" Sam asked, wondering whether Barstoc and
Vasquez had attended the same school of humbug.

"Um, it depends who has the item and who my client is. Sometimes I offer to buy it back, on other
occasions I call in the local police. Detective Diamond, I do this work through word of mouth, and
no one on the team knows about it. I would appreciate it you could keep it to yourself."

"Of course, Mr Barstoc. And I appreciate your candour."

Sam and Maggie watched Barstoc slither away into the crowd before turning to each other.

"Sounds plausible," Maggie noted.

"Explains absolutely everything quite nicely," Sam agreed.

"I think Andy and Enrico went to the Fairytale Academy together," Maggie observed.

"Yes, I think you could be right. And I'll be taking bets later that Haddon Gould will claim it
was stress from his alien abduction that forced him to commit murder."

"Sam! You're back from Egypt."

"Yes, we are. Hi, Adrienne."

Maggie held up a finger. "Would you two excuse me, I've just spotted someone I need to
berate."

"Speaking of berating," Sam said to Adrienne, "Daley Prescott had just spotted me, would you mind
if we took a little stroll around the room?"

"Of course not," Adrienne laughed.

"So, how's the show going?" Sam asked, when they had relocated themselves out of Prescott's line
of sight, and behind Marcus Bridger and a silver-haired man with a very proper British accent.

"Splendid," Adrienne replied, "considering Enrico had to dash home because is mother took a bad
turn. But the grand opening was a great success and we've had big crowds every day."