Magic Lantern (Rogue Angel) (23 page)

“The bunco squad pulled her in. She was convicted of numerous cons. She even served jail time. No more than a few months at a stretch.”

“Where’s the mother now?”

“Dead, I’m afraid. Nine years ago from cancer.”

“Was Jean-Baptiste Laframboise ever indicted in his mother’s crimes?”

“No, but by then he was well on his way down the criminal career path. Robbery. Burglary.”

“He had no ties to the metaphysical?”

“None that I’ve found.”

Fiona leaned back in her chair and folded her arms. “Laframboise didn’t find Dutilleaux’s lantern on his own. He wouldn’t have had an interest in something like that.”

Annja picked up on the other woman’s line of thinking. “I think we’re safe in assuming Puyi-Jin brought the lantern to Laframboise’s attention.”

Edmund nodded and his eyes looked distant. “That’s what Laframboise said. That Puyi-Jin had told him about the lantern. Had, in fact, hired Laframboise to get the lantern from me.”

“Maybe Laframboise picked up on the lantern because of the supernatural story connected to it.”

Fiona nodded. “Laframboise would have had to have a personal reason for betraying an employer—especially a
dangerous
employer—if there wasn’t an immediate payoff of some kind. And I think we’re all in agreement that we don’t see one. The lantern, unless it is worth more somehow than its presence would suggest, is worthless for the simple materials involved in its construction. There has to be something more.”

Stunned, Edmund looked at both women. “Are you saying you believe there’s something magical about that lantern?”

Fiona smiled. “Do you mean, do I believe in magic, Professor Beswick?”

Edmund looked uncomfortable as he nodded.

“Of course I believe in magic.” Fiona glanced at Annja. “I’ve seen it.”

Annja felt the sword blaze hot for just a moment.

“But why should we go to such extreme lengths to get this lantern back?” Edmund shook his head. “People have died in pursuit of this lantern. You’ve already—” He stopped himself short.

Fiona tapped her glass with an elegant forefinger. “I’ve already killed people. Is that what you were going to say?”

Edmund squirmed in embarrassment. “I had no right to say anything about that.”

“There is a distinction in how Laframboise and his Chinese counterpart are going about their business,” Fiona said, her voice cool and soft.

If Fiona hadn’t liked Edmund, Annja was sure she wouldn’t be controlling herself so well. Roux and Garin tended toward a more simplistic view of life, of predator and prey, of kill or be killed. Annja had seen a lot of that life herself, but she hadn’t quite bought into it. Killing, though sometimes necessary, was still something to be avoided.

When possible.

“Those men are killing to obtain the lantern, and to obtain
you.
I killed to save you.”

“I know. And I’m grateful. Truly I am.” Edmund knotted a fist uncertainly. “But at this point, I’m safe. We could step away from this thing.”

Annja felt a sick twist in her stomach that told her she wasn’t ready to let go of the hunt.

Fiona smiled. “Hasn’t all of this made you curious, Professor?” She held up her forefinger and thumb a fraction of an inch apart. “Just a little?”

Edmund hesitated, then nodded. “Of course. I don’t believe any of the stories that I’ve heard circulating about that lantern—”

“But you know there must be something there. Otherwise, Laframboise and his ex-employer wouldn’t be working so hard to get it.”

“They could be wrong.”

Fiona shrugged, then glanced at Annja. “Maybe they are. But I feel certain Annja will attempt to find the lantern. Or am I wrong?”

“No.” Annja shook her head. “You’re not wrong.”

Fiona shifted her gaze back to Edmund. “Furthermore, even should you decide to stay out of this, there is every possibility Laframboise or someone else looking for the lantern will think you know more than you’re telling.”

Edmund paled a little, and Annja didn’t blame him. She’d thought the very same thing, but she hadn’t wanted to mention it. Of course, not mentioning it would have been irresponsible.

Fiona continued in a deadpan voice. “Personally, I believe it would be better if we had the matter settled. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“There’s no guarantee you’ll do anything except get yourself killed. And Annja.”

Fiona pursed her lips. “We’re going, Professor. All I need to know is whether I should make reservations for you, as well.”

Edmund vacillated for only a moment. Then he took a deep breath and nodded. “But I want to stop short of getting killed for my curiosity.”

“We’re going to work on that.”

* * *

DESPITE THE SPACIOUS TRUNK of the limousine parked in front of Fiona’s building, Annja kept her backpack with her. Ollie stood by with his computer tablet and chatted on his Bluetooth headset while overseeing the loading of Fiona’s bags by the chauffeur. A bodyguard in a black suit and wraparound sunglasses stood watch nearby.

With her backpack slung over one shoulder, Annja joined Fiona. The woman looked elegant in casual wear and sunglasses.

“I suppose you noticed the car across the street?” Annja shifted the backpack to a more comfortable spot.

Fiona pulled on a leather glove. “I did indeed.”

“Are they police?”

“Yes. Some of Inspector Westcox’s men. Ollie has already verified their identities.”

A small knot unraveled in Annja’s stomach. She hadn’t noticed the car until only a few moments ago.

Ollie smiled. “I was of a mind to have them move by filing a harassment action with our solicitors, but Ms. Pioche told me not to.”

“There’s no reason.” Fiona tugged her second glove on. “We’ve already tweaked the inspector’s nose enough. Besides, those men will only follow us as far as the airport. There’s really not much for them to see.”

That was true and Annja tried to take solace in it. Being followed made her feel vulnerable.

“Did you find out anything about the Chinese gang that’s involved with the lantern?”

“You mean Puyi-Jin?” Ollie reached into his pocket and pulled out a small thumb drive. “You can review the files at your leisure.”

Fiona took it from him. “Good work.”

Ollie’s ebullient nature gave way to worry for just a moment as he gazed at his employer. “The gang members we’ve identified have led us to one man—Puyi-Jin. This man, Ms. Pioche, is much worse than anything we’ve seen from Laframboise. He has a rather long reach. I’m surprised he needed Laframboise.” Ollie grimaced and nodded at the thumb drive. “You might want to skip over some of the police files. They’re in color and they’re very gruesome. Puyi-Jin is
not
a nice man.”

Fiona patted Ollie’s cheek. “I am not a nice woman when properly motivated.”

“I do know that, Ms. Pioche.”

“Do we have someone in Paris who can outfit us?”

“Yes. Georges will meet you at the airport with a car. He promised me that you would have everything you needed.”

“Thank you, Ollie.”

“My pleasure, Ms. Pioche.” Ollie grabbed the limousine door before the chauffeur could. “As always.”

23

Even though Fiona had her own personal jet, there was still a fair amount of red tape to go through to get airborne. Despite that, less than an hour later, they were wheels up in the small Embraer Phenom 100 microjet.

Annja had never flown in a jet so small. The four main seats sat in two-by-two formation and faced one another. Toward the rear of the jet, there were two more seats and a small toilet.

After stowing her gear, Annja strapped herself in. Edmund sat across from her. He looked tired and rumpled. The bruises on his face were even darker. He kept fidgeting after he’d strapped himself in, unable to relax.

Fiona handed him a glass of soda water and a pill. “Take this. It’s an analgesic. It should help with the pain.”

Obediently, Edmund tossed the pill back and drained the glass.

Annja pulled her computer out, then attached it to the outlet in the wall. In addition to the power, the jet also maintained a satellite connection.

She checked the alt.history sites again, looking for updates. Not finding any, she moved on to emails. There were three invitations from universities to speak, galleys for two articles she’d written for magazines and queries from her editor concerning her latest book. Business as usual.

Beside her, Fiona spoke quickly on her cell. Judging from the snippets of conversation Annja was privy to, Fiona kept her hand in several investigations at one time. After a few moments, she finished the calls and tucked the phone back into her jacket pocket.

Annja glanced at her. “You stay busy.”

“I try.” Fiona was contemplative for a moment. “After the time I spent with Roux, a mundane existence seems impossible. I kept telling myself I’d probably slow down at some point.”

“But you haven’t?”

“No. Roux used to always say there would be time enough to rest when you were in the grave.”

“This from a man who seems determined to avoid that particular destination.” Annja glanced over at Edmund, but amazingly, the pill seemed to have knocked him out in record time.

Fiona laughed. “True.” Her expression sobered. “Despite all his years, Roux is vulnerable. He can be killed.”

A chill crept over Annja as she recalled how Roux had looked in the hospital bed in China.

“Yet even facing death, he can be fearless. Not truly heroic, though, because he faces death for his own reasons, not necessarily for the greater good.”

“I’ve also seen him be cautious.”

Fiona regarded her. “What kind of relationship do you have with Roux?”

Annja thought for a moment, then answered, “Complicated?”

“I can believe that.” Fiona took a breath as the jet taxied down the runway.

She stared out the window, but Annja knew that the woman didn’t see a thing. “For a few days I was afraid the mysterious Garin person had finally succeeded in killing him. I kept watch over the newspapers and news channels. There was nothing.”

“Until he called about me.”

Fiona looked back at Annja. “Yes.” Tears brimmed in her eyes, but she blinked them back. “Surely between us we can find another topic. After all, we’re potentially flying into the jaws of death.”

The jet had reached cruising altitude after a steep climb and settled into a level course. Edmund was snoring softly in his seat. She looked at Fiona. “That wasn’t an analgesic, was it?”

Fiona settled back in her seat. “Tell me about that sword.”

* * *

AN HOUR LATER, ANNJA STOOD in line waiting for the French customs agent to clear her through Orly Airport. Air traffic was lighter at Orly than Charles de Gaulle. But the customs agents were no less demanding. She’d been separated from the other two by a few people and the conversations going on around her were in a half-dozen languages. Behind her, two women with Texas accents were talking loudly.

Annja took out her cell and punched in Roux’s number.

The phone rang three times and she was sure it was about to go to voice mail. She didn’t know if she hoped it would or if she wanted Roux to pick up. She liked Fiona a lot and hearing what her sometime-mentor had done to the woman was exasperating. Roux’s behavior wasn’t without precedent, though. Annja knew that neither Roux nor Garin invested too heavily in the feelings of others. They put their own welfare first.

“Must you keep interrupting me? I was playing cards.”

“If you were at the table right now, you wouldn’t have answered.” Roux cared about her, though, or he wouldn’t have taken her call.

Roux harrumphed. “For all you know, I just threw in a winning hand to answer this infernal device.”

“Did you?”

“No, but that could have happened. Don’t tell me you called just to ask what I was doing.”

“I called to tell you you were an asshat,” she snapped.

Roux didn’t reply right away. “I don’t think I’m familiar with the term.”

“It means you wear your ass for a hat.”

Roux was silent for another moment. “I suppose that isn’t a sartorial comment.”

“No.” Annja moved forward, now only a dozen people from the customs agent. “It means you have your head up your ass.”

“Since we haven’t been in contact for hours, I assume you’re basing this conclusion on something other than what I might have done.”