The Explorer's Code (35 page)

“God, I hate leaving you. Are you sure you’ll be all right?” He had already asked that twice, but he still looked concerned.

“I’ll be
fine,
” she assured him. “Besides, John won’t let me out of his sight.”

He nodded and waved as the car pulled away. Cordelia stood on the front steps of Cliffmere watching the red taillights of the Bentley disappear down the long drive. She watched as the car turned onto the main road. Then it was quiet. She stood outside a few more minutes, in the cool of the night. There was always a twinge of sadness watching Gardiner go.

But this time she walked back into the house with the comfort of knowing that her family was waiting for her. It was the first time she had ever felt that way.

The small Tudor study was aglow with the fire in the grate. Tom and Marian were sitting in the armchairs, while Sinclair paced up and down.

“Well, I don’t see a choice. We
have
to go to Svalbard,” Sinclair was saying.

Cordelia entered and perched on the arm of Marian’s chair.

“If we let the Norwegian authorities dig up the deed, they could try to claim it, or the Russians could steal it from them,” Sinclair said. “We have to be there when they open the coffin.”

Tom spoke up with authority. “I really don’t think it’s a good idea for Cordelia to go.”

“She should stay here with us,” added Marian.

Marian took Cordelia’s hand, an unconscious gesture of protection. Sinclair looked down at them.

“Marian, she can’t stay here,” he said kindly. “Don’t you see that?”

“We wouldn’t let her out of our sight,” assured Marian.

Sinclair took a chair next to them.

“I know you would do your best to protect her,” Sinclair said, “but it’s so dangerous. Someone got into the library just the other day.”

“What about asking for police protection for Cordelia while you go to Svalbard?” suggested Tom.

“No police,” said Cordelia. “I’ll go. It’s
my
land. It’s
my
deed. It’s
my
problem!”

“How can you get there safely? People have been following you all along,” Marian pointed out. “They will come after you and you will be putting yourself in danger, especially in an area as remote as Svalbard.”

“We could go quickly and quietly and nobody would know,” suggested Cordelia. “A two-day trip, just up and back.”

“Hold on, you need to talk to Oakley first,” Tom spoke up. “You need to find out about what kind of contagion risk you are taking by digging up that site.”

“But the coffin is empty! There is no risk,” said Sinclair.

“You should
not
go, Cordelia,” said Marian. “John can go, but you should stay here.”

Marian looked to Sinclair for agreement. Sinclair stood in the middle of the library as they all stared at him.

“I would feel better knowing that she is with me,” he said honestly. “I want to watch out for her myself.”

Cordelia spoke up firmly. “That decides it. I am going with John.”

C
harles Bonnard was waiting in the lobby of Claridge’s when Cordelia and Sinclair came into the hotel.

“Sinclair!” he called when he saw them. “Over here.”

Charles looked as handsome as ever, but there was a pinched anxiety to his face and a nervousness to his movements. He rushed up to Sinclair, clasping him in a quick hug. Sinclair hugged back, slapping Charles’s back affectionately.

“Thank God you are here. I was worried,” Charles said.

Cordelia was quiet, but Charles broke the ice and rushed over to give her a quick squeeze. She hugged him back, a bit awkwardly, and stepped back. He was beaming at her with unrestrained delight. Then he was in motion again, grabbing her bag and rushing over to press the lift button.

“Good to see you, Charles,” said Sinclair.

“How was the country?” He looked them both up and down as they waited for the lift.

“It was absolutely wonderful. I finally went home to Cliffmere,” Cordelia said, and looked over at Sinclair with a smile.

There was no hiding the love that passed between them. Charles looked up at the lift light and pretended to follow the progress of the floors. But when they were alone in the lift, he shifted to a conspiratorial tone.

“What’s up?” he asked Sinclair.

“Let me get Cordelia settled and then we can talk about the foundation.”

“Right,” said Charles. “I’m just down the hall in room five twelve when you are ready.”

“Give me a few minutes,” said Sinclair, as he opened the door to his
and Cordelia’s room. He dropped the suitcases in the middle of the room and turned to her.

“I’m going to talk to Charles for a moment. Do
not
open this door for anyone. If the maid service knocks, just tell them to come back later.”

Cordelia nodded.

“I’ll double-lock the door when you leave,” she said. “And then I’m going to have a nice bubble bath.”

“In that case,” Sinclair said with a smile, “I won’t be gone but a minute.”

Charles was at the window, looking out at the darkening street, when he heard Sinclair knock.

“It’s open,” Charles called.

Sinclair came in quickly and shut the door. There was something furtive about his movements. Charles noticed but said nothing. Sinclair would tell him in his own time.

“You seem well,” Charles lied.

“It’s been a little rough,” admitted Sinclair. He hesitated a moment and then went on. “You know, Charles, first of all, I have to thank you. . . . Cordelia . . . well, she’s wonderful.”

“I am so glad to hear that. When I met her at the gala, she seemed like the kind of girl you would really get along with.”

“Well, your instincts were perfect. Thanks for pushing me to go on that cruise. I was pretty cut up over Shari, and I really wouldn’t have done it.”

“I never push you, I just suggest.” Charles smiled. “So tell me what is going on.”

He walked over to the couch and sat down. Sinclair continued to stand, restless and agitated.

“Let me see . . . well, we decoded the note, and it said, ‘The deed is buried with my partner.’ So we figured it was buried in Sir James’s grave.”

Charles looked at him in astonishment.

“You’re making this up.”

“No, I swear. So we exhumed the grave to see if it was inside.”

“Sinclair, I am starting to worry about you. You can’t go two weeks without digging up dead people.”

“I guess you have a point.” Sinclair forced a laugh.

“So what happened?”

“There was no deed in the coffin with Sir James.”

“So what now?” asked Charles.

“Now we
think
we know where it is. But it’s turning into a scramble. A lot of people are looking for the deed.”

“Like who?”

“At first we thought it was a handful of governments—you know, the Norwegians, the Russians, and now the U.S.”

“The U.S. cares about land in Norway? What for?”

“The International Seed Vault—a repository for all kinds of plant seeds. Each country keeps its own seeds in the vault. It’s sometimes called the Doomsday Vault; if there is a catastrophe, there will be seeds to replant all the different species in the world.”

“Like what kind of catastrophe?”

“Pandemic,” suggested Sinclair. “Or some other situation where there is some kind of world collapse that wipes out populations or agriculture in certain areas.”

“So this thing is built on Cordelia’s land?”

“Yes, and we are now attracting what my spook friend is calling ‘independent actors’—probably the Russian mob.”

“Your
spook
friend? You mean a spy?”

“Thaddeus Frost is . . . well, not really a spy. We checked him out—or Cordelia’s lawyer did. He’s some kind of undercover operator for the American government. I called him after they tried to kidnap Cordelia.”

“Kidnap Cordelia!”
Charles leaned forward in surprise.

“Yes—last week in London. Which is why I called you.”

Charles sat staring at him. “I feel like a fool for asking, but what can I possibly do?”

“I need you to help me persuade Cordelia to lie low and disappear for a week or so while I go to Norway to get this deed. We think the deed is buried at another grave site.”

“You going to dig
that
up too?”

“I might have to. But Cordelia can’t go; it’s too dangerous. She needs to stay with you.”

“
Of course
she can’t go. Are you
insane
? After someone tried to kidnap her?” said Charles heatedly.

“That is what I am saying. But I am terrified to leave her alone.”

“Shouldn’t she stay at Cliffmere?”

“No, it’s not safe. Someone already broke in there. And her lawyer, Jim
Gardiner, normally would take care of her, but he is going to have to go up to Norway with the paperwork to claim the deed.”

“So you want me to stay with her,” Charles concluded.

“Yes. If you would.”

“All right, I can do that,” said Charles. “Where should we stay? Here? Her town house?”

“No. You have to be completely out of sight. Where nobody can find her. I would say that you should stay at my place in Ephesus, but even that isn’t safe. They caught a Russian mobster staking it out.”

Charles got up and started pacing.

“John, this is really serious. You are way out of your league. No offense, but these people are professionals.”

Sinclair stood in front of Charles.

“Let me put it this way: I need you to do this. I just don’t trust anyone but you.”

“What about the police?” asked Charles.

“If I had trusted law enforcement last week in London, she’d be gone right now.” Sinclair looked distraught.

“Look, I am happy to help. But where do we hide her?”

“What about your place in Capri?” suggested Sinclair.

“The Villa San Angelo?” Charles considered for a moment. “It seems good. It’s remote, that’s for sure, but the local people always talk. If I show up with Cordelia, it won’t be much of a secret for long.”

“Right,” said Sinclair. “I hadn’t thought of that. Especially with Brindy just down the road from you. It would be all over town by lunchtime.”

“Isn’t that the truth,” admitted Charles.

“Well, how about you two stay with your mother in Paris? Nobody would look for her there.”

Charles considered that for a moment, sitting down again.

“That is a great idea!”

“Your mother wouldn’t mind? It could be dangerous.”

“Are you kidding, she would
love
it. What drama—a beautiful young American on the run.”

“She would have to keep quiet,” Sinclair cautioned.

“Oh, no problem. We’ll tell her it’s top secret, all very hush-hush,” assured Charles.

“Great,” said Sinclair. “Great! It will take some convincing to get Cordelia to agree. We can work on that later.”

“So what’s the plan?” asked Charles.

“I’ve been thinking,” Sinclair said. “You could take the train from London to Paris.”

“That’s easy enough,” agreed Charles. “But won’t she be recognized if they are hanging around looking for her?”

“We would put her in disguise—change her hair, that kind of thing. It would be a bait and switch. The two of you would leave together, just like a normal couple staying at the hotel.”

“If you say so,” said Charles.

“After you leave, I’ll head up to Norway. They will follow me instead of Cordelia.”

“That should work. When will we tell her?”

“Tonight we have to meet Paul Oakley, a virologist at the Royal London Hospital. Let’s go out to dinner afterward and suggest it to her. I definitely need backup. Cordelia can be very stubborn.”

“Then you are well matched,” shot back Charles. “So when do Cordelia and I head to Paris?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

“OK, I will call my mother, and then I’ll hop out to Selfridges to pick up some kind of disguise. It’s just down the block.”

“Nothing too flashy, Charles. She has to look different, but also blend in.”

“Don’t worry. I have some ideas.”

“I hope Cordelia goes along with this scheme. She really can’t come with me to Norway.”

“There’s only one problem,” said Charles.

“What?” Sinclair looked concerned.

“If I show up at my mother’s apartment with that girl, my mother will have us married within a week.”

“Then your mother is considerably more dangerous than I thought,” Sinclair said, laughing.

Thaddeus Frost made a face with the first sip of canteen coffee at the Royal London Hospital.

“I know, it is god-awful,” Paul Oakley apologized.

“I usually don’t drink commercial coffee. I prefer to drink my
own
brew.
Kopi luwak
beans from Indonesia.”

“What’s that?”

“If you haven’t tried it, you really should.
Kopi luwak
beans are the rarest coffee beans in the world. They run a couple hundred dollars a pound,
if
you can find them.”

“What on earth can they do to coffee beans to make them
that
expensive,” Oakley demanded.

“They are hand collected in the wild. They are beans that have been eaten by an Asian palm civet.”

“I don’t understand. If the Asian palm civet
eats
the beans, how do you make coffee from them?”

“The beans pass through its system undigested and are collected in the forest after the animal eliminates them.”

“That is disgusting!”
Oakley looked at Thaddeus Frost in disbelief.

“Not at all. They are purified and roasted. The fragrance is unbelievable. You can get them commercially only in London and New York. But I buy mine from a private vendor in Asia.”

“My God!” Oakley broke in. “You don’t want to be drinking
that
kind of coffee. You
must
know that SARS was connected to the masked palm civet.”

Thaddeus Frost cut him off. “We’ll talk about it later. Here they are.”

Sinclair walked in, his raincoat drenched. Cordelia’s hair was wet from the downpour outside. Sinclair put his sodden umbrella on the floor and pulled back two chairs. The overhead fluorescent light was unflattering; Sinclair looked tired, and Cordelia was sallow from stress.