by K. T. Tomb
“Thanks,” she grinned, putting all of her makeup and essentials into her bag while handing Chyna her own.
“Now, let’s go, darling,” she said, in a fake British accent. “I’m gasping for some supper.”
Chyna laughed as the two paid for their dresses and walked out as if it were just another day under the sun.
***
It was almost 9 p.m. when the two women stepped down from a bus that had left them standing in front of a Carl Jr’s in McAllen, Texas. They were still clad in their touristy attire, but thankfully had not been harassed by anyone on the way.
Chyna looked around and quickly spotted Tony’s Land Rover, which was parked inconspicuously in the shade so as not to raise any suspicions. She saw movement inside the car, and before she knew it, she was running toward it with Sirita right on her heels. She knocked on the window and sighed in relief when she saw Mark Gunnar’s handsome face staring back at her. Tony was in the driver’s seat with his hand reaching surreptitiously for his gun.
“A bright day, isn’t it, love?” Chyna cheered falsely and grinned as Mark and Tony kept on staring at them in confusion. It was only when she took off her accessories of disguise that they recognized her and Sirita and were out of the car in a moment.
“Chyna!” Tony gushed and ran to her side. He scooped her up in his arms and planted a kiss on her lips. “Damn it, I was so worried!”
Chyna let the warmth of Tony’s words wash over her and felt lucky to be able to experience the moment. Tony made her feel safe, and it was a feeling she never wanted to lose. She hugged him back, forgetting everything else for the moment.
“Come on, let’s get out of here,” Tony released her, but still kept an arm around her waist.
“Where are we going?” Mark asked, once all four of them were back inside the car.
Chyna thought for a moment. “We’ll go to New York, set up camp there while we plot out the rest of our trip. I think we should stick to the United States portion of the story for now. I don’t want another run in like the one back there.”
It was then that she spotted Oscar in the back of the van and said a little hello. She laughed when he asked them about the get ups.
“Oh, this was a little quick thinking on Sirita’s part. It’s all her.” Chyna answered, while Sirita just shook her head as she drank from a bottle of water.
“I couldn’t pay attention to the phone because of all the commotion and once we’d dodged them, I tried getting you back on the line, but you weren’t answering at all. That was when Mark and I realized that you must have had to resort to drastic measures,” Tony told them as he drove
Chyna could still hear the anxiety in his voice.
“Well, this is as drastic as it gets,” Sirita agreed. “How did they know where we were, though?”
“I think someone tipped them off.”
There was complete silence in the car as Mark’s words sank in. To think that someone could hate them so much as to hand them over to Diego Motta on a silver platter.
“Who? Our site team?” Oscar sounded a little shaken up and hesitant, as if he couldn’t bear the thought of betrayal within their ranks.
“Not necessarily.” The hesitation in Mark’s voice told Chyna that he was just humoring them. “It could have been anyone. Or, maybe I’m wrong. Maybe they had been following us all along, waiting to catch us in a weak moment.”
Tony hummed his agreement, and Chyna nodded at the last theory, which seemed way more plausible than Mark’s previous one
“Let’s get to New York for now. We’ll think about everything afterwards.”
***
Chyna had just gotten out of the shower when she heard the room door close.
“Chyna?” Tony called out in the next instant, and relief rushed through her.
“I’m just out of the shower, Babe!” she called out and quickly pulled on a pair of shorts and a light tank top. She let her wet hair loose, knowing how much Tony liked it and walked out.
He was sitting on the edge of the bed, clad in his boxers and a white T-shirt. His eyes widened as she strolled in, and he groaned, “Now, how am I supposed to talk work when you look like that?”
Chyna smiled at him and went to sit at the dresser. Her attempts at seducing him were successful, but she shot him down nonetheless. “Whatever you say, Babe. What did you want to talk about?”
There was silence from him as Chyna brushed her hair. Then, he spoke quietly, as if he felt the distinct need to be cautious about something.
“I think it’s Mark.”
She didn’t quite understand his meaning.
“You think that is Mark?”
“The mole; I think it’s him.”
Chyna stopped what she was doing and put the brush down on the dresser. She turned around, crossed her arms and glared at Tony.
“Talk. Now.”
“Isn’t it strange that all this time you’ve been investigating without him, nothing’s ever happened; not one incident. We take him with us to Mexico and there’s a gang of criminals chasing us around the city.” Tony shrugged, “That, and the fact that we don’t know anything about him.”
“That’s because what you’re saying isn’t true, Tony. Have you forgotten about Fariha Katsakis?” Chyna shrugged. “Besides Thyri runs a pretty secure ship. The fact that Mark meets her standards is good enough for me. I have to admit, though, that there really wasn’t much in the personnel file she sent over.”
“And that doesn’t strike you as odd? Come on, he’s working with an international conglomerate like Lothbruk Investments and they don’t tell you anything about him? I’ve seen him, Chyna. He looks odd. He has this... this thing about him.” Tony frowned.
“Tony... I trust Thyri. She would… she would never put someone on my team that she didn’t trust. Remember, she would have kept him herself and attached him to her own team at Alpha. It was Mark who didn’t want to go to the U.S.”
Chyna sat down heavily next to him, as if the weight of Tony’s words was crushing her.
“Facades are not hard to maintain, Chyna. All you need are the right incentives.”
“Tony, I... I don’t know what to say.”
“Just,” Tony was at her feet in an instant, “just promise me you’ll keep my words in mind, and be vigilant around him.”
Chyna looked at Tony for a long time, and what she saw in his eyes pleased and amused her.
“Anthony Stewart, are you jealous?”
She giggled, noticing how very uncharacteristic it was of him. From the look in his eyes, she knew she was right. Yet, he scrambled to maintain himself.
“Jealous? Who, me? No, no, no… not at all.” He cleared his throat, “It's just that you’re so fucking gorgeous. It’s natural that they’ll eventually try something.”
There it was. The jealousy had turned to want in a minute.
“Yeah? What are you going to do to prevent it?” Chyna goaded him, though she very well knew how he would respond. In fact, his hands were already creeping toward the answer.
“Oh, I can do a lot actually.”
He pressed his lips to hers and they fell back onto the bed. Soon they were tangled up in each other’s limbs and Chyna moaned softly in his ear as the pleasure he was giving her mounted and heated her through. His hands ran all over her soft skin fanning the flames of the insistent fire he had ignited between them and when she had clung to him in the final throes of her passion, he had groaned his release into the flushed skin of her shoulder. Then he looked up and kissed her neck.
“I’m not jealous, Babe,” he said, seeking to reassure her again, “but I think I’ll just ensure he knows you’re taken by marking you.”
He pressed his lips to her neck again and mark her he did.
Chapter Two
Two days later…
For the first time in what felt like ages, Chyna woke up in a city she was beginning to feel at home in.
Her work as an archaeologist took her all over
the world, and she was used to waking up in a sterile clean hotel with strange sounds greeting her. But there was something comforting to her about Istanbul. She couldn’t hear the telltale sounds of cars and chatter that seemed to define the city center all the way over from her house, but she felt the shift in the air that affected everyone who resided in the city. Chyna could easily see herself spending many more beautiful years in the city, pursuing the eminent success of the new branch of Found History.
The curling of Tony’s arms around her in bed made her amend that thought. She hadn’t told anyone, but Tony had been in the process of a transfer from his assignment in Izmir to one with the US Consulate in Istanbul so he wouldn’t have to spend any length of time away from Chyna. Although he loved doing what he did, he also thought that fifteen years of passionate intermittent nights here and there could hardly qualify for a steady relationship. Both of them had agreed that they wanted something more reliable, more steadfast. For once, they didn’t want to have their bags packed and ready to go at a moment’s notice. After almost a decade and a half of moving around like vagabonds, Chyna loved the feeling of finally settling down, and Istanbul was the place she wanted to be.
Chyna smiled as the thought hit her. She hadn’t yet started having dreams of a house with the white picket fence and two point five kids—in fact, she didn’t really see kids in her future. She was just looking for a little less adventure and a little more routine. That could be found right there in Turkey and she loved the idea of it.
She untangled herself from the sheets and went into the bathroom to freshen up. She let Tony sleep after the long night they’d had while she showered, brushed her long black hair out and went down to the kitchen. The house was empty, and she figured everyone was still asleep. She called it paranoia, but Chyna could not resist checking whether the alarms were still active. They were. She was glad now that she had gone with getting Sirita the apartment and herself the house. Siri was used to having her solitude and Chyna didn’t mind having the company when the team was in town, which wasn’t that often. Surprisingly, Sirita had opted to crash with the team the previous night; too exhausted from the flight to drive herself home.
Chyna opened the fridge and took out a jug of orange juice, some eggs and a packet of bacon, then prepared the coffee machine and turned it on. She put the bacon on to fry and retrieved her laptop, thinking she could check her email while the bacon did its thing. She let the machine boot up while she made some eggs sunny-side up and put bread into the toaster. While that toasted, Chyna whisked up the rest of the eggs for a scramble for the others and put the bowl into the fridge to keep cool. She was just putting a plate together when Mark entered the kitchen, clad only in shorts and still rubbing his eyes.
“Oh God, breakfast,” he said when he spotted Chyna’s plate and was about to sweep a piece of the bacon up when she swatted his hand away.
Mark looked crestfallen. “Is there extra?”
“Nope, feed yourself.” She grinned and took a bite to emphasize her point. “There are eggs ready to scramble in the fridge and the coffee’s ready.”
She watched amused as he opened the fridge and got busy with the cooking before turning back to her laptop and logging into her email. She sifted through some junk mail and such, until she landed on one that caught her interest.
Chyna remembered the previous mail she had received from Thyri Ragnarsson about the Ivory Bow that had belonged to Queen Christina of Sweden. She had found the case promising, but Montezuma had taken precedence over it, and the Ivory Bow had been swept into the back of her mind in Mexico. Now, the subject of the email made her open it.
Dear Chyna,
I am sorry for getting back so late. I found something about the Ivory Bow that might interest you. I’m sure you might have heard about Karl Wiligut. He was one of those crazy people associated with the Irminists and their theories. He did, however, leave behind some diary entries that talk about the bow. We obtained them through our sources. I have scanned them and attached them to this email. Hope they help.
Please respond to me as soon as possible.
My regards to you and your team.
Thyri
Chyna ransacked her mind and brought up her information on Karl Wiligut. From what Chyna knew, he was famous for his theories about him being the heir to a long line of glorious ancestors who started Irminism. She had just finished downloading the attachments when Tony strolled in, still sleepy-headed and yawning.
A light bulb went off in Chyna’s head as she recalled what Tony had told her about Mark the previous night. Even though Mark was new to the team, Chyna trusted him. He had come to her team with Thyri’s personal recommendation. But who knew? She had been wrong once before with Fariha; she could be wrong now. She hated thinking that her instincts might be failing her, but she had to accept it. She needed to keep an eye on Mark. Chyna was just about to stop and take a tray up for Tony when she saw him enter the kitchen; he came to her and kissed her forehead.
“Good morning, precious,” he said, and then moved to the cupboard for a coffee cup.
When he rejoined her at the kitchen island, she pushed his plate of eggs and bacon toward him.
“Good morning, love,” she replied.
Chyna turned back to Thyri’s email. She opened the attachments and looked at the loopy handwriting on the pages, reading through it while looking for something important. It seemed Karl was a highly delusional man, given his theories about his ancestors and the invasions by the Catholics and Jews. His anger, Chyna felt, was entirely misguided, but then again, Karl Wiligut fit into the overly imaginative category quite easily. The bow itself, however, was an interesting piece. Although Chyna did not believe that it had all the magical powers that Wiligut claimed, she was genuinely intrigued with the whole affair because of the involvement of the Freemasons.
From what she knew, the Masonic society was an incredibly secretive group of people, and inclusions into it were made only on the basis of merit or birth. There had never been any set theories about the Masons, and their entire existence was shrouded in a cloud of mystery. There had also been rumors about numerous American pioneers, politicians and extremely rich businessmen who were supposed to be Freemasons, but nothing had ever been proven. It was all very elite and enigmatic at the same time.
What interested Chyna was their significance in Wiligut’s life. The Masons would not involve themselves with something as trivial as a bow, and definitely not something that would expose the true nature of their organization. For those reasons alone, Chyna knew she had her next assignment. The Ivory Bow had to be special if one of the world’s most secret societies was after it.
“Guys, I think I know what we have to do,” she announced, without even looking up from the computer screen. Oscar and Sirita had joined the group by now, and along with Tony and Mark, they all huddled around Chyna to look at the laptop.
“Interesting,” Oscar said appreciatively. “But what about the treasure?”
“Haven’t you had enough death threats?” Chyna frowned at him and he just shrugged it off. “Okay, now, we need to work fast. Sirita, can you pull up some information about these Schlaraffia? It’s the pseudo-Masonic Lodge where Wiligut began his journey.”
Sirita nodded and opened her laptop while chewing on an apple.
“Oscar, Mark, you might want to pack your bags.”
Chyna spoke and went ahead with making arrangements for their flight. She almost did not want to meet Tony’s eyes.
“What about me?” he asked her curiously, and Chyna thought the sleep had suddenly disappeared from his eyes.
“We’ve got to go, Babe, and I’m going to need to know that I can call on you here if Mira needs a hand with anything in the office.”
Her words came out quietly, but loud enough so he could hear. She felt his hand around her arm, and in the next moment he had pulled her into one of the hallways. He was fuming.
“I’m coming with you,” he whispered urgentl
y, but he could have been shouting for all she knew.
“You can’t. It’s not possible, Tony. I know you don’t have any time off left; how would you explain that to the FBI or to the consulate?” Chyna tried to explain to him, but Tony wasn’t having it.
“Is it because of him? Mark?” Tony urged, “Don’t you believe what I said?”
Chyna resisted the urge to roll her eyes and replied, “Tony, you know I don’t have any feelings for Mark. And besides, I need to think about what you said last night. I think the best way to do it is to put him on a mission.”
“Yes, without me, where you’re unprotected.”
Tony narrowed his eyes.
“Oh, come on, you know as well as I do that I can protect myself.”
Chyna tried to placate him. “Please, Tony. Listen to me. I promise everything will be fine.”
Tony glared at her for a few seconds before huffing, “Fine, but I’m getting on a plane the minute I pick up that anything’s wrong.”
“Okay.”
Chyna got a feeling that she would regret it, but she refrained from saying anything else. When she and Tony got back to the kitchen, Sirita was already packing up her notes and calling the group to attention. Chyna received a look from Oscar and she gave him one back that said he should set a good example for the two newer investigators and mind his own business. The team gathered around the kitchen table to listen to Sirita.
“All right, here is what I know. The Schlaraffia were a pseudo-Masonic lodge where Karl Wiligut was a member for most of his young life. They are a German society and were founded in Prague. There doesn’t seem to be anything shady in their activities. It says here that they are great admirers of art and humor. The members are known as Schlaraffen.
“They do seem to be a bunch of people who seem to be stuck in the past. They meet in the middle of winter once per week in their castle, which is something out of the middle ages and even equipped that way. Each of their gatherings works out in the form of a knight’s play. They respect music and poetry and thus criticize modern day life. They even have their own language and clubs that always stay connected to each other.
