by David Wood
“You’re sure of this?” Noticing Salvatore’s distraction, Kennedy had taken over the questioning. “He’s not hiding anything?”
“He is a worm.” Alex’s twisted frown suggested a hint of something foul in the air. “He broke under questioning in less than ten minutes. I worked on him several other times just to be certain. He knows nothing else.” Alex actually smiled, something he seemed to do only when he was inflicting pain on someone, or thinking about doing so. How was it possible he was Salvatore’s progeny?
“Very well.” Salvatore resumed control of the conversation. “What about the girlfriend?”
“We are still working on that as well, sir.” Kennedy consulted his notes. “Our contact with the Charleston Police Department tells us she left the hotel they put her up in, and now she’s disappeared.”
“She is completely off the grid?” David Romani was ScanoGen’s Chief Operations Officer, and Salvatore’s best friend since college. “You can find no trace of her anywhere?”
“Our contact confirms that she hasn’t used her credit card at all in the past two days, and hasn’t drawn out any cash since shortly after she disappeared.” Kennedy consulted his notes once again. “She made two calls to a cell phone number in southern Florida. That’s all.”
“Our guest insists that the girl knows nothing. She was shocked to learn her boyfriend,” Alex sneered as he spoke the word, “had hidden so much from her. She was quite heartbroken over it. Such a tragedy.” He breathed on his fingernails and polished them on his shirt. “I don’t think she is of much concern to us. As soon as Thornton’s friend gave her the picture, she headed straight to the police station and handed it over to them.”
Salvatore turned his attention to Mitchell Vincent, an agent who was reasonably bright, but severely lacking in the backbone department. “Returning to the topic of Doctor Thornton. I assume your inquiries in the Amazon region have not uncovered any helpful information?”
Vincent shook his head.
“I am sorry Mister Vincent, I did not hear you.”
“No, sir.” Mitchell’s face reddened. “We located the town where he and his students began their expedition, but we don’t know where they went from there. No one admits to having seen them.”
Salvatore rose to his feet and looked down the table. “We invested a great deal of time and money on the Pan project. Doctor Thornton has clearly betrayed us. If we cannot locate him and force him to deliver on his promises, the project is dead in the water, and ScanoGen is in serious trouble.” He paused to let that sink in.
“Mister Vincent, you will continue the search for Thornton.” He next turned to his Chief Research Officer, Julius, who had remained silent thus far. “Mister Julius, I want you to take all the information we have on Thornton’s work and have our people conduct their own research. Perhaps we can discover his secrets independently.” Julius nodded, but the look on his face mirrored Salvatore’s thoughts. It was unlikely they could replicate Thornton’s work—they knew too little of what he had discovered, and much of his information was comprised of nuggets sifted from heaps of myth and legend. “David, Kennedy, you two stay with me. The rest of you are dismissed.”
Everyone except Alex hurried out of the conference room.
Salvatore fixed him with a blank expression. “Do you require something of me, Alex?”
“No, sir.” Alex scowled and flashed resentful looks at Kennedy and David. He was ever envious of their place in his inner circle, but he did not understand that their places had been earned. Alex, however, was content to rely on his family name, indulging his sadistic urges as needed while he waited for the day he would take over ScanoGen. A day that likely would never come. “I mean, what do you want me to do with Thornton’s friend?”
“I shall think on it and let you know. You may go now.”
Salvatore turned his back on his son and moved to the window overlooking President’s Park. Reston, Virginia wasn’t the most picturesque place in the world, but the view from Salvatore’s office always calmed his nerves.
He waited for the sound of the closing door before he turned back to face the two who waited at the table, still in their seats. He first addressed himself to Kennedy.
“Tell me how you intend to proceed, considering what we have to work with.”
“Obviously, we are researching Percy Fawcett and any connection he might have to the items in the painting. We think the book is important. I’ve got men on their way to England as we speak, with orders to search any places connected with Fawcett, and try to find and obtain anything pictured in this painting. Until we can figure out what exactly this painting is telling us, the least we can do is make sure that if any of the items pictured in it are important, no one else can get their hands on them.”
“That is a good start. Anything else?”
“Not at this time, Sir.”
Salvatore dismissed Kennedy with a flick of one finger, sank into his chair, and closed his eyes. Only in front of David did he ever let his guard down. “Can you believe that dirtbag Thornton screwed us over like this, David?”
“Relax, Sal, we’ll get him.” Now that Salvatore’s wife had passed, David was the only person in the world who dared call him by his nickname. “Odds are, the guy’s dead anyway. What was he thinking, going into the Amazon with nothing but some college kids?”
“That doesn’t make me feel any better, David. If we don’t find Thornton, we might not be able to complete Pan, and then what?”
“The company will get through it like we always do. So we piss off some defense contractors, and we lose a little money…”
“It’s my money!” Salvatore slammed his fist down on the conference table, rattling his empty espresso cup and the phone that sat to his left. And there’s more money at stake than anyone knows, he thought. “Never mind that. We have another problem. I received a call today from a Reverend Felts.”
David sat up ramrod straight and frowned. “That idiot with the cable show? The one who blames everything from hurricanes to hangnails on our ‘sinful, humanist government?’”
“One and the same. He wants to meet with me this afternoon.”
“Pardon the expression, but what the hell for? Is he on another of his anti-cloning crusades, and accusing us of…” David froze in the midst of running his fingers through his thinning, gray hair. The color drained from his face as he slowly turned to look at Salvatore, his hand falling to his side. “Does he know?”
“He knows something. He wouldn’t lay all his cards on the table, but he said enough to convince me it’s no bluff.”
“You want me to take care of it?” David’s features hardened.
“Please do. I’m thinking, though, if he knows, it’s because someone let something slip. What I need you to do is find out if there is a leak. And if there is, plug it… permanently.”
“I’ll do it. Anything else you need from me?”
Salvatore shook his head. As David left the room, he closed his eyes, rubbed his temples, and groaned. “My head is killing me,” he said to no one in particular. Opening his eyes, he tapped the call button on his phone.
“Yes, sir?” Tam’s rich voice filled the room.
“I need you.”
“I’ll be right there, Mister Scano.” In ten second’s time, Tam Broderick, his personal assistant, was coming through the door carrying a glass of Wild Turkey with two ice cubes, just the way he liked it. “I could tell by the sound of your voice that you needed a little something for your headache. She smiled, her teeth pearly white against her rich, chocolate complexion. Her big, brown eyes radiated motherly concern as she moved behind his chair and began massaging his scalp with her strong fingers.
Kennedy had found her in training for the Washington D.C. police force, and persuaded her, with a little help from Salvatore’s bank account, to come to work at ScanoGen. She had a well-organized mind and a gift for details. She was also cute enough to be believable as a secretary, but that petite bo
dy packed a wallop. She’d done a bit of kickboxing and Brazilian jiu-jitsu, and could handle a gun as well as anyone in the organization outside of Kennedy. It was little wonder she had risen so rapidly up the company ranks. At times, he had been tempted to expand their working relationship, but pragmatism always won out in the end. Tam was too valuable an asset for him to risk affecting her job performance for the sake of a little entertainment.
“You are aware that I have a late lunch scheduled this afternoon with Reverend Felts.”
“Yes, Sir. Two o’clock at the Bastille. I have a private table reserved for the two of you, your car is ready. In fact, you leave in ten minutes. You’ll have the usual security, plus two of our people in plain clothes dining a few tables away.” Her fingers traced circles across his scalp, her thumbs pressing firmly in the indentation at the base of his skull. The dull pain seemed to flow into her hands, draining him of all tension.
“Very good.” He was referring to her thorough planning, but his words could have applied to the scalp massage as well. Was there anything this woman could not do? “I need you to take care of one more detail.” Her hands worked their way down his neck, her thumbs working deep into the muscles. “Reverend Felts will not be able to make it to our lunch meeting today. I don’t want my time to go to waste, so schedule someone of consequence to dine with me. I trust you can line up someone suitable on short notice.”
“I’ll see to it right away.” Tam gave his shoulders a firm squeeze before departing. “Don’t forget your drink,” she called back over her shoulder.
Salvatore smiled as he raised his glass in a silent, mocking toast to Reverend Felts’s health. He brought the amber liquid to his lips and closed his eyes as it warmed his insides. If only all of his problems could be solved so easily.
Chapter 8
Traffic was sparse on Kensington Gore as Dane, Bones, and Kaylin approached the red brick mansion that was the headquarters of the Royal Geographical Society. Dane could not tear his eyes away from the massive chimneys, the many gables, and the steep, multi-leveled roof.
“Freakin’ cool!” Bones took out his digital camera and snapped a few pictures. “Why don’t we have office buildings like this in America?”
“Lowther Lodge.” Kaylin sounded mesmerized. “It was a private mansion before the Society bought it in 1912. That section over there,” she indicated a nondescript wing of plain red brick adorned with a pair of statues set back in alcoves high in the wall, “was once the stables, but was converted to a lecture hall.”
“Who are the stone dudes?” Bones squinted and aimed his camera at the statues.
“Ernest Shackleton, Antarctic explorer,” Kaylin said, “and David Livingstone.”
“Doctor Livingstone, I presume?” Bones mimicked a British accent.
“Bones, I’ll give you five bucks if you can tell me anything about Livingston besides that quote.” Dane didn’t bother to reach for his wallet.
Dane’s phone vibrated and he was surprised to see Jade’s name on the screen. The last time they spoke had been four days ago and she expected to be away from any kind of service for a week or more. Feeling more than a little bit weird about talking to Jade with Kaylin standing right next to him, he walked off to the side as he answered.
“Jade! Didn’t expect to hear from you for a few more days. How are you?”
“Ugh. It was a disaster, Maddock. We got all the way out to the dig site only to find out Charles hadn’t filed all the proper paperwork. Two days hike in, another two out for nothing.”
“I’m sorry about that. You should treat yourself to a massage.” “Already on the docket. You know me too well. I wish you were here, you’re actually pretty good at back rubs, but you really suck at rubbing feet.”
“That’s because I don’t like to rub feet. If I was any good at it, you’d want me to do it all the time.” The banter felt good and he realized how much he missed her.
“So, what are you up to? Still down in South Carolina finding sunken Spanish gold?”
“Actually, Bones and I are in London.” He gave her a quick run-down of the mystery and what they knew.
“Oh, Maddock, you suck! I want in on this!” Her voice was a mock-wail. “You’re going to find a lost city while I’m sitting here waiting for Charles to get his pen out of his orifice and get us some permits.”
Dane laughed. “It probably won’t come to that. We just want to find my friend’s missing boyfriend and come home.”
“Oh, so it’s a female friend you’re helping out?” she teased. “Who is she? She’d better not be prettier than me.”
“Um,” Dane felt like he was a kid again, about to confess to his mother that he’d broken a prized family heirloom. “Kaylin Maxwell.” Her silence was so complete that he thought, hoped actually, that he’d dropped the call. “Jade, you still there?”
“Yes. I’m just waiting for you to say ‘psyche’ or for Bones to get on the phone and tell me I just got punked.”
“Jade, there’s nothing going on. It’s her boyfriend.”
“Even so, it’s inappropriate, Maddock. You know that. She’s your ex-girlfriend.”
“She doesn’t have anyone else, Jade.”
“Fine. I just don’t get why you always have to be the knight in shining armor, always rescuing people. Can’t you just be a little selfish every once in a while?”
“You didn’t mind so much when I rescued you.”
Jade gave an exasperated sigh. “I know, and you’re right. It’s one of those things I hate and love about you. I just… Look, I gotta go. I’ll text you when I know when we’re heading back out into the field.”
“Okay. Be safe.”
“You too.” She ended the call without a goodbye.
Dane closed his phone with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. Jade was so confusing. Was she mad at him or not? Did he really care?
“Yo, Maddock! If you’re done with girl talk, how about we go inside?” Tucking his camera into his pocket, Bones sauntered past the black wrought iron gates framed by tall brick columns, and up to the front door. To the right of the arched doorway, a black, marble bust of a man of late middle years sat on a white stone pedestal.
“Churchill!” Bones exclaimed. “I love this dude! Let’s rub his head for good luck.” He turned toward the bust, but Kaylin took him by the elbow and pulled him back.
“That’s not Winston Churchill; it’s one of the former presidents of the society. Let’s just go inside.”
“President? Shouldn’t he have been Prime Minister?”
“You keep proving you’re smarter than you look, Bones.” Kaylin gave him a playful elbow to the ribs.
“Don’t tell him that,” Dane said. “He prefers to lower people’s expectations so he can catch them by surprise with his occasional flashes of brilliance.”
He opened the door, held it for the others, and stepped through. The interior of the Royal Geographical Society smelled of books, lemons, and age. The years seemed to emanate from the walls, ghostly echoes of the many great men who had walked these halls.
“Welcome to the Royal Geographical Society. How may I help you?” The speaker was an attractive woman of early middle years dressed in a business suit. Her white shirt was unbuttoned a bit farther down than was strictly professional and, as she leaned toward Dane, elbows propped on the counter, she pushed her breasts up for full effect. Bones stifled a cough and turned away, but not before Dane saw him grinning.
“Yes,” Dane said, glancing at her name tag, which read Sarah Richards, and quickly redirecting his gaze to the woman’s eyes, which were actually a very pretty bluish-green, “we’re hoping to do some research on Percy Fawcett. Do you…” he broke off as Kaylin ran her fingers along his forearm. What was she playing at? And after he’d just assured Jade there was nothing to be jealous about. Struggling to suppress the heat that was rising up the back of his neck, he recovered his train of thought and started again.
“Do you have a Fawcett
section, or anything like that?” He hoped that if he played the polite, but uninformed, American, he might gain a little extra helpfulness from the woman at the counter.
“We have many documents pertaining to Fawcett.” Her eyes flitted toward Kaylin for only a fraction of a second, but Dane did not miss the disapproval, if not outright anger, that burned there. “Might you be looking for something in particular?”
“Yes, we particularly want information on his last expedition.” She pursed her lips and her eyes narrowed, doubtless wondering if he was one of the many whack jobs seeking Fawcett’s legendary lost city, so he hurried on. “Also, we’re looking for a particular painting. It’s a portrait of him seated, holding a book…”
“Of course.” The smile was back. “That portrait hangs in the room just up the staircase and to the left. For your research, you should go to the Foyle room. Ask for Benjamin and he will be happy to assist you. He is our resident Fawcett expert.” After checking their identification, and entering their names into a computer, she pointed them to a grand staircase, its ornately carved banisters polished to a high sheen.
Dane thanked her for her help, and as they turned to walk away, Kaylin hooked her arm in his and laid her head on his shoulder.
“What are you up to?” He kept his voice low.
“Ditch me,” she whispered. “And make it obvious.”
“Say what?”
“I want to know if Thomas was here. That lady’s got the hots for you. Make an excuse, go back and flirt with her a little bit, and then ask her to check and see if Thomas was here.”
“You are one wicked woman.” Now her flirtatious behavior made sense. As they reached the stairwell, he pulled away from her. “I’ll meet you up in the reading room,” he said to Kaylin, his voice loud enough to be heard in the quiet lobby, but not so much as to make it obvious that he wanted to be overheard. “I have a few more questions I forgot to ask. I’ll be there in a little while.”
Kaylin pouted and shot an angry glance toward the front counter before flouncing away up the stairs. Dane had to hand it to her. She was quite the actress when she needed to be.
