by K. T. Tomb
“You could have answered some of these, Travis. Mostly begging letters and spam, but there’s some interesting stuff here. Some of it might even be worth looking into, once the team is back together. Although, the press coverage of Baikal hasn’t done us any favors by publicizing us to every crank and conspiracy theorist on the planet.”
Travis perched himself a little awkwardly on the desk, looking over Savannah’s shoulder. The bright screen was just about visible if he closed one eye completely and squinted a bit with the other.
“This guy thinks that aliens, in collusion with the U.S. government, are poisoning cattle in Wyoming to introduce super-viruses into the food chain. Can we investigate?”
The chuckle in Travis’ throat was stymied by the pain in his skull. Savannah touted at him, and produced some painkillers from her jacket pocket.
“Oh, Sav, you’re a life saver.”
“I know. Damn the emails, have you checked Prometheus’ Torch at all while you’ve been camping out here? And stop sitting on the desk, it’s a Miles & Edwards.”
Savannah shooed him off with a wave of her hand. Travis took to standing behind her instead, fumbling for the aspirin and knocking a couple back with the bitter black coffee.
“Everything in here is a bloody antique. It’s like working in a museum. And no, I haven’t checked the website; I thought we were off the job for a while.”
Savannah didn’t reply, but logged into prometheustorch.org and accessed the ‘open investigations’ tab. On this open forum, anyone could post a project they wanted investigated, provided that it was within the remit of the Torch’s area of collective expertise. There were the usual pleas for help with missing people which were usually handled by the increasing number of private detectives utilizing the forum. Travis had not seen quite so many posts before. The Alpha Adventures recent case investigating the mysterious floating city at Baikal must have brought some serious publicity, judging by the number of direct requests for their company in particular. ‘Alphas, I think we have found Bigfoot.’ read one, another claimed to have a lead on Atlantis itself.
“Wow,” said Travis, “You crack one criminal crime gang in Russia and all of a sudden you’re a member of the Scooby Doo Gang. Do you want to be Velma, or Daphne?”
Savannah snorted, and did a passable impression of the cartoon dog.
“Good one, Shaggy!” She dropped the accent- “Hey, look at this. This is local… sort of. Atlanta/Tochigi.”
Savannah opened the thread, which had a smattering of replies. Travis knew Tochigi was in Japan, and his mind was already made up to reject the inevitable excitement Savannah would exhibit at the prospect of another overseas stint, especially to a country with as much detailed history as Japan.
“Sav, can we just stick to domestic? I’d really rather not have to deal with international foreign relations again. If you remember, I kind of got a little bit shot the last time, and regardless of how much that hurt, which was a lot, it caused a lot of problems with Homeland Security, not to mention the unending questions from the press and the Russians. And my mom. She was the worst of them all. You’ve not met her, but a sixty-five year old woman from Wisconsin on the warpath about her son getting shot is something even I am afraid of.”
He couldn’t help the sarcasm in his voice. It made it easier to talk about the shooting if he acted like it was a big joke. Savannah wasn’t convinced in the least.
“Ok, Trav,” she accentuated the contraction to illustrate her annoyance at Travis’ insistence on doing the same to hers. “Firstly, Japan has incredibly strict gun laws. No one has guns. It’s a highly formal society, and I doubt we’ll be running into the Russian mob, ok? Secondly, those are Thyri’s orders. We’re taking a job. I’m not going to sit here while you reject everything on the basis of ‘it-might-cause-some-paperwork’. And thirdly, if I have to field another call from Adam at five in the morning because he can’t get hold of you on the phone, I’m going to send YOU to England, so then you will be his problem.” Her tone softened, as she switched her approach. “It’s been four months since Baikal, Travis. It’s time you got back on the horse. I know it was tough, b-“
Travis cut her off, his hangover exacerbating his indignation, “Tough? Yeah, I don’t like getting shot, funny how that is. I don’t know about you, but that wasn’t what I expected at all when I signed up for this. I wanted to see some places and solve some problems and make a bit of extra cash, not find myself having a shoulder like Swiss cheese after what would be described as a bad day in Chechnya, and a really fucking awful day anywhere else. Savannah, I’m not sure I want to do this again, ok? I’m an anthropologist. I’m not cut out for it.”
He slumped back on the desk. Savannah let it slide.
“Alright, no need to take that tone. I know it was hard, but look at this case. It looks like a paper trail! Purely investigatory, we get to see Japan, I get to brush up on my Japanese, you get to eat some sushi and maybe drink a little sake. It’ll be administrative work when we’re out there, which I’ll be doing seeing as you don’t read Japanese. It’ll be like a holiday!”
That didn’t sound so bad to Travis, but he still didn’t feel like doing anything that involved not being drunk.
“What about Angelo? I can’t leave him on his own.” He knew he was stretching.
“Already arranged. Alice from Student Support at the University is going hiking; she said she’d love to take him with her. And he could really do with not hanging out with you in an office for the rest of his life.”
Travis looked at Angelo. He realized that the dog could definitely use some country air. He had not been on a proper walk in weeks, and after all, Japan was one of the safest societies in the world. Still, there was no way he was going to let Savannah know he’d caved so easily.
“Fine, fine. What’s the job?” Savannah scrolled the page on the screen.
“Something about the deed to an amethyst mine. The mine itself apparently doesn’t exist, but the prospective client says here that it’s a well-known family story that their Japanese ancestors owned an amethyst mine and were cheated out of it in the post-war period. She’s in Atlanta, lives here, apparently. I’ll email her, and set up a meeting, ok?”
Travis nodded, noncommittally, but at least it was something to do. Savannah left shortly afterwards, taking Angelo with her. The Jack Russell seemed excited to be going somewhere, unlike his master. Once they had gone, Travis decided his hangover wasn’t so bad after all. From the draw in the antique desk he withdrew an as yet unopened bottle of wine. The meeting probably wouldn’t take place for a day or two at the very least, and he was parched from actually talking to another human being instead of his silent telepathic communication with his canine friend.
He poured a glass, put on some Led Zeppelin, and lay back in the chair with his eyes closed, the departed perfume of Savannah and Angelo’s doggy aroma still clinging to his mind.
“A” IS FOR AMETHYST
is available at:
Amazon Kindle * Amazon UK * Amazon AU
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About the author:
K.T. Tomb enjoys traveling the world when not writing adventure thrillers. She lives in Portland, OR. Please find her at:
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