Curse of the Painted Lady (The Anlon Cully Chronicles Book 3)

by K Patrick Donoghue

  “Got it,” Jennifer said. Out in the hallway, she mumbled, “Better start working on a plan D.”

  Anlon sat in the corner of the conference room, looking down at the screen of his cell phone, willing Muran to call. He checked his email and texts, too, just in case. Frustrated, he slapped the phone down. “Come on, Muran, let’s get this over with!”

  He rose from the table and stood by the long bank of windows. Outside, a steady stream of white and red lights passed each other under the glow of orangish-pink streetlights. In the reflection of the window, he saw the remains of the pizza boxes the crew minting the bogus Sinethal had consumed earlier in the evening. He turned to grab a slice of the pepperoni and jalapeño pizza he’d requested in honor of Pebbles. As he munched on the cold, limp slice, he thought of how hard the crew had worked to fashion the forgery.

  It had been fascinating to watch Mereau, Dylan and Antonio engineer the forgery together. Almost as fascinating as it had been to watch Mereau experience a car ride for the first time in his life. At first, the man had held onto Anlon’s arm so tight, he cut off the circulation. Then, when Antonio had the driver lower the windows after Mereau announced he felt sick, Mereau had laughed like a child as the wind peppered his face.

  Once they arrived, however, Mereau had been all business. Thankfully, Dylan had suppressed his childlike curiosity when introduced to the ten-thousand-year-old Mereau, and the three men had gone to work to create the gold, disc-shaped Sinethal mold. Mereau had accessed Malinyah’s Sinethal to retrieve the disc dimensions, which he had then communicated to Dylan. When it had come time to design the notches on the back and Omereau’s six-pointed star symbol for the Sinethal’s front side, Dylan had trouble accurately incorporating the features. After several unsuccessful iterations, Mereau had handed Malinyah’s Sinethal and a Naetir to Dylan so that he could meet with Malinyah and see the features with his mind’s eye.

  Dylan had been a trooper, Anlon thought. He had been badly shaken up by the experience of meeting Malinyah, but after a shot of enjyia supplied by Mereau, he had hopped on the computer and finished the mold design without asking a single question.

  Meanwhile, Anlon and Antonio had discussed how to wire the booby trap inside the device. They agreed that if Muran somehow took possession of the gold disc, she would likely hold it as if she were using it, placing her fingers in the handhold notches. She would not suspect any electrical current given the absence of the lyktyl.

  Antonio had huddled with some of his engineers on-site, and they came up with a design for high-voltage, pressure-sensitive shock nodes that could be placed beneath the surface of each handhold. While the engineers crafted the nodes, Antonio had described the concept to Anlon and Jennifer. “They’re essentially high-tech joy buzzers, but they pack a bigger, more painful punch. If nothing else, it’ll surprise Muran long enough to disarm her.”

  Once the nodes had been constructed, the mold casting had been modified to incorporate inner slots on each half of the mold to hold the nodes in place. Then had come the smelting process. Anlon, Jennifer and Katie had joined a dozen of Antonio’s technicians as they peered into the lab from the hallway windows. Anlon had marveled at the ancient captain’s nimble touch with the two Stones. First, Mereau had primed the Tuliskaera by grinding a Naetir against the base of the cone-shaped Stone. Once the snake design on the Tuliskaera glowed a reddish-orange, Mereau had turned the hockey-puck-shaped Naetir on its side and struck the base of the Tuliskaera. A laserlike beam had shot from the cone tip of the Tuliskaera, causing the technicians to ooh and aah. Within minutes, the gold bars had been liquefied and poured into the two mold halves.

  Then, Mereau had used a Breylofte to generate sound waves that sped the cooling process, a technique used by the Munuorians when working with metals in building their ships, Mereau had explained afterward. Anlon had been further impressed by Mereau’s craftsmanship when it came time to seal the two gold castings. Mereau had used Dreylaeks to reheat the inner faces of the castings enough for the two pieces to stick together. Once the two halves had been fused, Anlon could barely detect a seam around its edges.

  Mereau had been quite pleased with the outcome, proclaiming to Anlon and Antonio that its appearance was authentic enough to fool Muran, which had prompted Dylan to respond, “Just pray she doesn’t bring a metal detector.”

  “Why might that cause a problem?” Katie asked Dylan. She had been standing next to Anlon and Jennifer, watching the spectacle.

  “Mereau told us the gold in the real-deal Sinethal is almost pure, which means it has a very low magnetic signature,” Dylan had explained. “Our baby, on the other hand, has the shock devices inside, and with all the metal in them, they’ll pop a much higher reading on a detector.”

  “I wouldn’t worry about it. I doubt she’ll have a metal detector,” Anlon had said.

  “I don’t know, Anlon, I wouldn’t be too sure about that. If she’s figured out the medallion is a fake, she’s likely to be super suspicious about both Sinethals. Wouldn’t you think?” Antonio had replied.

  With Antonio’s words replaying in Anlon’s mind, he sipped from a bottle of water to cool the jalapeños’ bite and turned his thought to Pebbles. Based on what Jennifer had relayed from Li, she was now definitely in the presence of The Betrayer. As hard-nosed as he knew Pebbles was, Anlon worried about her health and state of mind. They would need her to be “in the moment,” physically and mentally, when it came time for the exchange. If Muran attacked as Mereau expected, things would happen fast, and Pebbles would need to be ready to react.

  There was a knock at the door and he looked up to see Jennifer standing in the doorway. She smiled and asked, “You okay? Mind if I come in?”

  “Of course, come on over. Take a load off,” Anlon said, pulling out a chair next to him and patting the seat cushion.

  “Thanks,” she said. She slid onto the seat and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Looking down at the table, she used her finger to trace along the wood-grain pattern. “I can’t imagine what she’s going through.”

  “Yeah, I know. I’m worried about her, too,” Anlon said.

  “I’m so angry at myself for not trusting my instincts. As soon as we heard about Anabel, I knew there would be trouble,” Jennifer said.

  “At least your danger radar was working. I never saw this coming. Not the way it rolled out,” Anlon said.

  “I talked with Griffin a few minutes ago,” Jennifer said. “He feels awful, too. He had coffee with Pebbles the morning everything happened. He said she gave him shit for wearing shorts in the cold and wished him safe travels when he left.”

  “Where did he go?”

  “Maui.”

  “Lucky duck.”

  “Yeah. He’s back now. He came back as soon as he got my message from the hospital. I haven’t had the chance to talk with him until now. He wanted you to know he’ll take care of anything you need done at the house. He said all the cop cars are gone, but the police tape’s still across the driveway and front door.”

  “God, I hadn’t even thought about the house. We ran out so quickly, I’m not even sure I have my keys,” Anlon said.

  “I know how you feel. A bunch of my stuff’s still in Burlington. I hope the hotel didn’t trash it all,” she said.

  “I’m sure they didn’t. I’ll bet they had their security folks bag it all up and hold it. You should ask Katie to check on it. She’ll probably get your gear here by sunrise,” Anlon said, smiling.

  “No kidding. She’d probably go get it herself!” Jennifer said.

  They both laughed, and then Jennifer returned to her idle tracing of the table’s surface. After a few minutes’ silence, Anlon asked, “Something else on your mind?”

  “Yeah, a few things, actually.”

  “Like what?”

  “Mereau pulled me aside a little while ago to talk about a plan D.”

  “He did?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And?”

&nbs
p; Jennifer sighed. “You’re probably not going to like his idea.”

  “Well, what is it?”

  Without looking up from the table, Jennifer described Mereau’s plan. When she finished, Anlon pounded the table and said, “No way. Out of the question.”

  Rising from the table, Anlon bolted from the room in search of Mereau.

  Jennifer laid her head on the pillow and glanced at the glowing bedside clock. It was almost midnight. She was so exhausted she could barely hold her eyes open. With the little strength she had left, she pulled back the comforter and rolled her body between the sheets. She closed her eyes and said a prayer for Pebbles.

  Rolling on her side, she clamped a pillow against her torso and nestled her head on another. She inhaled deeply through her nose and exhaled slowly through pursed lips. As she neared sleep, a jumble of the day’s events and conversations went through her mind. The meeting with Malinyah stood out the most. Recalling the seaside encounter, Jennifer wiggled her toes. The feel of sand between her toes returned as she revisited the memory. She thought of meeting Mereau, his plan and the crafting of the “Trojan disc.” She whispered a hope that the deception would work and shifted her thoughts to wonder what had happened to Omereau’s Sinethal, mumbling, “What did you do with it, Anabel?”

  The question was followed by a deep yawn. Jennifer curled into the fetal position and tried to clear her mind. Several deep breaths later, her eyes shot open and she gasped. She yanked away the covers and searched in the dark for her cell phone on the bedside table. She found it and pulled it from the charging cord. As she paced in the dark, she looked at the time. It was close to one in the morning, which meant it was approaching 4 a.m. in Vermont. Jennifer bit her fingernail as she continued to pace. Should I call him or text him? she wondered. If I call him and I’m wrong, he’ll be pissed I dragged him out of bed and I’ll look like an idiot. She opened the text app and typed out a quick message. “Call me as soon as you see this message!”

  Jennifer had just pushed the send link when the doorbell to her room rang. The sound startled her and she dropped the phone. The doorbell sounded again, followed by pounding on the door. Jennifer reached for the switch to the bedside table lamp and called out, “Hold your horses, I’m coming.”

  Clad in T-shirt and undies, she padded to the door. “Who is it?”

  “It’s me,” Anlon said from the other side of the door.

  Jennifer cracked the door open. Anlon was fully dressed. He said, “Agent Li just called. They found Muran’s plane. Grab what you need and let’s go. We’re headed to Mexico.”

  Chapter 20 – Hell’s Angels

  Laguna Milagros, Mexico

  (The lagoon of miracles)

  September 30

  Pebbles closed her eyes and listened to the rhythmic patter of the palm fronds. In the distance, she could hear children splashing and a Jet Ski churning water. Closer by, a radio played a salsa tune, and a flock of gulls squawked at each other. Replace the rustling palms with whistling pines, and substitute hawks for the gulls, and the mix of sounds reminded her of the secluded cove on Lake Tahoe where she and Jennifer often sunbathed and practiced with their Breyloftes.

  Opening her eyes, she looked around the windowless hut. Broad wood planks formed the walls and floor, while the pitched ceiling was made of thatch. Above the bed, a ceiling fan with blades of woven palm frond lazily circled. On the wall directly across from the bed, various masks were mounted. Painted with a variety of tropical colors, their eyeless faces stared down at her. Each mask depicted the head of a different animal, and depending on how Pebbles chose to look at them, their faces could appear menacing or cheerful. Whenever Kora came to check on her, the masks seemed to exhibit fear.

  It must be all the enjyia she’s feeding me, Pebbles thought. Kora’s frequent visits began to make her think of the story of Hansel and Gretel. Pebbles doubted Muran intended to eat her, but there was definitely an unspoken purpose to the hourly feedings. She realized she shouldn’t complain, however. Each cup of the Munuorian elixir gave her more strength and eased her various aches and pains. Plus, the feeding sessions provided respites from the muzzle covering the bottom half of her face and the shackles restraining her hands and feet to the bedposts.

  She had tried on several occasions to pull free from the shackles without success and had learned that making any intelligible sounds through her clamped jaws was impossible. At least they hadn’t beaten or zapped her again, thought Pebbles. Although, there had been a close call toward the end of the flight. Muran had exploded from the cockpit cussing and snarling, but Kora had corralled her before she reached Pebbles.

  Since then, Kora had been the only one Pebbles had seen. Muran had not deplaned at the same time as they had, and she hadn’t joined them for the drive to wherever they were now. As she had been blindfolded and stuffed in another trunk for the drive, Pebbles did not know much about her surroundings beyond the sounds she picked up and the visible contents of the small hut in which she was imprisoned. It was hot and humid, like Nicaragua, but absent of the jungle sounds or constant rain showers. She also knew they were near a body of water, but it wasn’t an ocean, for she heard no crashing waves. It’s either a lake or a river, Pebbles thought. She presumed they were somewhere in Mexico, given that the deejays on the radio station broadcasting the salsa music spoke entirely in Spanish and their station-break jingle ended with a bass-voiced “Meh-hee-ko.” Pebbles had heard the jingle enough times by now to imagine various English translations. Her favorite was, “The best damn salsa music in all of Mexico!”

  Wherever they were, they wouldn’t be there much longer, Pebbles thought. Kora had interrogated her a few times since their arrival, and during their last “chat,” Kora had brought Pebbles a fresh change of clothes. When Kora lifted the turquoise tunic for her to see, Pebbles had thought, “How Munuorian of you.” In true Munuorian style, the sleeveless, mid-thigh-length tunic was all that Kora gave her. No shoes or sandals were provided for her feet, and no undergarments were offered. She had been allowed to bathe in private, and then was told to don the tunic.

  “What’s up? Are we going out for margaritas?” Pebbles had joked as she emerged from the hut’s bathroom wearing the tunic, her first effort at levity since her ordeal began. Kora hadn’t smiled. Instead, she’d shackled and muzzled Pebbles once again and left the hut, locking the door from the outside.

  For the past hour, Pebbles had concentrated on Kora’s wide-ranging questions. Instead of pummeling her endlessly about where Omereau’s Sinethal was located, Kora had focused mostly on Foucault, Anabel and Devlin. She seemed most interested in “where, what, when” kinds of questions. When did you meet Foucault? Where? She asked about the location of Mereau’s Maerlif again and wanted to know when Foucault had found it. She had asked if Pebbles had been to Anabel’s house and if she’d seen her artifact collection. Kora wanted to know if Pebbles was aware of any recent travel Anabel might have taken. She asked Pebbles if she’d known Devlin and probed her about his collection.

  In the last interrogation, she’d turned her attention to Malinyah. She wanted to know how much Malinyah had told Pebbles about Munirvo, Muran and Omereau. She asked Pebbles to describe her relationship with Malinyah, and about whether Malinyah was aware Muran was still alive. Kora asked about the lyktyl, wanting to know if Malinyah had worn it in the visions she shared with Pebbles. She’d also asked whether Malinyah had talked about the medallion or if she’d shown Pebbles its forging.

  Pebbles had answered all the questions, but she had tempered the amount of detail she provided in several of her answers, and she had omitted some key pieces of information when answering others. She was most curious that Kora never asked about the Munirvo Maerlif map, nor did she spend much time on Omereau. At one point, Pebbles had asked Kora to tell her about Omereau, but Kora had ignored the question. The same occurred when Pebbles tried to learn more about how Muran and Anabel had known each other.

  The only time Kora had shown a
ny sign of anger had been near the end of the last interrogation. Pebbles, feeling like there was some sort of bond developing between them, had asked, “Why don’t you let me call Anlon? I’ll tell him you want Malinyah. I’ll ask him about Omereau. Maybe he knows something I don’t. He could ask Malinyah, too.”

  Kora had leaned over the bed and snapped at her to be quiet, but Pebbles kept going. “If she doesn’t know, maybe Foucault does. I could ask Anlon to call him. Or I can ask Anlon to get Foucault’s number so you can call him.”

  The suggestions had seemed to intrigue Kora. She had backed off and turned away. To Pebbles, it had looked like Kora was seriously considering her offer to help. Sensing a crack in the armor, Pebbles had said, “Look, I just want to go home. I don’t care about the stupid Stones. I’ll help you get what you want. I’ll help you get Malinyah and see what I can find out about Omereau for you. In return, you let me go.”

  When Kora had turned back around, the expression on her face told Pebbles their conversation had come to an end. She’d roughly tugged the muzzle over Pebbles’ mouth and then stormed from the hut, slamming the door on her way out.

  So much for being a team player, Pebbles had thought.

  Aja rocked back and forth, sipping enjyia and staring out at the lagoon’s turquois-tinted water. The afternoon sun had passed behind the villa, casting a cooling shadow over the veranda. She smiled. Twelve centuries had passed since she had last been to the lagoon, and even though the landscape around it had changed somewhat over that time, the spot still evoked fond memories.

  This is where it all began, she thought. The very best years of my life. Aja closed her eyes and recalled leading the young bride into a stand of trees by the water’s edge. Wak Chanil Ajaw had been so afraid when the Taellin was pulled on her head. She had cried like a frightened child, begging to be set free. She had even tried to stand up and run, but the weight of the Taellin had made her stumble and fall. Once the girl had been returned to her knees, the teenager had turned wild, thrashing about just like Alynioria had. And just as Aja had done to Malinyah’s precious daughter, she strangled Wak Chanil Ajaw until the bride slumped to the ground, unconscious.