Foreign Affairs (A Nick Teffinger Thriller / Read in Any Order)
Page 16
“Good enough for me,” she said.
Durand smiled, fired up the engine and pointed the front end back towards the city. “I was scared I’d freak you out with all this stuff,” he said.
“Sorry, it takes more than that to freak this girl out,” she said. “Let’s go to a bar and get drunk.”
Right.
Good idea.
Chapter Sixty-Four
Day Six—July 17
Saturday Evening
______________
PROFESSOR TRISTAN-PIERRE MARTIN wasn’t used to being in the company of someone as striking as Fallon Le Rue, and it showed in the way he diverted his eyes every time she looked at him. He taught archeology at the university, together with Remy Lafayette. He was slight of build, slight of looks, and hid his face behind round John Lennon glasses and an overgrown moustache that any normal person would have whacked off years ago. His office was cluttered with books and papers and dusty corners. Teffinger looked at it with a frown and would have paid half his salary on the spot to make the window bigger.
“I get Remy’s leftovers,” the professor said. “Everyone signs up for him and then gets spilled into my class when his fills up.”
Fallon smiled.
“I doubt that,” she said. “Thanks for seeing us on such short notice, especially on a Saturday night. We really appreciate it.”
The professor chuckled.
“Yeah, I had to put my harem on hold, but it’s not like they won’t be there when I get back.”
Fallon smiled.
“Let’s see what you have,” he said.
FALLON LOOKED FOR A CLEAN SPOT on the desk to set the papers, found none, and handed them to him. They were the papers and photographs from the mysterious file found under the floater’s couch earlier today. Now, however, each piece was individually sealed and marked in a clear evidence bag.
As they suspected, the notes were written in Egyptian.
The professor read them out loud, fluently.
They turned out to be field notes dated eighteen years ago. Although the author wasn’t identified, he referred to his ten-year-old daughter Alexandra.
Fallon turned to Teffinger. “If they’re actually eighteen years old, that would put this Alexandra at twenty-eight now.”
Teffinger agreed.
The notes talked about an archeological investigation that the author, his wife and their daughter Alexandra, had been doing in an area west of the Valley of the Kings, in Egypt. Although the notes described the area with some particularity, there was no reference to them finding anything. About the only thing of real interest was on the last page, which talked about the father getting bit by a viper at the base of a craggy mountain cliff.
“If there’s something here that I’m supposed to be seeing, I’m not seeing it,” Teffinger said.
“Me either,” Fallon said.
“Do you see something we don’t?” Teffinger asked the professor.
No.
He didn’t.
The notes were nothing more than a daily diary of random wanderings by someone that went nowhere, eighteen years ago.
“We’re assuming that these notes were in Remy Lafayette’s possession at the time he got killed,” Teffinger said. “Why would he have them?”
The professor shrugged.
“No reason that I can see,” he said. “He can write Egyptian but that’s not his handwriting. Whoever wrote this, it was someone other than him.”
THE TEN OR TWELVE PHOTOGRAPHS were easy to explain. They were photographs of the inventory lists from the tomb that was discovered in the Valley of the Kings six months ago.
“That’s what Remy was working on before he died,” the professor said, “finding the missing treasure.”
Missing treasure?
What missing treasure?
“You don’t know?”
No.
He didn’t.
So the professor told him.
A tomb was discovered six months ago, a tomb remarkably well preserved, a tomb totally intact except for one small thing, namely all of the treasure was missing. “It’s never shown up anywhere in the world,” the professor said.
ON THE DRIVE BACK to the houseboat, Teffinger said, “At the risk of seeming like the most boring person in the world, especially on a Saturday night, what I’d really like to do tonight if you don’t mind is just chill out on the boat and get to bed early.”
That was fine with Fallon.
“I don’t need to be entertained, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
WHEN THEY GOT TO THE BOAT, Teffinger spotted something out of place—a burlap sack on the deck in the middle of the sitting area, empty. Fallon took it, threw it away and said, “Some people think that this is just a giant floating garbage can.”
They brought a flat-panel TV outside, popped in a DVD—King Kong—and cuddled up in the cushions.
Teffinger had half his brain on the movie and half on what the professor told them.
“My neighbor has a smart dog,” he said.
Fallon looked at him.
“Where did that come from?”
Teffinger chuckled.
“What he does is put the dog on a rope and then loops that rope around a tree,” Teffinger said. “Then he puts a bowl of food in front of the dog, just out of reach. No matter how strong the dog pulls, he can’t get to the food. Now, most dogs in that situation would starve to death, but not this dog. He eventually figures out that to get to the food, he actually has to go in the opposite direction first and un-loop himself around the tree.”
Fallon wrinkled her forehead.
“And you’re telling me this, because?”
“Because we need to be as smart as that dog,” he said. “I’m starting to think that the best way for us to get to the bottom of everything here in Paris is to go to Cairo.”
“So Cairo is the tree, in your example.”
Teffinger clinked his beer can against her glass of wine.
“Bingo,” he said.
“And you and me are the dogs,” she said.
“Well, yeah.”
“You’re such a poet, Teffinger,” she said. “Has anyone ever told you that?”
He nodded.
“It’s a curse I have. Same as T.S. Elliot.”
He looked down at his foot but it was too dark to see anything
“What’s the matter?” Fallon asked.
“Nothing, I just thought I felt something for a second.”
Chapter Sixty-Five
Day Seven—July 18
Sunday Morning
______________
DEJA AND ALEXANDRA made it to the cave just before daybreak. No one had been there since they left, as far as they could tell. Deja climbed up first, opened the hole and pulled up all their stuff with a rope. Then Alexandra tied the rope around her chest and climbed as best she could with a broken arm while Deja pulled.
She made it.
So cool.
They curled the rope up.
Directly inside the mouth were lots of spiders. “Don’t worry about them,” Alexandra said. “They’re not poisonous or anything. They’re probably the reason the vipers are coming in.”
To eat them?
Right.
That.
“Okay, snake time,” Alexandra said.
They swept the front area thoroughly with their flashlights and found no snakes.
The cave bent to the right and opened into a second chamber about the size of a bus. “There’s some of the pottery I told you about,” Deja said, bouncing her light on it.
“Cool.”
They saw no snakes.
“The big room’s through that door,” Deja said. “That’s where the viper was.”
They entered cautiously and panned the room with their lights, including the walls and ceiling, but saw no snakes.
“They’re probably behind the pots,” Alexandra said.
Deja swallowed.
“Ma
ybe there was just that one and he left,” she said.
Silence.
“Don’t stick your hands anywhere you can’t see.”
“Don’t worry.”
“That includes our stuff,” Alexandra said. “Don’t reach into your backpack unless you look first.”
Right.
Good idea.
Suddenly they saw something move near the far end of the room.
“Company.”
ALEXANDRA GOT ONE OF THE BURLAP BAGS out of her backpack, set it on the ground, then turned off the flashlight and set it next to the bag. “Okay, we’re going to walk towards it. Keep the light right in its eyes.”
“That’s not the one I saw yesterday,” Deja said. “It’s smaller.”
They walked across the room.
Slowly.
The snake was about three meters in front of the coffin. Deja veered to the right, holding the light high and keeping it in the reptile’s eyes, while Alexandra stepped to the left.
The snake curled up and raised its head.
Fair warning.
Fixated on the light.
Making that terrible sound.
FFFFFFFF—
Alexandra slowly worked her way behind it.
Now within striking distance if it turned.
The reptile bobbed its head back and forth. Alexandra gauged the rhythm and then reached for the back of its neck with every ounce of speed she had.
She got it nd pulled it up until it dangled.
It twisted violently.
“Get the bag!”
Deja did.
Alexandra dropped it inside and immediately pulled the drawstring and tied it.
“I can’t believe you did that,” Deja said.
“Me either, you should feel my heart.”
SUDDENLY SOMETHING MOVED on the floor, another snake, a bigger one, not more than two steps away, coming right at them.
Deja screamed and Alexandra swung the bag at it.
Chapter Sixty-Six
Day Seven—July 18
Sunday
______________
DURAND SLEPT UNTIL NOON on Sunday, still dull from too much alcohol last night, but not to the point of pain or dysfunction. He showered with Prarie and ended up getting a nice blowjob under the spray. Then he took her out for coffee and croissants and felt the need for culture.
They went to the Musee d’Orsay and got lost in the magic of the masters.
Renoir.
Monet.
Degas.
Sisley.
Cassatt.
Van Gogh.
“I’ve always wanted to do something like this that would live on after I died,” he said.
“Why?”
He shrugged.
“I don’t know—just to leave my mark, I guess. Prove I was here.”
She locked her arm through his.
“You can leave your mark on me,” she said.
He smiled.
“That’ll work too.”
Yeah?
Yeah.
FIVE MINUTES LATER, he was admiring Paul Gauguin’s “Breton Peasant Women” when Nicholas Ringer called and asked, “Everything go okay last night?”
“Yeah, no problems.”
“Good. I wired some money to your account.”
“I trust you.”
“Yeah, I know, but you trust money more.”
Durand chuckled.
“Maybe a little.”
When he hung up, Prarie asked, “Who was that?”
“Work.”
“Just so long as it isn’t another woman,” she said.
“Why?”
She hugged him.
“Because I want you all to myself.”
“Well you have me all to yourself, so there.”
“Good.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Chapter Sixty-Seven
Day Seven—July 18
Sunday Morning
______________
TEFFINGER GOT UP BEFORE DAYBREAK Sunday morning and slipped out of bed, careful to not wake Fallon, who looked more dead than sleeping. He popped in his contacts and headed outside for a jog.
The air was nice, cool without being chilly.
Traffic didn’t exist.
The maniac drivers were still asleep.
The river was peaceful and reflected the city lights with an artist’s touch. Teffinger ran across the bridge and opened up the pace, letting his legs stretch and his lungs burn.
Archeology.
Archeology.
Archeology.
Everywhere he turned, there it was.
A tomb was discovered in the Valley of the Kings six months ago. The treasure from that tomb was missing. Archeologist Remy Lafayette was trying to figure out where it was and ended up murdered. His files on the project were missing. Some of those files ended up under the couch of a lowlife scumbag named Pascal Lambert, who got shot in the chest, and got his head and hands cut off and thrown into the woods, by at least two people, and ended up floating in the river, seriously dead.
Remy Lafayette’s niece, Deja, had her apartment torn apart and then she mysteriously disappeared to Cairo, not wanting anyone to know where she was. Some of the files found under the lowlife’s couch dealt with archeological explorations undertaken eighteen years ago.
Amanda Peterson got her eyes gouged out in Denver.
Tracy White—the witness—got her eyes gouged out in Paris, obviously by the same man.
Tracy’s roommate, Michelle Berri, was taken by that same man.
Michelle Berri was into archeology.
Teffinger’s heart raced.
NOW THAT HE HAD IT ALL ORGANIZED, there was only one conclusion—the man who killed Amanda Peterson and Tracy White, and who took Michelle Berri, was somehow connected to these archeological events. In fact, now that Teffinger thought about it, maybe the man’s initial interest had been in Michelle Berri the whole time and not in Tracy White at all. Maybe he just happened to stumble across her by incredibly good luck.
Everything was clear.
Teffinger needed to get to the missing treasure because that’s where the killer was headed.
BACK AT THE HOUSEBOAT, he shook Fallon until she woke up. “Come on, sleepyhead. We need to go to Cairo.”
Then he headed to the shower.
She joined him three minutes later and said, “Lather me up,” while she washed her hair.
He did; and told her his theory.
She wasn’t impressed.
“The connection’s thin,” she said. “True, there’s a lot of archeological stuff going on, but the only link between that and your eye-gouger is a rumor that Michelle Berri was into archeology. We haven’t even verified that’s true yet.”
“You don’t believe the guy down at the Louvre?”
“Of course I do, but we haven’t established any details yet.”
“We don’t have time,” he said. “Everything’s going down in Cairo. I can feel it.”
She shook her head, still not impressed.
“I’ll go,” she said, “but only because someone needs to keep you out of trouble.”
Teffinger smiled and slapped her ass.
Chapter Sixty-Eight
Day Seven—July 18
Sunday Morning
______________
THE VIPER STOPPED WHEN THE BAG HIT IT. Then it curled up, bobbed its head, hissed, and disappeared behind the coffin. A quick sweep of the cave with flashlights didn’t show any more charging reptiles.
“That one scares me,” Alexandra said. “Let’s just let him be for right now.”
That was fine with Deja, more than fine.
Alexandra surveyed the cave. There were several dozen large pottery containers, a lot more than she expected. She dusted one off and found perfectly preserved markings.
“The pottery alone is worth a fortune,” she said.
She lifted the top, keeping a distance just in case ther
e were snakes inside.
There weren’t.
“Look at this,” she said.
Deja swept the ground with light and then walked over.
The entire jar was filled with gold inscribed coins.
Alexandra reached in, pulled a handful out and handed them to Deja. “Those are gold,” she said. “Stick them in your pocket—wait, count them first.”
Five.
There were five.
Shiny.
Brand new.
Perfectly scribed with detailed markings.
Alexandra took five for herself and said, “That’s enough to retire on in comfort, right there.”
“There must be hundreds of them, just in this pot alone,” Deja said.
True.
“Three thousand, according to the inventory list. Before we do anything else, I want to take pictures of this place and get the scene documented,” Alexandra said.
SHE GOT HER CAMERA out of the backpack—a digital with a flash, not nearly as good as the situation deserved, but all she had—and took pictures, dozens of them, from all angles.
Deja watched for snakes.
“I had no idea how massive and heavy all this stuff was,” Alexandra said. “In hindsight, the father wouldn’t have been able to get it all here on his own, not without making a whole lot of trips. My guess is that the skeletons by the entrance are the men who were used to break into the pharaoh’s tomb in the first place. Then the guy used them to get all the stuff here. Then he killed them.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
“It would be one against six or seven,” Deja said.
“We’ll look at the bones later, maybe they’ll tell us something,” Alexandra said. “This guy was smart, I got to hand him that. Maybe he made a side deal with two of the guys, to give them the shares of whoever else they killed. Then the guy got behind them and stuck a knife in each one of their backs at the same time.”
Deja pictured it and shivered.
“All that killing so his son can have a nice afterlife,” she said. “Twisted thinking, don’t you think?”
Yes.
Very.
THE COFFIN WAS A PLAIN WOODEN BOX, but very large. Alexandra shined her light at the ground around it, saw no snakes and walked over. “If my hunch is right, this is just a shell. The real coffin’s inside. That’s where the golden mask is. Are you ready to find out?”