Into The Jaws Of The Lion (The Arkana Archaeology Mystery Series Book 5)

by N. S. Wikarski

  “Great. I get to play bloodhound for a day,” Cassie said ruefully.

  “Just be happy we’re not putting you on a leash,” Erik joked.

  ***

  The sun was hovering low in the sky when the dejected trio dragged themselves back up the path leading to the guest house. They had covered every street on the citadel mound and in the lower town. They had peered into every dwelling, stared down every drain and leaned over every well without finding a single clue. Now footsore, sunburned, and dehydrated, they were even too tired to converse, each one sunk into private thought.

  Unexpectedly, a ringing sound interrupted their collective stupor.

  “Where’s that coming from?” Cassie asked, startled.

  Erik reached into his pocket to check his phone. “It’s not me,” he protested. “I didn’t even think we could get a signal out here.”

  “What on earth.” Griffin was staring at his cell phone in wonder. “Hello?”

  There was a long silence while the Scrivener listened to the voice on the other end of the line. Then a smile gradually spread across his face.

  Erik and Cassie traded quizzical glances.

  Griffin continued to listen. “That’s brilliant! Thank you. We can still catch the afternoon flight back to Karachi and fly out tomorrow to meet with you. I’ll ring you again as soon as our travel plans have been sorted out.”

  He ended the call and regarded his teammates with a look of triumph. “My friends, our run of bad luck appears to be at an end.”

  Chapter 16—The Benefit Of A Doubt

  Cassie tiptoed down the hotel corridor. It was late and she didn’t want to disturb anyone. After Griffin’s surprise phone call, they’d made a mad dash to get back to Karachi for the night. They needed to catch an early morning flight to meet a trove-keeper in Kochi which was at the southern tip of India. Griffin, as usual, had been stingy with the details. He said he didn’t want to get their hopes up prematurely. Cassie knew it was pointless to try to pry information out of him until he was ready to reveal it. She checked her wristwatch—11 PM already. She hoped he wasn’t asleep. She tapped gently on the door.

  “Just a moment,” came the muffled response from the other side. When Griffin swung the door open, a look of alarm crossed his face.

  “Sorry to bother you,” Cassie said in a low voice.

  The Scrivener’s expression didn’t change. “Is everything alright?”

  The Pythia drew back, realizing how much her unexpected appearance had worried him. “Fine, everything’s fine. I just wanted to... um... talk to you about something.”

  “Please, come in. I was just repacking my suitcase.” He stood aside to let her pass but she hung back.

  Glancing furtively down the hotel corridor, she said, “Not here. Let’s go down to the lounge. I think it’s still open.”

  “As you wish.” Griffin hastily pocketed his room key and followed her lead.

  They rode the elevator down to the lobby in silence. In the lounge a few other groups were seated at tables and at the bar, presumably enjoying a nightcap before retiring. The room was dimly lit by candles on each table. Cassie immediately headed for the table farthest from the entrance. She positioned herself so she could watch anyone entering the bar.

  Griffin took the seat opposite, a concerned expression never leaving his face. “Are you sure you’re alright?” he persisted.

  She gave a weak smile. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. I just wanted to talk here because there’s less danger of us being overheard by Erik.”

  “Erik?” Griffin leaned forward over the table, scowling. “What’s he done to you?”

  “Nothing, nothing at all.” She shifted her focus to a waiter standing a few tables away. “Do you think they serve hot chocolate in a place like this?”

  “I’m sure it can be arranged.” Griffin motioned for the waiter and ordered two cups of cocoa.

  Cassie relaxed slightly. “Erik didn’t do anything wrong but I was wondering...” She paused again. “Does he seem different to you lately?”

  “Different?” The Scrivener echoed in puzzlement. “In what way?”

  Cassie propped her elbows on the table and tipped her head to the side, considering how to answer the question. “I feel like he’s pulling away from me. I mean, he can be kind of moody but this is different. It’s like a part of him has gone MIA.”

  “MIA?” Griffin repeated.

  Cassie dipped her hand into a small bowl of pretzels which had been left on the table. “MIA means missing in action,” she said, crunching on the snack.

  “When did you first notice this strange behavior on Erik’s part?”

  “It’s been building ever since we got to India but I really felt a difference today.”

  The Scrivener helped himself to a few pretzels as well. “What happened today?”

  “It wasn’t anything that happened but I think something I said might have set him off. Remember when we walked on ahead because you wanted to take a closer look at the ruin that was called the Grand Bazaar?”

  Griffin merely nodded.

  Cassie continued. “I can’t remember exactly what we were talking about but I joked, ‘Can you see us doing this when we’re in our forties? The Pythia and her middle-aged sidekick crawling around sand traps in the desert.’ I saw a strange look cross his face just for a second and then it was gone. He shrugged off the comment but I noticed that he got really quiet for the rest of the day.”

  “I can’t imagine that Erik would be petty enough to resent you calling him your sidekick,” the Scrivener observed.

  “Neither can I,” Cassie agreed. “Whenever I tick him off, he’s not shy about telling me so.”

  The waiter arrived with their order. They suspended their conversation long enough to take tentative sips of their scalding beverages.

  “Now that you mention it, he does seem more subdued than usual,” Griffin agreed. He hesitated before continuing. “I’m loath to ask something this personal but is your romance... er, on track?”

  Cassie giggled at his choice of words. “I’m not sure I’d call it a romance. We’re just friends with benefits, if that’s what you mean.”

  “And are the benefits still...um...satisfactory?” Griffin blushed to the roots of his hair.

  The Pythia chose to gloss over his embarrassment. “When we get together, everything’s fine but he has been spending more nights by himself the last couple of weeks.”

  “I see.”

  Cassie noticed Griffin’s jaw muscles tighten. She pounced. “What is it? You know something and you’re not telling me.”

  “I don’t know anything,” the Scrivener protested too quickly.

  “Yes, you do,” Cassie persisted. “I need you to tell me what you know. Griffin, we’re friends. That means we’re supposed to look out for each other.”

  The Scrivener gave a short, bitter laugh. “If I’d truly been looking after your best interests, I would have discouraged you from forming an attachment to Erik in the first place.”

  Cassie drew back, stunned. “What do you mean?”

  Griffin refused to meet her gaze. “I mean he has a reputation as a ladies’ man.”

  “So you’re saying he’s a player? Well, that’s not a complete surprise. He’s got a girl in every port.” She paused to consider. “If you thought he might treat me like just another fling, why didn’t you warn me?”

  “Because I thought it would be different with you.” Griffin raised his eyes to meet hers. “Cassie, you’re a remarkable person. I’ve never met anyone like you.” He stopped abruptly, growing flustered. “That is... um... You’re the Pythia. That makes you different. I dare say, it makes you better. I thought Erik would see that too.” Half to himself he muttered, “Clearly, I gave the stupid prat too much credit!”

  “Whoa! Ease up on the throttle, Ace.” She felt shocked by his hostile comment. In an effort to smooth things over, she added, “Just keep in mind that we might both be overreacting. M
aybe something else is eating at him.”

  “Yes, of course. I’m sure you’re right.” Griffin hastily agreed, recovering his composure. “I could be imputing motives to him that are entirely without basis.”

  “Yeah, it has to be something else,” Cassie agreed half-heartedly.

  They stared at one another bleakly in silence for a few moments.

  “So how do we find out what’s really bothering him?” she ventured.

  “I don’t think we can without arousing his suspicions.” Griffin sighed. “If we begin to ask pointed questions, he’s sure to become even more reticent than he already is.”

  “Then all we can do is wait for the other shoe to drop,” the Pythia observed glumly.

  “I’m afraid so,” the Scrivener concurred.

  “You know, when I signed on with the Arkana, it never occurred to me that my biggest problem would be boys. Religious fanatics, smugglers, teenage runaways, cowboys with guns. Those I can handle. But boys?” She threw her hands up helplessly.

  Griffin chuckled in spite of himself before adding gently, “Drink up. We have an early flight tomorrow.”

  “You’re right. We both need to get some sleep.” Cassie tried to sound cheerful. “Maybe things will look different in the morning.”

  “Perhaps,” the Scrivener said, raising his cup to his lips.

  Cassie noticed the expression on his face. He really didn’t believe things would look better in the morning. With a sense of foreboding, she realized she didn’t believe it either.

  Chapter 17—Hunt For Prey

  Leroy Hunt sat in his rental car camped out across the street from his quarry. He trained his binoculars on the house address and checked it against the note he’d received from the moving company lady. He had to play this just right. He didn’t want to go storming in like gangbusters until he was sure both Miz Rhonda and little Hannah were at home.

  The house itself was a bungalow. Nothing special about it but that was probably the point. If folks were trying to keep a low profile, a bungalow in the middle of the old section of Phoenix surrounded by a bunch of other ugly houses was the place to hole up.

  Hunt noticed the curtains move in the living room window. Somebody was stirring around inside. A few minutes later, he saw an old lady open the screen door and come out to retrieve a newspaper from the front porch steps. She straightened up and looked around vaguely before going back inside. Leroy didn’t recognize her. Maybe she was the housekeeper. He decided to hold off and keep an eye on things for a couple of hours.

  ***

  Two days later, Leroy was still keeping an eye on things. He had switched rental cars and varied his parking spot so nobody would get too suspicious. He needn’t have bothered. The people in this neighborhood were the least curious bunch he’d ever come across. They just went about their lawn-sprinkling, newspaper-fetching, dog-walking routines and never bothered to cast an eye in his direction.

  The house he’d been watching followed its routine too. The old lady went grocery shopping, came home and shut the door. She didn’t go out in the evenings and nobody came to call. Unless she had two hostages tied up in the basement, Leroy was pretty sure neither of the fugitives he was tailing were anywhere around.

  Boredom finally made him desperate enough to take direct action. That and the daily phone calls from the preacher demanding to know if Hunt had got hold of the old man’s beloved yet. The cowboy decided it would be a wise policy going forward to tell the Diviner as little as possible about his progress. Old Abe was wound up tighter than catgut on a cheap fiddle at the thought that his blushing bride might soon be under his thumb again.

  Leroy climbed out of his car, straightened the bow in his string tie and crossed the street. He knocked gently on the bungalow door.

  The old lady answered. At first he thought she was standing in a hole because she was so short. She craned her neck up to peer at him through coke-bottle glasses. “Yes?” she quavered.

  Hunt removed his hat. “Howdie, ma’am. I don’t mean to trouble you but I’m tryin’ to find some friends of mine who left Chicago and moved out this way. A lady and her daughter. Name of Rhonda and the gal’s name is Hannah. They left this address but I ain’t seen either one in the neighborhood. Can you tell me where I might find ‘em?”

  “Oh, yes, I know about them.” The old lady nodded. “They were the tenants before I moved here.”

  “Ma’am?”

  “You see, I only came to this neighborhood about a month ago. I met that woman, Rhonda, as she was packing to move out. It seems she was called away on business overseas and so she sent her daughter to live with family while she was gone.”

  “Then the gal is still in Phoenix?” Leroy asked cautiously, trying not to sound too eager.

  “No, she’s somewhere down east, I believe. Just a moment.” The old woman left him standing on the porch while she shuffled back inside.

  Hunt tapped his toe impatiently, mulling over this strange turn of events. Why would they go to all the trouble of setting up here only to part ways? Did they know they were being followed? Maybe he’d been a little too obvious in his inquiries and somebody had tipped them off.

  The woman returned and held out a scrap of paper to him. An address was scrawled on it. “Your friend Rhonda asked me to forward any stray mail or packages to this address,” she explained. “That’s where her daughter is staying with her aunt and uncle.”

  Hunt looked down ruefully at the lettering. The address was somewhere in Maine. If he’d known he was going to crisscross the country like this, he would have put in for frequent flyer miles.

  He handed the note back but the woman stopped him. “You can keep that. I made a copy.”

  The cowboy tipped his hat before putting it back on. “Thank you kindly, ma’am. Have a nice day.”

  “Yes, goodbye.” She closed the door behind him.

  As Hunt walked slowly down the stairs pondering this new information, he registered something out of the corner of his eye. It was a “For Rent” sign lying flat on the grass. He hadn’t seen it before because it was right next to the foundation. He noticed that there were fresh holes in the turf where the sign had been uprooted.

  He didn’t want to go over for a closer look in case the woman was watching him from the window but something about that sign was fishy. If the place had been occupied for the past few months, why would the sign still be there? Why would it look like it had just been pulled up a few days before? He irritably dismissed that line of inquiry for the time being. He already had enough questions buzzing around inside his head.

  Hunt climbed into his car and sat motionless behind the wheel, ruminating over the facts the old lady had given him. He couldn’t quite get a handle on what was happening—not just today but right from the beginning when he first started tailing little Hannah. A couple days after the gal showed up at Miss Cassie’s apartment, a moving truck whisked them away to parts unknown. Then, the minute Leroy got too curious about the goings on in the antique shop, Miz Rhonda got whisked away too. And now, just when he thought he’d got both Miz Rhonda and little Hannah cornered in Phoenix, they disappeared again. It was all connected somehow. Miss Cassie and her merry band of thieves. Little Hannah. Miz Rhonda. Somebody was the mastermind behind all those disappearances and that Somebody was always one step ahead of him. How could that happen?

  Leroy felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. The only possible explanation was that he was being watched. All his life, he’d been the hunter, not the prey. This arrangement was downright unnatural. He switched his attention from his injured feelings to how his invisible foe had accomplished such a trick. His phone must be tapped. That meant every time he called in a status report to Abe, Somebody knew where he was headed next.

  If he called Abe today to tell him he was on his way to Maine, Somebody would whisk Hannah away before he got there. He needed to think of a better plan. He’d call Abe and fob him off with a story about checking out some other
leads. Then when nobody was looking he would double back to the moving company and ask a few more questions about who paid for the move. That intel might bring him one step closer to the Somebody who was behind all this.

  It occurred to him that he’d have to get a burner phone if he didn’t want all his calls monitored. He could use his regular cell to feed Abe the info he wanted Somebody to hear and keep the rest of his investigation private. Empathy wasn’t in Leroy’s nature but, for a split second, he knew what it felt like to be the target instead of the hunter. He didn’t like the sensation at all. He needed to restore the natural order of things—pronto.

  Chapter 18— Right Of Passage

  Zach turned his car into the tree-lined glade, his muffler growling all the way. He’d just driven through a bone-rattling stretch of dirt road and was amazed his tailpipe hadn’t fallen off. He checked the directions his grandmother had given him. In disbelief, he realized that this old white schoolhouse out in the middle of nowhere was the right place. It didn’t seem all that special as far as secret headquarters went. He’d been envisioning something more impressive—a glass tower, a geodesic dome, a steel bunker. As the boy got out of his car, the driver’s side door squeaked in protest on its rusty hinges. He sighed in exasperation. He’d need to scrape up more money for repairs.

  Taking a furtive look around him, he wondered if he was being watched. His jalopy had made enough noise to wake the dead but nothing stirred in this clearing. It was completely quiet. No cars, no people. He crossed the lawn and jogged up the stairs to the entry. Just as he was about to turn the knob, the door swung open and a very large woman blocked his path. A woman with olive skin, frizzy red hair and scarlet nails that looked like they could rip his throat out. She was dressed in a fake leopard skin jacket and jeans. Bracelets made a jangling sound on her wrists as she parked her hands on her hips and stared him down.