The Goddess Legacy

by Russell Blake

  “Of course not. It will be a treat. But perhaps the most important question: would you prefer French, Italian, or traditional Indian?”

  “Whatever you like. It all sounds wonderful.”

  “Well, I’ll do my best. Hopefully it won’t disappoint. And then we can take a look at your find. Quite exciting.”

  Sharma hung up and looked at the pile of reports in front of him. He would come in early the next morning to catch up. Tonight he would see an artifact, which, if genuine, was a piece of history that had been lost for centuries. He lived for these moments and thanked Providence for whatever force had led the Americans to him.

  He stood and stretched a kink out of his neck, and grazed the table with his prosthetic device – the intrusive clamp that acted as his pair of metal fingers. A childhood accident had robbed him of his hand, but he’d grown so used to the device he rarely thought of it and had adapted to the challenges his disability posed with the stoic acceptance with which he approached most things.

  “Really most remarkable,” he muttered as he loaded his briefcase with paperwork. His assistant was still hard at it, seated at her small desk in the outer office. He emerged from his inner chamber and nodded to her as he walked by. “Good night, Divya. Remember to shut off the lights when you’re done.”

  “Of course, Professor. Shouldn’t be too much longer.”

  Sharma stepped through the door and hurried down the hall, his footsteps reverberating like gunshots in the largely empty building. Divya looked pensively at the door and then returned to her project, the long hours she routinely invested in her doctoral thesis just one more of the overwhelming challenges that faced a woman trying to make it in a man’s world.

  Chapter 28

  The taxi ride south took thirty minutes, and as they neared the golf course, the streets became cleaner, the cars newer, the buildings more modern. They’d agreed that Spencer would wait for them outside the professor’s house, it being too much of a risk to introduce him.

  They’d skipped dinner at the curry place, but Spencer, whose appetite had recovered from the stress of the prior days, had made up for their picking at their order and eaten most of what was brought.

  “I wish I had something else to wear. I feel like a bum and smell like a vagrant,” Drake complained from the front seat as they rumbled along the boulevard.

  “Glad you’re sitting up there,” Spencer joked from the rear seat. Allie sat on the far side, her bag between them.

  “You can’t be much fresher,” Drake quipped.

  “That’s not what Sachita said.”

  “Sachita?”

  “The waitress at the café. She made it clear that she’d be available to show me the sights if I was interested, even though she now thinks I’m a dope fiend.”

  Allie laughed. “She seemed like she had one main attraction in mind. You might want to take her up on that.”

  “Business before pleasure. But it’s nice to know a girl’s not after your money.”

  “Did you get her number?” Allie asked.

  “A gentleman never tells.”

  “Right. But I was asking you.”

  “Hell yeah.”

  “Next it’ll be trolling schoolyards,” Drake said.

  “She’s twenty-six.”

  “You’re practically twins!” Allie exclaimed.

  The driver turned off the main street and they found themselves on a quiet lane lined by trees in front of majestic colonial homes.

  “Wow. The professor must have stored some nuts for the winter,” Spencer said. “Is this an exclusive area?” he asked the driver.

  “Oh, yes. One of the most expensive. Very nice and quite safe. The neighborhoods have private police departments in addition to the city’s force. Many dignitaries and executives live here.”

  A few minutes later they pulled to a stop in front of a rambling two-story house the size of a small hotel. Spencer paid the driver and they got out of the car and waited until it had pulled away before approaching the drive.

  “Are you going to be all right out here?” Allie asked.

  “I won’t freeze, if that’s what you mean,” Spencer replied. “Go have a nice dinner. I’ll hang out with the junkyard dogs and the snakes. Maybe I can make friends with a stray cobra or something.”

  “Worked for you at the café – maybe today’s your lucky day,” Drake said.

  Allie handed Spencer her bag. “You can use my tablet if you can get a wireless signal.”

  He gave her a dark look. “Failing that, I can use it to compose my confession.”

  Drake and Allie pushed open the black wrought-iron gate. Halfway down the long walkway they looked back at Spencer, who had melted into the shadows. There was no one else on the street, and their footfalls on the tiled approach were the only sound, the incessant honking of the city replaced by tranquil serenity.

  As they neared the house, they could see that it was in a state of disrepair: the paint was peeling in spots, and a drain separated from the gutter along the roofline was jutting off into space. When they stepped onto the porch, the impression was reinforced by the door, which was badly in need of varnish, its ornate handle corroded.

  Drake knocked and was surprised when the door creaked open on rusting hinges. Inside the house the lights were blazing, and Allie called out from the entrance, “Professor? We’re here.”

  Silence greeted them. Drake frowned at Allie. “That’s weird.”

  “He’s probably in the kitchen and can’t hear us.”

  “Right. Which is why he left the door open.”

  “Professor?” Allie tried again. “It’s Allie and Drake.”

  A muffled voice answered from the depths of the house. “Back here.”

  Allie led the way, and Drake closed the door behind them. “Professor? Where are you?” she called, and nodded when she heard the clatter of silverware on china. “I told you,” she said to Drake. “He’s probably scrambling to get ready. I feel so bad–”

  She froze in her tracks when she entered the formal dining room, the chandelier’s facets glittering overhead like diamonds, and gasped at the sight of the professor seated at the head of a long dining table, a puzzled expression on his face and his eyes wide in surprise.

  He pitched face forward onto the table and Allie screamed when she spotted the handle of a butcher knife protruding from between his shoulder blades.

  Drake stood motionless, mouth agape, and then a figure stepped from behind the china cabinet, a 9mm semiautomatic pistol trained on them.

  “I’m so glad you could make it,” Oliver Helms said. “I’m afraid the professor’s not very receptive to visitors, though.”

  “You murdered him,” Allie whispered.

  “In the absence of an afterlife, it would appear so…”

  “Why?” Drake demanded.

  “I’m flattered by your interest in my motives. It’s quite simple, really. I was looking for our mutual acquaintance Mr. Singh – he took possession of an item that was stolen from someone important, and arranged to sell it to a fortune hunter – who, as you know, lost his head in all the excitement. Then you came along, and I guessed you might be colleagues of the unfortunate chap. So I followed you. You led me to the professor, and, well, after you lost me at the fort, I decided to return to the only viable lead I had. He was kind enough to confide in me that you had a dinner date and told me all about the dagger, so there was really no reason to allow him to live.”

  “You’re a monster,” Allie blurted.

  “Strong words from a member of the weaker sex, but women are inherently more hysterical about things than men.” He smiled again, and the effect was chilling. “I see you have the dagger in your handbag.”

  “Who did Singh steal it from?”

  “That’s not important. What you should be concerned with is cooperating with me so that you don’t meet the same fate as the professor.”

  Drake shook h
is head. “This is all about some stupid hunk of metal?”

  “Stupid to you it may be, but I can assure you it’s of indescribable value to others. Which brings us to the part of the evening where I shoot you in the stomach and let you bleed to death if you don’t hand it over.”

  “Do you have any idea who we are?” Allie asked, holding his stare.

  “Two candidates for the morgue, if you test me.”

  “You really don’t, do you?” she continued. “Didn’t do your research, did you?”

  His eyes narrowed and he shifted the gun to cover Drake. “Enough of this insipid intrigue. If you don’t give me the dagger, I’ll shoot your friend here. Stomach wounds are excruciatingly painful, and it can take hours to die. Sometimes days, as the intestinal tract poisons the blood. Makes an awful mess – wouldn’t wish it on anyone.”

  “My name’s Allie Brody. This is Drake Ramsey. We’re treasure hunters. Our South American find made us rich – rich enough to pay you triple whatever you’re being paid to do this.”

  “Really?” Helms said thoughtfully. “What a delightful offer. I am being paid rather handsomely, though.”

  “Bet it’s a joke compared to what we could offer,” Drake said.

  “A quarter of a million euro is verging on serious,” Helms said, his mouth a thin line.

  “Chump change,” Allie said with a nod. “We’ll up it to an even million.”

  “You will? And how do I know you’ll pay me?”

  “You can hold us hostage until we do.”

  Helms was silent for a long moment. “That’s awfully tempting, but…”

  “Make it a million apiece. Two million, paid wherever you want,” Drake said.

  “That’s quite an amount. It appears I might have been underestimating the market value of my services.” He paused. “Then again, I’d never live to spend it, so it wouldn’t do me much good.”

  “You don’t have to do this. You can take the dagger back. Get paid by whoever it was stolen from for doing so. And get paid a king’s ransom for not killing us. I’ll bet a guy could have a nice life with over two million in the bank here.”

  Helms nodded slowly. “An intriguing proposition. Hand over the dagger while I consider it. Two million. Intriguing indeed…”

  Allie’s gaze moved to just beyond Helms’s shoulder. “We need an agreement before I do.”

  “Surely you realize, young lady, that’s the oldest trick in the book. Pretending someone’s behind a gunman to distract them. Enough of your mischief. Hand it over, or I’ll–”

  An ivory tusk crashed against the back of Helms’s head, and he tumbled forward. His pistol fired once as his fingers clutched reflexively, but the bullet sank harmlessly into the wall behind Drake and Allie.

  Spencer stared at the motionless Englishman and shook his head. “Should have taken the two mil,” he said. He stooped to feel Helms’s pulse and detected a weak throb. Scooping up the gun, he flipped on the safety and slid it into his waistband at the small of his back.

  “Is he alive?” Drake asked.

  “Barely.”

  “He killed the professor.”

  “I heard.”

  “How did you…?” Allie asked.

  “You have a lovely screaming voice. Piercing.” He took a final glance at Helms and then cocked his head. “We need to get moving. The gunshot will draw the cops pretty quickly.”

  “Don’t you think we’ll sort of stick out, running down the street?”

  “Who said anything about running? I got in through the garage. There’s a car in there.” He hesitated. “Did you touch anything in the house?”

  “Just the front door handle.”

  “Let’s wipe it down just to be safe.” He headed back to the entry, opened the door, and rubbed the handles on both sides with his shirt while Drake and Allie watched. When he was done, he pushed it closed with his foot. “That should do it.”

  Spencer led them through the house to the garage, where a fifteen-year-old black BMW sedan in mint condition sat with a thin film of grime on it. “How are we going to get it started? Can you hot-wire it?” Allie asked.

  Spencer held up a set of keys. “I could, but I figured these would be better. They were on a hook by the garage door. Snagged ’em on the way in.”

  They climbed into the car, and the engine cranked over with a throaty growl. Spencer depressed a garage door remote attached to the sun visor and the door raised behind them. He reversed quickly and then reclosed the door.

  “What about the gate?” Drake asked.

  Spencer tried the other buttons and the gate slowly swung inward. He lowered his window while they waited and glanced at the gas gauge. “Sirens. This could be close. Let’s hope I can figure out how to drive on the wrong side of the road.”

  “We can’t use the car for long, Spencer. They’ll put out a bulletin for it.”

  “I know. But I bet if we leave it with the keys in it, things will take care of themselves.”

  Spencer pulled out of the driveway and pressed down on the accelerator. The big engine responded instantly, surging ahead. At the next street he made a hard right and called out to Allie. “You got a map on your phone? I have a feeling there are a lot of dead ends in this neighborhood.”

  She withdrew her cell from her purse and pulled up an image with GPS coordinates. Seconds passed as it acquired a fix, and then she leaned forward. “Fifty yards, make a left, then at the next street, a right, and that should let us out on a main avenue.”

  “And from there?” Drake asked.

  “From there, we find the first area with taxis and dump this with the engine running,” Spencer said, and sped toward the next turn, the high wail of sirens receding as they distanced themselves from the professor’s house.

  Chapter 29

  Ten minutes later Spencer left the car in the driveway of an electronics emporium with the keys in the ignition and the window down. He wiped the steering wheel, shifter, and door handles. There were still thousands of people on the street, so they had no problem blending into the pedestrian traffic as Allie checked her phone for possible hotels near the train stations. One, named after a popular American rock starlet, drew a smirk from Drake.

  “That sounds perfect. A budget hotel with diva pretensions,” he said.

  “There are a bunch more around there if we run into a problem,” Allie said, studying her phone map.

  “So now all we have to do is cross town, and we’re home free.”

  They continued walking, the balmy night soothing their nerves, and stopped outside of a nightclub that was just getting warmed up. After a short wait a taxi dropped off a couple, and they snagged it and gave the driver the name and address of the hotel. He twisted to look at Allie and scowled. “Are you sure? Not a very nice place. There are many better for the same price.”

  “Near that one?”

  “Oh, yes, I know of several you would prefer, if you saw the one…in question.”

  “Fair enough. Take us to the least expensive.”

  The establishment recommended by the driver turned out to be one slim level better than a barn, but in its favor, the reception clerk didn’t ask for anything but money when Spencer and Allie checked in. Drake waited a half hour and then entered and rented a room, receiving the identical lack of scrutiny, and used Spencer’s cell to call Allie once he was in his room.

  “We’re in 211,” she said. “Door’s open.”

  When he arrived, Allie was seated on the bed with her tablet and Spencer was watching the television news, waiting to see whether the professor’s murder would be reported. Allie looked up when Drake locked the door behind him and stared at the two beds. “I figured you and I could swap since this one has twins,” she said.

  Any vision of Allie’s naked form next to him evaporated as Drake nodded. “Good idea.”

  “You think Helms will live?” Allie asked Spencer.

  “Maybe. I conked h
im pretty good, but his heart was still beating. The cops will deal with him – the murder weapon has his prints all over it, and he’s at the scene of the crime, so it should be open and shut.”

  “They’ll probably want to know who hit him.”

  “Any story he tells will be presumed to be a lie, judging by the way I was treated,” Spencer said.

  “Still, it’s a fair question.”

  “They might just assume that the professor did it as he was dying,” Drake said hopefully.

  “Either way, it’s not likely that they spring into action looking for anyone else with him caught red-handed,” Spencer said.

  “I wonder who he was working for,” Allie said. “He said ‘powerful interest,’ or something like that.”

  “Which tells us why Indiana was scared witless,” observed Drake.

  Spencer nodded. “Apparently whoever used to have it will do anything to get it back.”

  “I’ve got photos of the flip side now, so it doesn’t matter. We don’t need the dagger anymore – which raises another obvious problem: we need to find someone who can translate the remainder of the script,” Allie said.

  “Which puts us back at square one.”

  Allie raised an eyebrow. “Maybe, maybe not. I have an idea, but it will have to wait until tomorrow.”

  “What is it?” Drake asked.

  Spencer shushed them and turned up the volume on the news. An earnest woman was staring at the camera with a troubled expression, speaking in English.

  “Hours earlier, a gunshot drew the police to a privileged enclave in one of New Delhi’s most expensive areas, where the body of Dr. Rakesh Sharma was found, murdered. Details are few at the moment, but our sources tell us that the police are actively pursuing leads to find the killer. Anyone with information is urged to call the hotline number on the screen. All tips will be kept confidential.”

  Drake and Allie shook their heads. Spencer frowned. “Unbelievable,” he said.

  “Maybe they haven’t told the reporters everything yet?” Allie ventured.

  “Or he somehow got out before they showed up,” Drake said.