Serpent's Kiss

by Alex Archer

  “I’m tired of chasing monsters, Doug,” Annja said. “It gets in the way of archaeology.”

  “Not always.”

  “Most of the time.”

  “Everywhere we send you, you find time to archaeologize,” Doug said.

  “That’s not a word.” Annja felt good about having the upper hand for a change.

  “Whatever. The point is, I know we’ve sent you to places that you would never have been able to go. And while you were there you’ve always found really cool stuff. Admit it. You know it’s true,” Doug said.

  “Are you trying to play hardball with me?” Annja asked.

  Doug hesitated. “Yes. Is it working?”

  “No. I just wanted to make sure. I don’t hear you do that often. It’s kind of cute.”

  “Cute?” Doug spluttered in indignation.

  “Endearing?” Annja offered.

  “We need you on the show,” Doug said. “It isn’t just Kristie’s, um, assets that sell Chasing History’s Monsters.”

  Now, that was a pleasant surprise. Everybody she talked to felt that Kristie Chatham and her assets were the major attractions of the show.

  “Put that in writing,” Annja said.

  “What?”

  “What you just said. The asset thing. Put it in writing.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Am I? Television stars tend to make outrageous demands. I’m practicing.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding. I can’t do that.”

  “But you can kill me and put out a memorial DVD.”

  “Hey,” Doug said quickly, “I wasn’t the one who killed you.”

  “The memorial DVD was your idea,” Annja said.

  “Okay, before we get off track here, the whole problem was that memorial DVD. Once everybody found out you were still alive, the funding immediately got cut.”

  Annja was surprised. She hadn’t told anyone she was still alive who didn’t already know. “I told you keeping something like that secret was a mistake,” she said.

  “Yeah,” Doug said bitterly, “but no one expected you to be the one that blew the whistle.”

  “What are you talking about? No whistle-blowing here,” Annja said.

  “I’m not saying you did it, but it sure looks like you did it.”

  “What looks like I did it?”

  “The Internet footage.”

  “What Internet footage?” Annja asked.

  Doug gave her the address and she quickly entered it in her browser. Her computer only took a few seconds to cycle through and bring up the link.

  A window opened in the center of the screen. Words scrolled across as a clock ticked down.

  Annja Creed, star of Chasing History’s Monsters dealing martial-arts mayhem! See her deadly kung fu grip!

  The camera opened up on Jason in a hotel room. He was all smiles.

  “Hi. My name is Jason Kim. I’m an archaeology student from UCLA.” He grinned again. “I’m single but looking. I like music and long, slow kisses. You can find my e-mail here.” He pointed and his e-mail address suddenly appeared in front of him: onehotchickmagnet@yourdreams.org.

  Annja rolled her eyes.

  “Anyway, I’m presently in India on a dig for some really cool sacrificial victims,” Jason said. “I got to dig up some of the bodies. Way cool. Our camp got destroyed by a tsunami. Not so cool. A few people would have died, but Annja Creed, the archaeologist from Chasing History’s Monsters, saved them. Watching her do that was cool squared.”

  The scene changed and showed the speed boat the four would-be robbers had arrived in.

  “The next day, these guys came up and wanted to rob us. What you’re about to see is amazing. Annja Creed comes up out of the water—”

  A yellow line encircled Annja as she vaulted from the water.

  “—and proceeds to kick these guys’ butts!”

  On the screen, Annja defeated all four men again in rapid succession. The image froze on her as she pointed the pistol at the man’s head.

  “Her studio is telling everybody she’s dead,” Jason continued. “They’re even selling a bogus memorial DVD. Don’t fall for that. She’s still alive and is planning on trying to find a shipwreck she thinks these came from.”

  The view cut to the naga statues.

  “I’m going on the marine excavation,” Jason said as the camera panned back to him. “Professor Rai was looking for volunteers, so I volunteered. Hopefully I’ll have more news soon.”

  Annja leaned back in the seat. “I don’t see how this little bit of—”

  “CNN, Entertainment Tonight and Fox News all got hold of it,” Doug said.

  “Oh.”

  “Naturally, all those memorial DVDs we’ve been pressing aren’t going anywhere. The people who ordered them want their money back.”

  “I can understand that,” Annja said.

  “Marketing wants my head. Nobody wants to refund those orders. That’s gonna cost even more money just handling all the paperwork. We’re gonna blow budget really big for a few months.”

  Annja conceded that was a problem. That meant Chasing History’s Monsters wouldn’t be sending her anywhere exotic for a while.

  “Nice bikini, though,” Doug said.

  Annja smiled. “Thanks. It’s new.”

  “Very stylish.” Doug drew in a deep breath and let it out. “So you can see the position I’m in. The memorial DVD is dead in the water. If I have to go tell corporate you’re breaking your contract with us—Well, I don’t want to do that.”

  “Then don’t,” Annja said.

  “Huh? What happened to the whole strong-arm approach?”

  “I don’t need it. Someone else is going to finance the dig.” Annja left money for her meal, put her computer away, slipped her backpack over one shoulder and headed out into the street.

  “That’s great,” Doug said.

  It’s not going to be great when you realize I signed away rights to the dig, Annja thought. But she didn’t want to deal with that at the moment.

  Annja walked toward the docks. Sudden movement in the alley to her left drew her attention. When she glanced in that direction, she saw some familiar faces.

  All four of the men from the speedboat were in the alley. They’d brought four friends.

  “Doug,” Annja said calmly, “I’m going to have to call you back.”

  20

  Annja’s first impulse was to run. Her martial-arts training supported that course of action. When confronted with adversity, she’d been taught to seek out the path of least resistance.

  She shoved the cell phone into the backpack pocket and hitched the straps over her shoulders. She dashed along the street.

  A small sedan rocketed across the street, narrowly missed a woman with two small children and shrieked to a stop in front of Annja. She stopped only a few feet from the car and looked around.

  Three armed men with pistols got out of the car.

  Annja didn’t know if the men would actually shoot at her, but she couldn’t take the chance. There were too many citizens and tourists on the street including a lot of children.

  “Hey, lady.”

  Hands on the straps of her backpack, Annja turned to face the young man who had called out to her. His face still showed bruises from their earlier encounter.

  “The way I see it,” the young man said, “you are not leaving this place unless I give you permission.”

  “I see you brought friends,” Annja said. “That’s surprising.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I didn’t know you had any friends,” Annja said.

  The young man grinned, but the effort wasn’t as menacing as he’d intended because his lips were still swollen. “You think you are funny.”

  No, Annja thought, I was just trying to stall for time and hoping that some good Samaritan noticed my dilemma and called for the police.

  The man held out his hand. “Give me the backpack.”

  Annja lo
oked for an escape route but found she was ringed by the men.

  “Hurry,” the man ordered. “Give me the backpack and I’ll let you live.”

  “If you’re looking for those naga statues,” Annja said, certain she knew what the men were after, “I don’t have them anymore.”

  “You’re lying.”

  The man was right. She hadn’t yet handed the things over to the ASI. Professor Rai had arranged for an indefinite loan of the items while Annja completed her research.

  “You’re not getting the backpack,” Annja said.

  “That’s okay. I’m happy to take it from you.” The man reached into his pocket and pulled out a long-bladed knife. He stepped toward her.

  Annja stepped forward, seized the man’s right hand in her left to block any attempt he might make to break free and unleashed a right kick that had plenty of hip in it. The man raised his free hand to block the kick, but it had little effect.

  Annja’s foot drove the man’s hand into his face and knocked him to the ground. She held on to his hand long enough to strip the knife from it. Without hesitation, she tossed the knife out into the street.

  The men swarmed in at her like a pack of jackals, but in their eagerness to get to her they got in each other’s way.

  Annja reached into the otherwhere and gripped the sword’s hilt. When she pulled, it appeared in her hands. The sword was three feet of naked, unadorned steel. It was a warrior’s instrument.

  The sudden appearance of the sword made the men stop short. Their eyes widened as they realized their prey had gone from helpless to lioness.

  Strength and confidence poured into Annja as she took a two-handed grip on the sword. She didn’t want to kill anyone if she could help it. The police would frown on that and potentially delay the excavation. But more than that, she disliked killing unless there was nothing else she could do.

  The young men were thugs but they weren’t hardened killers. Annja had been in the company of both enough to know the difference.

  She stepped forward again and drove the sword’s hilt into the forehead of the man ahead of her. The man staggered. Annja whirled and delivered a back kick to his chest that hurled the unconscious man into the two men standing behind him. All three went down in a tangle of arms and legs.

  One of the men had a machete and brandished it with enthusiastic menace. Annja easily knocked the machete from his hands with her sword. Her next slash sliced through the loose folds of the man’s shirt. He looked down in shock, as if looking for his intestines to come tumbling out. He dropped to his knees and hugged the ground.

  Annja whirled again and kept track of her opponents the way she’d trained to do in the dojo. She caught another man’s temple with the flat of her blade hard enough to leave him disoriented. Still on the move, she rammed her left elbow back twice and hammered another man in the face. His nose broke and he fell backward.

  The forward momentum of her attackers was shattered. One of them lay prone on the ground. Another was still trying to get his breath back and a third couldn’t stand up straight.

  The remaining men chose that moment to run.

  Annja stood her ground and didn’t try to pursue. She was relieved the guns had been for show and that no one had started a wild shooting spree. As she glanced around, she realized the attack had attracted a crowd. She turned and headed for the docks. When she released the sword, it fell from her hand and faded into otherwhere.

  But the question remained as to who had sent the men. If they’d simply wanted revenge, they’d have taken the backpack as a matter of course after they’d beaten or killed her. They wouldn’t have asked for it first.

  She lengthened her stride and moved into a steady jog as she dodged traffic.

  “AHOY, MISS CREED.” Captain Shafiq stood on the deck of his boat and waved. His skin shone in the heat and perspiration dappled his gray shirt.

  “Captain.” Annja accepted the man’s hand as she stepped onto the Casablanca Moon. “Any problems getting the supplies?”

  “No, ma’am.” Shafiq shook his head. “Were you expecting a problem? Your friend’s money arrived in good order this morning.”

  “No problem there,” Annja said. “But there may be another situation.” She quickly told him about the attack.

  Shafiq frowned. “You say you don’t know these men?”

  “Only that they tried to rob the excavation site.”

  The big captain surveyed the docks with a wary eye. “Maybe they were after the figurines you recovered.”

  “Perhaps. If that’s true, this may not be the only time they try.”

  Shafiq nodded. “That would be their mistake. The men I have aboard this boat have fought for cargo before. If you make your living as a merchantman in these waters, you can bet you’ll have to deal with pirates at some point. We have.” He took a deep breath and let it out. “Most of them prey on the weak. We’re not weak.” He glanced at her. “Do you have reservations about this voyage?”

  “I do,” Annja admitted.

  “Are you thinking of calling it off?”

  “I’m not,” Annja replied. “But I wanted you to know what you were dealing with.”

  “We can take care of ourselves, Miss Creed.” Shafiq touched the brim of his hat. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to get this boat squared away.”

  AFTER SHE STOWED her gear in the small berth where she was staying with Professor Rai, Annja returned to the deck. She had limited experience aboard boats, but she had enough to help with storing provisions and some of the equipment.

  Shafiq protested her efforts, but Annja pointed out that it was too hot to stay belowdecks and she didn’t think wandering around town was a good idea. Reluctantly, Shafiq agreed and assigned her to assist one of the more experienced hands.

  While on the deck, she could also watch the docks for any sign of the young men. She felt good about the work. The heat baked into her and warmed her muscles.

  Lochata arrived only a short time later carrying several maps and books. Annja and the deckhand helped Lochata load her cargo onto the boat.

  “Nautical charts and books regarding the area,” Lochata said. “Perhaps we can use them to narrow down the search for your ship.”

  “It’s not my ship,” Annja said.

  “If we locate it, the ship will be named as your find.”

  “You’ve cleared up all the paperwork with the ASI?” Shafiq asked.

  Lochata nodded. “I had to call in some favors to push the paperwork through so quickly.” She rummaged in the large document bag she carried and pulled out a sheaf of papers. “You’ll find everything you need there that will answer any questions the coast guard or navy might have.”

  Annja took the papers and thumbed through them. “Good. I wouldn’t want them to arrest me as a thief.”

  “They won’t. Not with those papers. After I explained the circumstances of the tsunami and pointed out the fact that the sea could just as easily take back what she’d given—if she hasn’t all ready—they capitulated.” Lochata smiled. “It helps that they know they can trust me from previous dealings, and that you came forward with what you found. I don’t think that it hurt that your presence will guarantee television exposure of the event.”

  LESS THAN AN HOUR LATER, Annja stood in the stern as Shafiq gave orders to the helmsman to take the boat out into the harbor. She shaded her eyes as she raked the docks for anyone who might be overly interested in their departure.

  Now that they were under way, her perspiration-sodden clothing felt cool. She lifted the hair from the back of her neck and held it in one hand for a time to luxuriate in the breeze.

  Other than a few friendly waves and wishes for safety and luck, the Casablanca Moon drew only cursory attention. But Annja didn’t doubt for a moment that someone was out there watching. She could feel their gaze on her.

  STANDING ON THE VIBRATING dock in the shadow of a load of cargo stacked on pallets, James Fleet watched the Casablanca Moon move t
hrough the harbor. He held his binoculars at an angle so the sun wouldn’t catch the lenses. The dhow cut the water smoothly despite the equipment lashed to her stern decks.

  He focused on the woman standing there looking back. She was very beautiful. He’d seen her a few times on television, but that kind of programming had never really appealed to him. He’d preferred military history. Occasionally, he’d watched Chasing History’s Monsters when Annja Creed was focusing on the history and not some monster of the week.

  Fleet broke his gaze. Some people could feel when someone stared at them too hard or too long. Fleet had always been able to. Even the day he and his team had been ambushed, he’d known he’d drawn the attention of someone dangerous.

  Besides, he wasn’t looking for the woman. She was just the bait in the trap.

  After taking up a new position, Fleet turned his attention back to the docks. In less than a minute, he spotted Rajiv Shivaji standing in the prow of one of the small ships he owned.

  Only a moment after Fleet had focused on the man, Rajiv shifted uncomfortably and turned to look back along the docks, as well. Fleet turned away.

  Okay, you bloody sod, Fleet thought. You’re interested. What are you going to do about it?

  21

  “A ship doesn’t simply sink beneath the ocean when it goes down. A large part of what happens to a vessel beneath the waves depends on what caused it to sink.”

  Annja sat in the small ship’s galley and listened to Lochata speak in the calm, measured voice that she doubtless used in the classroom. Her tone was almost soothing, but Annja concentrated intently on what was being said.

  Captain Shafiq and the four men who’d been hired to assist in the diving crowded the table, as well. All of the local divers were young and fit. Two were Indian, one was Nigerian and the fourth was German. They all spoke English and had worked dives before. Some of them, Shafiq had acknowledged, weren’t necessarily for archaeological purposes. But he’d promised they were all trustworthy.

  “Are you familiar with Muckelroy’s model?” Lochata asked. Her gaze lingered on the four young divers.