Maxwell’s Silver Hammer

by Ciana Stone

  “Of course. Now I must ring off. I have a busy day lined up. Do try to enjoy your holiday, Helen.”

  “Thank you, Mark. I don’t know what I would do without you. Sometimes I wonder…”

  “As do I, Helen. Goodbye.”

  Mark set the phone aside and grinned happily. Richard would get a less-than-warm reception when he arrived in France, which was just fine. The more Helen grew to hate him the better it was for Mark’s overall plan.

  Satisfied that he had taken another progressive step toward the actualization of his goals, Mark turned off the television and left his apartment. He had other fish to fry.

  —

  Richard stopped in the foyer in front of Nikki. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call. I’ve instructed Osgood to give you my private number. I’m available anytime.”

  “Thank you.” She forced a smile. “Have a wonderful holiday.”

  Richard nodded and reached out to grasp her hand. “Are you sure everything is all right, Nikki?”

  “Positive.” The sooner he left the better. She’d had all she could take of him. If she had to endure one more lunch or dinner, one more attempt on his part to buy her attention with expensive gifts or one more incident of him treating Maxwell like an animal, she’d explode.

  “All right. I’ll talk to you soon.”

  She nodded and stepped away. He released her hand as if reluctant to do so then turned and walked out. Nikki let out her breath. Thank god!

  After the disaster the night Maxwell was caught spying from behind the bar, things had taken on a nightmarish quality. Every time she saw Maxwell he was either a zombie, incapable of even focusing his eyes, or was completely enraged and violent, which led to him being drugged again.

  She tried suggesting to Mr. Weston that the drugs weren’t necessary but he passed it off, more interested in his pursuit of her than his son.

  Richard Weston made her sick. She couldn’t believe that he’d give orders to have Maxwell drugged then turn around and try to put the move on her. It was all she could do to stay out of reach and not tell him how repulsive he was to her.

  She was a little sick of herself. She wasn’t proud of the fact that she was remaining silent about Mr. Weston’s behavior toward her or Maxwell, just for money, or the fact that she had taken the job in the hopes of searching the estate and stealing something from them if she discovered it. She’d just about decided that even if the Westons were connected to Christian’s death, there was no way she would ever be able to prove it.

  Maybe that was just a defeatist attitude. Maybe it was cowardly. Maybe she was just thinking of herself and her own safety and security. No matter what option she chose, it didn’t make her proud of herself.

  She tried to justify it by telling herself she didn’t have a choice anymore. If she lost the job she had nowhere to go and no money. In terms of the artifact, she could only justify it to herself with the excuse that such objects should be made available to all branches of science to study and not hoarded by one individual for selfish goals.

  In terms of Maxwell and the duty she’d sworn to uphold to Danu, well, that was a sticky wicket any way you looked at it. It was clear that Maxwell was under heavy control, but not in danger of losing his life. And besides, maybe she’d imagined Danu the same way she’d dreamed up Max. And look how the reality of that had turned out. Certainly nothing like her dreams. Maybe Danu was just a figment of her overactive imagination.

  Still, her excuses were just that—excuses. She wasn’t very happy with herself. But at least Richard was gone. Now all she had to do was figure out where to look for a hidden artifact, a way to make it through the summer without setting Maxwell off again, and get her reactions toward him under control. Suddenly the challenges seemed a lot bigger than they had a week ago.

  Chapter Four

  At the sound of footsteps, Nikki turned. Max stopped just inside the door to the billiard room. A sense of dread swept over her. What would it be this time? More throwing and breaking things, or perhaps the ever-popular temper tantrum in which people either scampered to get out of his way or got run over?

  She couldn’t decide who she was more disgusted with—herself or Maxwell. Him, she could excuse, she supposed. After all, everyone said he was messed up. As for herself, maybe she was in the same boat. It was unthinkable that she could find him so appealing and yet so horrid.

  She’d hoped that things would improve once Mr. Weston left. That hadn’t panned out. In fact she felt like she had taken steps backward instead of forward. Just when it would seem that Maxwell was leveling out, she’d allow herself to look at him and she’d be captive to forbidden desires, completely enchanted and wanting desperately to see some sign that he was not a hopeless case. Unfortunately, it seemed that each time such a moment occurred he ran away and the next time she’d see him would be to witness, or be the victim of, one of his acts of lunacy.

  It was wearing her out, mentally and emotionally. At the moment she didn’t have the energy to go through another episode, so she ignored him and continued with her solitary game.

  The fact of the matter was she’d just about had her fill of Maxwell and everyone else in the mansion. She had plenty of time to work on her thesis, but aside from that the only thing she had to occupy herself with was the mystery of Maxwell and that was beginning to look like a puzzle she’d never unravel.

  It didn’t help matters that she was uncomfortable whenever she was outside of her room. She felt like she was constantly being watched, which made taking advantage of any of the facilities on the estate less than appealing.

  Her search for the elusive Stone had proven very unsuccessful. She’d scoured nearly every room in the enormous mansion except for Simon Weston’s floor, and had found nothing to indicate a hidden safe or hiding space. Having no phone number for Gaspar, she couldn’t contact him for suggestions, so that particular quest seemed to have reached a dead end.

  If it wasn’t for the promise of fifteen thousand dollars at the end of the summer, she’d seriously consider quitting. Obviously she was accomplishing little with her time.

  And yet, deep inside, she knew that as tempting as giving up was, she couldn’t do it. Not because she was so determined to locate the Stone. She was pretty sure that even if it did exist, and even if by some miracle Richard Weston did have it, she’d never find it.

  In fact, the lure of the Stone had taken a definite backseat to the mystery of Maxwell Weston. There had to be a reason he acted the way he did. After seeing the way his father treated him, she felt sorry for him. She’d been watching the way the staff treated him, and it was most curious. Either they seemed terrified of him—which was understandable considering his outbursts—or treated him like he was a toddler, incapable of understanding much of anything except the most elementary concepts like being hungry, tired or sleepy.

  She’d be willing to bet that wasn’t the case. There was a look that came into his eyes whenever he was treated like a child. The only label she could assign to the look was resentment. She wondered why, if he resented being treated in such a way, he didn’t just tell them to stop. But thus far she hadn’t heard him utter one word. Which was something else that was very odd. What was it about talking? Was he just insufferably rude or was he mute?

  Like everything else about Maxwell, it was a mystery. She’d tried to ask several members of the staff questions about him, but everyone had made it clear that if she wanted answers she’d have to go to Osgood, and he wasn’t very open to discussion regarding Maxwell. Every time she even asked a question, Osgood would remind her what her duties were and suggest she concentrate on fulfilling them and not wasting her time and his with pointless questions.

  The entire situation seemed stranger with each passing day. She wished she could think of something that would break the ice with Maxwell, but had no idea what that would be.

  Noting that he hadn’t moved, she paused to look at him. “You want to play a game?”

 
; He hesitated then nodded.

  “Okay, great.” She started setting up the table.

  Surprisingly, Max was very good. In fact, he ran the table three times before she got to take one shot. She complimented him several times and once was even rewarded with a slight smile. Finally, she had a good run and tied the game. It was down to the wire. Whoever made the next shot would win. She missed. Max was up. He missed, which surprised her. Then she made the shot. Excited to have at least won a single game she threw her arms up in the air. “Yes, yes, yes!”

  Max didn’t respond well to her victory. In fact, his face went through a series of expressions before finally contorting in what she perceived as anger. Without warning he snatched up the final ball on the table and threw it. Nikki ducked down behind the table, hearing the crash of glass as the ball impacted with a window. She started to rise but quickly hit the deck again when he swung the cue stick and smashed the light above the table. Shards of glass rained down.

  Nikki was scared but also angry. Her anger surpassed her fear and without considering her own safety, she jumped up, cue stick still in hand, and shouted at him.

  “Stop it!”

  Max whirled toward her, the stick in his hands poised like a baseball player at bat. She glared at him, gripping her own stick tighter. “I mean it. Stop right now. There’s no excuse for you acting like this!”

  His eyes widened as if in surprise then rage seemed to take control of him. He brought the cue stick down on the table, snapping it in half. Nikki flinched but stood her ground. He threw the broken remains of the cue stick on the floor and raced from the room.

  Nikki blew out her breath, feeling the rapid beat of her heart as she placed her own cue stick on the table. Betty ran into the room. She took one look and dashed back out, yelling for Mr. Gaynor. Nikki sighed and prepared herself for the inevitable confrontation with Osgood, asking herself if Maxwell or the money was really worth it. At that moment she wasn’t sure.

  —

  Max watched from the window as Nikki sat down on a bench in the garden and opened her book. He knew she was upset and angry. He didn’t blame her. He hadn’t exactly been friendly since she arrived. In a way he was sorry. He’d like to be friends with her. Actually, if he had a choice he’d choose to be more than friends, but that would never happen, not with her or anyone else. That was just a dream. He’d be lucky if he ever found anyone who would just talk to him.

  When he first met Nikki, he thought she might be that person. He’d been disabused of that notion by eavesdropping on a conversation between Betty and Steve, his father’s driver. Nikki was there for one reason. The money. She was broke and needed money and that was the only reason she’d taken the job. Not only that, but Betty said she’d heard Louise and Osgood talking and they were both suspicious that Nikki was the latest in Richard’s list of playthings.

  Then his father had postponed his trip. Maxwell had watched Richard and Nikki. He saw the look on his father’s face when she was around. It made Maxwell angry. Nikki was young enough to be Richard’s daughter. He should leave her alone. Maxwell was glad when his father left. Things were always better when his parents weren’t around. Osgood didn’t drug him and he didn’t have people shouting and cursing at him.

  Richard had left specific instructions for Nikki to have full run of the place and had told Osgood to make sure she was provided with anything she wanted. According to Betty, Osgood wasn’t happy about that and didn’t like Nikki because of it. He thought she was just another gold-digger.

  What if Osgood was right? Maxwell wasn’t sure. She’d spent time with his father, but the times he’d watched she hadn’t seemed happy about Richard’s attention. But maybe it was just an act for his benefit. What if she really was there to spy on him? Suspicion made Max fearful. He had to find out and the only way he knew how to do that was through tactics he’d used in the past. He acted badly, becoming destructive and violent. If she was Richard’s pet, it was a sure bet she’d report to Richard. Of course, she might also just give up and leave. He had a pretty good average at getting rid of the drones.

  Max had been watching her closely, as well as maintaining surveillance on the phone calls. So far, she’d made only two calls, one to a girl named Catherine and another to a number listed to a Benjamin Marshall.

  As he watched from the window, he wondered again if the staff could be wrong. If she wasn’t Richard’s new plaything, could he be messing up the best opportunity he’d had in years? He just didn’t know, and taking a chance wasn’t easy. Still, she didn’t seem like someone who was there to spy on him. Even when he scared her in the billiard room she didn’t threaten to call his parents, or even sneak off and place a call.

  Maybe he was misjudging her. He’d paid a visit to his grandfather. Simon assured him that the only way he would really know the truth about Nikki Morgan was to take a chance. The problem was, he didn’t have the courage. Simon knew that and in the end agreed with Maxwell that maybe he should just turn up the heat and see what happened. She just might crack.

  —

  Gaspar stood at the window beside Simon’s chair, looking out over the grounds. They watched Nikki walk out onto the pier and stop to look at the water.

  “I take it things are not going well.”

  Simon looked up at him. “According to Osgood, she’s been quite busy, searching the estate. However, as we both know, Richard wouldn’t be foolish enough to hide the Stone or the device where they could be found. If that were the case, Osgood would have located them long ago.”

  “There does exist the possibility that he doesn’t possess any part of it.”

  Simon shook his head. “No, the housing device must be in his possession. Lucien came here that night specifically to deliver it.”

  “And died before he could tell anyone where it was. Since the house was searched thoroughly, not only by Richard and his people but by you as well, it would appear that Lucien did not have it in his possession when he made the fateful visit.”

  “No, he had it.” Simon seemed to be speaking to himself as much to Gaspar. “He had to have had it.”

  Gaspar wasn’t convinced but he didn’t voice his doubts. It was an old argument, one on which he’d never been able to sway Simon’s position.

  “Our people inform us that new excavations are taking place in France and Ireland.” Simon looked up at him and Gaspar elaborated. “Rennes-le-Château and Tara to be specific. Hardly the actions of someone who already has the treasure in his possession.”

  Simon stared at Gaspar for a few moments with knitted brows. “I can see why someone might come to that conclusion. However, don’t forget, Lucien never said he possessed the entire device. Only the holding mechanism. Therefore, it’s reasonable that based on anecdotal evidence and documentation, Richard would continue his activities to locate the remainder of the components.”

  Gaspar had to concede the point. Richard wouldn’t stop until he possessed what he sought. It wasn’t in his nature to do otherwise.

  Simon changed the topic of discussion. “It seems that despite all attempts to dissuade her, our Ms. Morgan continues to try making a connection with Maxwell.”

  “I take that to mean that he’s been his typical charming self?”

  Simon laughed. “He can be quite the demon, can’t he? But who can blame him, Gaspar? Look at the life he’s been forced into.”

  “Some might consider his existence enviable.”

  Simon barked a harsh laugh. “Only those whose minds are complacent and easily satisfied with paltry material things. No, Maxwell is not such a man. Would that I could release him from this prison.”

  Gaspar put his hand on Simon’s shoulder. “You saved his life, Simon. As surely as I breathe, I believe that Richard or his equally evil wife would certainly have had Maxwell disposed of long ago were it not for your quick thinking and actions to prevent it. By putting fifty-one percent of all your holdings into Maxwell’s name and assigning yourself power of attorney, you
saved Maxwell and yourself.”

  “Temporarily, yes. Richard wouldn’t dare touch either of us until his retinue of lawyers discovers a way around the legal labyrinth I’ve created for them. However, never underestimate your opponent, my friend.”

  “Point well taken. Nevertheless, I fail to see what more you can do with the situation such as it is.”

  Simon nodded and looked out at Nikki sitting on the pier. “Perhaps it is not I who will find the solution to this particular problem.”

  Gaspar followed his gaze. Maybe Simon was right. In all of nature, it seemed to be the random element that led to the most startling discoveries and insights. Could Nikki Morgan be that random element? Only time would tell.

  —

  Nikki was alone in the library reading when Osgood’s voice came from behind her.

  “Mr. Weston would like to speak with you, Ms. Morgan.” He carried a cordless phone in his hand.

  “Oh, okay, thanks.” She took the phone, not bothering to see if Osgood would stay to listen. It really didn’t matter to her. There was nothing she had to say to Mr. Weston that he couldn’t hear.

  “Hello?”

  “Nikki, hello dear. Just checking in to see how things are.”

  “Fine, Mr. Weston.”

  “No trouble with Maxwell?”

  Nikki was not about to let him know that so far she’d been a dismal failure in the Maxwell department. “No, sir, everything’s fine.”

  “Excellent. How’re you progressing with your thesis?”

  Nikki was surprised that he asked. “Uh, fine, I guess.”

  “Problems?”

  She thought about what remained of all the notes she had taken. Two days ago she’d left everything on her bed while she went to the kitchen for something to drink. When she returned she found her notes shredded into a thousand pieces all over the room. She had no doubt who was responsible but saw no point in complaining to Osgood. He would simply excuse Maxwell by resorting to the standard “he’s temperamental” speech.