Heroes Duet

by Pinder, Victoria

  Uriel’s mind switched on and for the first time today. His coworker had never looked for him in the halls, so something exciting must have happened. They exited the building and stepped into the autumn air. Red leaves rustled on the trees from the cold wind that was ushering in the change of seasons. “I’m glad to see you, Brady—what a surprise.”

  Brady stayed beside him as they crossed the barren lawn. The dark sky gave no hint of ending the bitter cold and soon the colors would all just fade away. “I didn’t expect to be here. You have some interesting visitors from the CIA.”

  Strange. Uriel opened the door to the archeology department, taking the second interior door on the right. “The CIA?” He entered his cluttered domain. Two men in black rain coats stood and took off their felt hats. Uriel ignored the adrenaline that rushed through him and turned toward his friend. “Why… are they in my office?”

  “Mr. Uriel Dalligatti?” The blue-eyed older man had skin so pale he’d bet it hadn’t seen the sun in years.

  Uriel pushed his pocket watch in his side pocket of his tailored jeans. “That’s me.”

  The second man, an African American fellow with a Georgian accent and a dark gray suit, asked, “Do you also know a Dane Pearce?”

  Uriel’s entire body stilled. He’d done everything he could to not be Dane. He met his friend’s gaze with a casual shrug. “Brady, let me talk to the officers alone.”

  The always amiable Brady smiled and held the door handle. “I’ll wait for you outside in the hall.”

  As Brady shut the door, Uriel asked, “Can I see your badges?” His mind raced. No one needed to remember Dane.

  Both men showed their badges, which seemed legitimate. Uriel didn’t move until he heard the handle click, and then he walked over and locked it. He’d spent years trying to forget his past and it wasn’t something he wanted his friends to know. Once he was sure no one could hear him, he turned toward the two officers and asked, “Why is the CIA interested in Dane?”

  The older white man motioned for them to sit. Uriel took his seat behind his desk as the man sat in one of two chairs opposite the desk. “Dane Pearce inherited a safety deposit box that we think holds the Irish Crown Jewels.”

  He realized that the CIA had tracked him down and dispensed with games. “I have?” He immediately assumed this had to do with his murderous father—technically, Edmond Pearce was his stepfather, but Uriel hadn’t known that until the day his mother had died at Edmond’s hand. His biological father had been sent to jail for a crime he hadn’t committed.

  Could Edmond Pearce have knowingly kept stolen property that would have bought him a place in European nobility if he’d returned the crown jewels? It would be one more crime to add to the others. Greed. Surely his stepfather must be burning in an afterlife, if such a punishment even existed.

  In a soft accent, the younger officer leaned on the desk and pounded it lightly. “You admit to being Dane Pearce.”

  “I filed for my name change through the courts, which is, I assume, how you found me.” Uriel glanced at both men. Neither should think he’d had anything to do with a crime that had happened over a century ago. He adjusted his chair and pretended to be comfortable. “Changing my name isn’t a federal charge, officer, and my father isn’t someone I want to associate with.”

  The younger man went to say something else, but the older agent put his hand up, nodded and then said, “We’re not here about your name, but we’d like your help in returning the Irish Crown Jewels to England as a good-will gesture.”

  Uriel had always liked figuring out mysteries, and though not archeology, the Irish theft had been one of the most expensive heists in history. He folded his hands on the desk. “They were stolen in some homosexual scandal with the Vicar. How would Edmond Pearce have what was probably sold off in Amsterdam in 1907 and never recovered?”

  The younger officer straightened and smoothed his jacket. “We believe one of your father’s ancestors bought the set in auction in 1907 and has kept them in a Paris bank until World War Two, when they were placed in a London bank.”

  The Irish Crown Jewels would technically be English, and if they were located in London, this seemed like a UK problem. Uriel picked up a pen that had fallen off his desk and set it back in the cup holder. “Why haven’t the London police just raided the box and taken back their stolen goods?”

  The older man explained, “The trail doesn’t have a lot of evidence to back it up.” His pale cheeks turned pink.

  Which meant they didn’t have a warrant to technically raid something he’d inherited. He wanted no part of the theft or jewels. “No, it probably wouldn’t.”

  He stood to show the CIA officers out. If they were right and he owned this box, he’d discover the contents on his own time. First, he needed to finish the paperwork and head to Canada.

  The two men also rose, but then the older agent asked, “Do you know a Ted Vet San?”

  Ted. The blond man in his thirties whose scarred face made him seem much, much older, loved to torment him, taunting Uriel, spreading rumors, saying that Uriel would never truly be a great archeologist. He could ignore all of that, but weeks ago, Ted had stolen the Incan statue destined for a museum in Peru, then disappeared. Uriel widened his stance with a curt nod. “Yes. I know him. Why?”

  The African American agent flicked the cuffs on his dark gray suit. His accent deepened. “He tried to break into your father’s box and is now likely going to wherever you stored this necklace, as it’s supposedly the key.”

  They knew about that necklace?

  The officer took out his phone and showed him the rose garland, which was five blossoms with pavé-set diamond petals, old-cut diamond collet stamens, and emerald detail, linked by pavé-set diamond twigs and leaves, enhanced by emerald berries, mounted in platinum. He’d inherited the piece after his mother’s murder and it wasn’t famous stolen jewelry. His entire body was cold.

  On Emily’s prom night, he’d given that to her in lieu of traditional flowers as she’d admired it.

  Emily Mira’s blue eyes still haunted him years later, though he hadn’t been in touch since. Something zipped inside him that he now had an excuse to see her. “My mother’s necklace.”

  “Do you have this in your possession?” the older agent asked.

  Uriel narrowed his gaze. “Why would that matter?”

  A hint of pink flushed his face. “We believe Ted is on his way to the US with a team of his people to retrieve the necklace.”

  His pulse skipped. Emily was in danger. This was all his fault. His chest ached so badly that he felt like the tin man about to get a heart. He lifted his chin. “I’m not saying another word until I know what you want.”

  The older man said, “Our country is willing to pay you for your private property.”

  Just compensation was part of the constitution, so they weren’t offering anything special. He looked at both officers. “And you want to give it back to England?”

  “Yes.” The younger man pocketed his phone inside the gray suit jacket.

  “Okay. I’ll help, but I need information.” And if Ted was on his way to Emily, then he needed to extract her from any danger. Which meant see her again. His hairs on his arms stood straight up. “What does the Belle Epogue Diamond and Emerald Egalantine necklace created by Cartier have to do with the bank?”

  The younger man shrugged and drawled in a low voice, “It’s the key. You need to present this as a means to get in the bank box.”

  “What happened to pins, finger prints, eye retina scans, and modern security?” Uriel thought a necklace seemed like a silly answer for security.

  The older man answered, “This was arranged long before computers. The bank honors its agreements, though if you show up with the necklace, they’ll want you to update your security settings. We believe Ted Vet San is actively trying to take it from wherever you stashed your necklace as we speak so he can access your vault and steal the Irish Crown Jewels.”

&nb
sp; The CIA certainly knew a lot about his box—more than he did. But the necklace didn’t matter. First he’d save Emily, get his mother’s necklace and then head to England and open the box himself. If they were right, he’d give it to the CIA or directly to the British Crown. The English Crown Jewels would be displayed and he’d have helped solve a crime from over a century ago. All he needed to do was be fast, but he had his own jet. What he’d say to Emily was the only question, but for now he nodded. “I’ll have to beat him then. I’ll call you once we return.”

  Without another word, he left the officers in his office behind him and motioned toward Brady, who often traveled with him on sabbaticals to handle computer scans and modern questions regarding archeology. Brady had been sitting patiently on a wooden bench in the hall and clearly texting with Henry about going on another adventure to stop Ted Vet San. “Brady, let’s go.”

  “Where are we going?” Brady asked as the two men walked back out into the cool fall air.

  Emily, in an emerald green silk prom dress, floated to his mind. “To Gainesville, Florida.”

  Brady wore the look of horror that only a true Harvard professor might have for even mentioning a public university. “What’s there? I thought we needed to go to London for something already in your possession.”

  Brady had obviously listened to the conversation in his office. Would he say anything? If Uriel could keep his past a secret from his colleagues then no one might judge him as the son of a man whose father murdered his mother. Uriel directed them toward his black Mercedes. “I don’t know what’s in that box. I’ll go find out for the CIA, but first I need to get the necklace back.”

  “You don’t have it.” Brady opened his own door. Once Uriel was in the driver’s seat he asked, “What did you do with it then?”

  Uriel started the car and for the third time in broad daylight, he had another memory of Emily and her warm inviting kiss. He shook it off and focused on the road as he drove. “I gave it to a woman.”

  His friend laughed and laughed like Uriel had just told him the punchline of a joke. He even held his stomach as he asked, “What woman ever turned your head, Uriel?”

  Right. His hands clutched the steering wheel. This was too much. He swallowed, and his face stung from an imagined slap Emily might give his cheek. Leaving after her prom night was probably not the nice-guy move he’d mastered in later years. Emily had been there the day his mother died and she was probably the reason he’d lived through it.

  She deserved better than anything he’d offer. He turned on his blinker and headed toward the airport. Right now he needed to face her at least one more time. “One from a long, long time ago. She’s not going to be happy to see me again.”

  Brady stopped laughing. “Well, try some charm, Uriel. You’re handsome enough but you never try to just smile at women and start conversations. Your one-night-stands are something I’ve never understood. You literally do nothing to attract women and yet they follow you around—like that poor girl you left crying in the hall.”

  “Nothing isn’t going to work with Emily.” Uriel felt the air drain from his lungs. Emily had every reason in the world to slam the door in his face and tell him to leave.

  He owed her his life and he’d taken advantage of her in exchange. He never should have claimed her virginity, or her kisses, all those years ago. She deserved far more and he hadn’t even offered friendship in return.

  Now she was in trouble and it was because of him—he’d make this right and disappear from her life, fast. It was the best thing he could do.

  Chapter Two

  Emily Mira adjusted her black graduation hat and proudly flounced her blue tassel as she stepped from her red Jeep Wrangler. She smoothed any wrinkles from her short, same blue as the tassel, dress and walked toward the bar a block away.

  Everyone at the bar would know she’d graduated today. She and her friends had big plans of pictures with their caps that they’d only wear once. She’d finished her PhD and never had to work on her thesis again.

  As she headed toward the night club to meet her friends, she hummed to herself. She imagined her mother, Monica, in heaven, happy with Emily on graduation day.

  If she’d lived and hadn’t died in a car accident when Emily had been fifteen, she’d have been proud.

  Real life began soon, though, as college ended. No more scholarly papers on history.

  She’d even passed her real estate license.

  No one would call her doctor, but at least being a realtor brought in money until she found that faculty position she craved. It was time to stop getting degrees no one cared about except her.

  Tonight, though, that didn’t matter. This was about celebrating. Emily held open the door of the club and immediately smelled the alcohol.

  Her sister’s husband, Michael, had always taught her to be safe, so as she stepped inside, Emily checked her pocketbook—she had her fake jewels, and the sleeping pills that dissolved in alcohol in case she needed to escape someone who might have used some sort of date drug.

  None of her friends spent their breaks away from college learning defensive training from an overprotective brother-in-law, who also doubled as a second father in her life—but she was grateful that he cared.

  Her friends stood at a table with drinks already ordered and she headed straight for them. She hugged the dark-haired and feisty Maria, about to be a resident at the University of Colorado in Denver hospital; Florencia, an accountant with a nose for numbers, and Karla who was now a lawyer about to clerk at the Supreme Court in DC.

  Every single one of them had amazing careers before them. Everyone but her. Emily would figure out her life, eventually. She fingered her gold necklace as she looked at the drink menu. The moment a waitress stopped, she ordered a white mojito and let the necklace fall. Karla tugged her hand and gestured everyone toward the dance floor as she said, “Emily, this is going to be so much fun. Don’t look so sad.”

  “Let’s dance!” Emily followed, her mood bittersweet.

  Tonight they danced and drank for the last time. Who knew when they’d all be together again?

  Emily swayed with her friends to a fast song. Florencia asked, “Are you going to miss us when you move to Miami to be a realtor?”

  Emily refused to cry. She smiled and flipped her hair like it was part of her dance routine. “Of course. You three have such amazing careers ahead of you.”

  “You will too,” Karla said loyally.

  Maria tapped her arm and whispered as she pointed to a man with blond hair and blue eyes. “That guy is clearly looking at you, Em.”

  “He’s not even cute.” Emily quickly pursed her lips as she discreetly checked the guy out—he was at least twenty years her senior judging from his weathered skin and she wasn’t about to hook up with a man going on fifty when she’d literally just turned twenty-eight.

  No thanks. She continued to dance with her friends. Hopefully he’d get the hint if she looked away.

  However, her friends parted like they were the Red Sea and the man was Moses. He leaned close and she smelled cigarettes on his clothes. He held out his phone and showed her a picture of her younger sister in high school. “Ms. Mira, can I speak to you? It’s about your sister, Isabella.”

  Perhaps she’d read the man wrong, though a cold sense washed through her as she pointed the man to her table, away from her friends on the dance floor. “Oh. Sure, let’s talk over there.”

  Without a word he followed. She picked up her mojito that had been delivered and sipped as he said, “Ms. Mira, that’s an interesting necklace you’re wearing.”

  This necklace had started many conversations since Dane had given it to her to wear for her high school prom. She’d not seen or heard from him since, but that night was one of the sweetest she’d ever had. She put her drink down and shrugged. “It’s kind of a family treasure. Now, what about my sister?”

  The man looked over his shoulder at two other men near the door and then asked, “You
consider Uriel Delligatti family?”

  “Who?” Her mind went blank. The last name was familiar from somewhere, but she’d never met a Uriel. The name rhymed with one of her favorite cartoon characters so she wouldn’t forget it.

  The man motioned with his hand—the two other men had grown to four associates, all menacing in their stance as they took out guns and raised them high.

  Patrons of the club screamed and ran toward the door. Her graduation cap tumbled off her short blonde hair, but it didn’t matter. Her heart beat fast as he clasped his hand on her arm and again showed his phone to her. “Look, this is your sister, Isabella?”

  “Yes. Why?” She pulled her hand back.

  Her friend Karla had made it to the door with the crowd. Karla held up her phone and said “911” and then ran with the others to safety outside.

  Her other two friends were not as lucky. Florencia and Maria now had guns pointed at their heads as they clutched each other. The man held his phone next to his wrinkled face. “She will die by my hands if you don’t give me that necklace.”

  Isabella wasn’t here in Gainesville—she lived with their sister and Michael, finishing her last semester at University of Miami in the spring with a business degree and interning at Michael’s company. Her ears buzzed from the screams inside the club, but this man, even with his guns, was no match for her brother-in-law. She shook her head and said, “You clearly don’t know my brother-in-law if you think that threat will work.” Most times, Michael had said, men with weapons were bluffing—but you had to be prepared for when they weren’t.

  The man put his phone in his pocket and said, “So you won’t give me the necklace?”

  Dane, even though he’d left her, somehow still mattered to her. Sure, she’d only known him two years of her life, but she’d never forget his kisses or the verbal sparring lessons.

  Her fingers gripped her glass—she needed to get out of here, like Karla.

  She released her hold on the drink and shoved the table at him, and when he wobbled, she kicked him away from her as she ran toward the door in a full-out sprint.