CHAPTER THREE
September, Buenos Aires
“I think this is what we have been looking for,” Rongo Te Paka said from the depths of the walk-in closet.
In response to his cousin’s words, Waimarie Te Paka poked his massive head into the closet. Rongo was kneeling on the wooden floor. The hanging bars above his head were bare. The wardrobe that had hung there was laid out in heaps on the king-sized bed being searched by George and Winston Te Paka. “What have you found?”
Rongo pressed hard on a strip of the elaborate parquet flooring. A two-foot square rose slightly. He slid a large hand under it and lifted it away. Beneath it was a gray metal safe with a digital lock.
“Well done,” said Waimarie.
Like all his Maori kin, Rongo’s face sported elaborate blue tattoos, which wriggled like so many snakes as he grinned. “I’ll have this sucker open shortly. That lock is way out of date.” He pulled a small device out of his hip pocket and went to work.
“Shout when it’s open,” Waimarie went back into Lord Felipe Balcazar Mendez’s bedroom. “Rongo has found a safe,” he announced.
“Do you want us to stop?” asked George. He and Winston were as big as Rongo and Waimarie. They too bore their rank and lineage on their heavily incised faces. But Waimarie was used to looking into the terrible faces of his dragon relatives and George’s elaborate tats barely registered.
“Keep looking,” he instructed his cousins. “You never know what you will find. I’m going to keep on searching the study.” He left the bedroom and went down the hall past four more bedrooms into the living room. His brother Haki was going through a liquor cabinet. “Find anything?”
“Lots of brandy. Balcazar Mendez had seven kinds.” There was something like awe in Haki’s voice.
“Unless there is a message in the bottle, put them back. Have you found any discrepancies in dimensions?”
Haki shook his shaven head. “Not yet. Did I hear you saying Rongo has found a safe?”
“You did,” Waimarie told the younger dragon. “But it may not be the only one. Balcazar Mendez spent a lot of time in Buenos Aires. I want to know what he was up to.”
“High living, gambling, women, and polo,” said Haki in disgust. Like all Maori dragons he had been raised to despise the decadence of European dragons. The lord of the Maori dragons was a stern old man who held his descendants to strict moral standards.
Waimarie smiled terribly. “We know about those vices,” he said wryly. “Lord Voros wants to know about his secret crimes.” Like all the Maoris on this mission, he and Haki were the sworn sword bearers of the High Marshal of the Guild of Dragons. Lord Voros of Reiki and Tarakona had been waiting months for this information.
“I know,” Haki assured his brother. “I’m being thorough.”
Waimarie passed through into the paneled study. Haki’s twin Kit had pushed the big leather chair to one side and was measuring the massive gilded desk. He too was a large man and his tattoos were just as dark and fiercely executed as those of the other Maori dragons.
“Anything?” asked Waimarie.
“Nope. Just Landor’s spoor is on top of Balcazar Mendez’s. But what Landor was looking for I couldn’t tell you. Drawers full of writing paper, pens and office supplies.” Kit shrugged. “The cupboard has been modified to take a charging station.” He held the ornately carved door open. On the floor a bar held six separate connectors.
“Interesting. There was another one set into the bedside table. Now we just need to find the devices that Balcazar Mendez wanted to charge.” Waimarie turned to the floor-to-ceiling bookcases.
He sighed. It was unlikely that the subject hid his secrets in hardcopy. But these still had to be searched. He began on the top shelf, carefully opening each volume and shaking it before returning it to its place and removing another. Dust rose. Behind him Kit sneezed. Waimarie took another book down and riffled through its pages.
* * *
September, Lind Island
“This is a delightful if unexpected pleasure.” Thorvald Lindorm smiled at his niece and her husband. “You and Christina are always welcome, Ivan, but why didn’t you let us know you were coming?”
Christina and Ivan Sarkany, Duke and Duchess of Balaur, sent their narrowed eyes around Lord Lindorm’s comfortable study. His gold, hers blue. The Castle Lind had been built defensively of thick stone blocks. Lindorm’s study was paneled with whitewashed oak. It was at once spacious, elegant, and serene. It was also completely windowless due to its internal position within the sixteenth century castle. But these days even a fortress could be bugged.
“I know that you recently upgraded your security, sir,” Ivan explained his hesitancy. “But what I have to tell you is beyond secret.”
“You may speak freely, Ivan,” Lindorm encouraged. “This room was swept for electronics only an hour ago. My sword bearers found nothing.”
“It’s a long story, Uncle Thor,” Christina said after a nod from Ivan. “And explosive. Ivan and I felt it was safest not to entrust it to even the most encrypted line.”
“Last April, when Felipe Balcazar Mendez was killed.” Ivan picked up his wife’s thread, “Hugo and I determined to uncover the full extent of his illegal activities. We assigned members of Sarkan Security to backtrack him.”
Lindorm nodded. “Your brother was quite right to wish to learn all he could of Christina’s abductor. And I have had a sheaf of reports from your people that have made disturbing reading. Lord Felipe had a finger in a great many disgraceful enterprises.” He turned his blue eyes to his niece. “If I have not already apologized for trying to arrange your marriage to that dishonest and dishonorable dragon lord, Chrissy, I do so now.”
Christina waved a hand. “Felipe fooled everyone. He had a talent for deception.” She set her hand in her husband’s. “And it all worked out well. Ivan and I are very happy.”
Lindorm beamed. “And I think you have some good news for me,” he prompted.
Christina and Ivan laughed. “Yes, Eldest.” Christina laid a hand on her stomach. “Our child will be born in May.”
Lindorm uncorked the sherry decanter on the credenza behind him and filled two glasses. He handed one to Ivan. “I will ring for more suitable refreshment for you,” he said to Christina.
She shook her head. “Perhaps later, when our tale is told.”
Lindorm raised his glass. “To your good health,” he said solemnly. “May you have a healthy fireling. The first of many sons.” He drank.
Ivan gave the paneling another worried glance before speaking. “Ever since Roland was attacked in New Zealand last March, he has been trying to find the person responsible.”
“That is not news, Ivan,” Lindorm said testily. “When Roland Voros decided to put the full weight of his position as High Marshal behind the search for Vladimir the Enforcer, he did so with the approval and consent of the entire Executive. As you know, it is my honor to be Treasurer. I am fully informed of all particulars of that search.”
Ivan hesitated. Christina touched his arm gently. He began again. “After the attempted abduction of Kayla and Aidan Voros, and the following attack on Tarakona Island by Vadim of Montenegro, Roland sent some of his most experienced Maori sword bearers in pursuit of Vadim’s accomplice Maximilian of Landor.”
“This also is known to me – and to all the Guild of Dragons,” Lindorm returned. “Have Roland’s people at last succeeded in finding Landor? They certainly have had months to do so.”
“More or less, sir,” Ivan said. “Two weeks ago, they followed Prince Maximilian from Bolivia into Argentina.”
“Have they taken him into custody?” asked Lindorm, his gray mustache bristling.
Ivan grimaced. “No, sir. Roland was consulted and he ordered that before they apprehended Landor, the Maoris find out exactly what had brought him to Buenos Aires. That’s when the Maoris discovered that the Sarkan Security team was already in Buenos Aires. They got our guys out of Felipe’s apar
tment just before Landor arrived.”
Lindorm snorted. “What happened?” he demanded.
“Waimarie Te Paka took control of the operation, sir,” Ivan said. “He and the Sarkan operatives took turns surveilling the apartment house. Landor stayed there three days before leaving to go to a clinic run by a plastic surgeon.”
“A plastic surgeon!” Lindorm exclaimed. “The young fool. How would changing his appearance alter his smell? Did he not smell your operatives in Felipe’s place?”
“Our guys used a spray that we have developed to kill scent,” Ivan said. “It isn’t one hundred percent effective yet, but it deadens live scent and makes it appear older.”
“Useful stuff,” Lindorm murmured.
“Yes, sir,” said Ivan politely. “Landor was tailed to the plastic surgeon – of course he would have been intercepted had the guys tailing him known his destination. As it was, he entered the clinic and remained. And this is where the Buenos Aires operation devolved into slapstick.”
“How so?” demanded Lord Lindorm.
“Waimarie Te Paka had by this time decided that the Sarkan operatives – our people are mostly bears who look perfectly normal, while the Maoris are heavily tattooed giants who stand out even in New Zealand– should surveil the clinic while his people continued the search of Felipe’s penthouse. In any event, there were three bear shifters watching when Landor exited three days later. But before our people could swoop in, he entered a taxi and drove off.”
“What?” thundered Lindorm.
“It’s worse than you know, sir,” admitted Ivan. “The taxi was being followed by more operatives – bears Voros sent to Ukraine to get a handle on Vladimir the Enforcer.”
“Slapstick doesn’t begin to describe this cock-up,” declared Lindorm wrathfully.
“No, sir. But the convergence of all three sets of investigators on Buenos Aires confirms our suspicions that Felipe Balcazar Mendez was being run by the Russian mob and that Landor was his accomplice.”
“I suppose so.” Lindorm nodded thoughtfully. “But what happened to Landor?”
“The Russians abducted him from under our noses,” Ivan revealed.
CHAPTER FOUR
Lindorm glared at Ivan. “I can see why you wished to disclose this disgraceful fiasco privately,” he said. “But it’s no good. The Council will have to know.”
“Believe me, sir, Voros knows,” said Ivan gloomily. “But there is more. Vladimir’s foot soldiers don’t seem to know about Felipe’s pied-à-terre, although obviously Landor did. He stayed there and Waimarie says he attempted a perfunctory search of the premises.”
“Presumably Te Paka did a more thorough search?” Lindorm asked.
“Yes, sir. Waimarie’s people found Felipe’s safe. We assume Landor did not, since it contained a great deal of damaging material.”
“Indeed,” Lindorm’s well-groomed gray brows rose. “What did they find?”
“Digital and paper records, sir.” Ivan drained his glass. “We appear to have the full details of Felipe’s criminal enterprises.”
“Excellent. That is good news,” Lindorm said enthusiastically. “But I still do not see why you could not have told me this over a secure video line.”
Christina grimaced. “We still haven’t got to the crux of the matter, Eldest. Waimarie has left Buenos Aires with a mixed team of bears and Maori dragons to look for Felipe’s widow.”
“His widow!” Lindorm goggled. “What widow?” His blue eyes went to Christina. “As recently as his death, we all supposed he intended to marry you!”
“More proof that I had a lucky escape,” she murmured.
“We already knew that.” Lindorm waved a dismissive hand. “But it seems that we never get to the end of Felipe’s dirty dealings.”
“No.” Ivan sipped his sherry, calm now the revelation had been made. “At present, we are operating on the assumption that the Russians do not know about Felipe’s wife, but that they might get that information out of Landor. She is living in,” Ivan consulted his phone, “Santa Rosa del Pampas.”
“Never heard of it.” Lindorm waved a large hand. “Are the Russians looking for her?”
Ivan turned his palms upward. “They are holed up in in a rundown building in the sketchiest quarter of Buenos Aires. Rongo Te Paka and his team are surveilling them from the building opposite.”
“So what are they up to?” demanded Lindorm.
“They are still in Buenos Aires, in their rental unit,” Christina said. “However, although the Russians are being monitored by directional microphones and we are listening in to their conversations, Rongo reports that in the last two days he has not heard Landor’s voice.”
“Dead?” asked Lindorm.
Ivan shrugged. “Your guess is as good as ours.”
“And what about Felipe’s supposed wife?” demanded Lindorm.
“Eight years ago, when Felipe married her, she was a sixteen-year-old girl,” Christina told her uncle.
“Eight years! That misbegotten son of Satan was married the entire time he was negotiating to marry you!” Lindorm gasped.
“It looks like it, Uncle Thor,” Christina said. “And he married a child. But at some point the marriage broke up. Waimarie managed to trace some domestic staff who remember him bringing this young bride home. They were dismissed after she ran off.”
“Humph.” Lindorm snorted. “Was she not a virgin?”
“I don’t know, uncle,” Christina said wryly. “But Felipe did not divorce her. At least, not in Argentina. Waimarie was able to find records of a marriage that took place between an American named Nicole Bianca Hastings and Felipe Balcazar Mendez. The divorce laws in Argentina would have permitted him to divorce her for desertion. But no such record exists.”
“Was the marriage even legal?” asked Lindorm disapprovingly. “Sixteen is very young.”
“It is in Argentina,” confirmed Christina.
“And you think Landor knows about her?” Lindorm asked. “That she is in peril?”
Ivan grimaced. “Let’s say rather that it is our working hypothesis. If the Russians decide she could lead them to Felipe’s stash – whether or not it exists – they would target her.”
“All this is very interesting, Ivan, but what do you want of me?” Lindorm asked.
“The Maoris are extremely competent, Uncle,” Christina said. “The trouble is that Santa Rosa del Pampas is a little cattle town. A bunch of large tattooed Maoris stick out like the proverbial sore thumb. Argentina has a very mixed population, but native New Zealanders are not part of that mix. Waimarie and the other Maori dragons are doing the best they can, hiding in shadows and working at night. Admittedly the bears are less obvious. However, they don’t speak sufficiently good Spanish to ask subtle questions.”
Lord Lindorm nodded thoughtfully. “How can I be of help?”
“I want your permission to send Lars and Theo to Argentina, sir,” Ivan said. Lars Lindorm was Christina’s cousin, Theodor her oldest brother.
“Both Lars and Theodor?” Lindorm objected. “Right now my understanding is that they are both involved in Navy operations. It won’t be simple to pull them out for a couple weeks’ adventuring. It would be easier by far for me to send a round dozen of my sword bearers. I have many with excellent language abilities.”
Christina and Ivan exchanged looks. Ivan shook his head. “I know we’re asking you to pull in favors, sir, but whatever is happening in Santa Rosa del Pampas is probably too involved to leave to inexperienced youths. Lars and Theo have headed up a lot of special missions. They have not only been successful, they have kept the Navy out of the media, and they have also kept themselves as well hidden. Their training and discretion are what we require for an enterprise this tricky and dangerous.”
“Santa Rosa del Pampas is not much more than a village,” Christina explained. “It has only two hotels, one of which doubles as the local brothel. It hasn’t much in the way of the tourist trade. Two large Scandin
avians are probably all it can absorb. Lars and Theo have worked undercover before. They can pass for friends or lovers on holiday. If we send a blaze of Lindorms, the place will start to look like a convention of Swedes.”
Lindorm nodded. “I take your point. I will ask my brother Hammond to furlough Lars and Theo – if they’re not actually on a mission. There are limits to what even an admiral can perform.” Lindorm looked at Christina. “Do you know what Theo is doing these days?”
Christina shook her shining blond head. “All I know is that my mother is worried, sir. Which is pretty normal where Theodor is concerned. As for Lars, you would know better than us, sir.”
“I will see what I can do,” Lindorm said uninformatively. “But if Theo and Lars cannot be spared, we will need a plan B.”
“Understood, sir,” agreed the Duke and Duchess.
* * *
September, Karlskrona
“You are suspended from active service, effective yesterday, Kapten Lindorm,” Admiral Hammond Lindorm said severely.
Lars Lindorm stood up a little straighter in his dress uniform and attended respectfully to his superior officer and uncle. “Sir,” he replied impassively. “Permission to ask why, sir?”
Admiral Lord Hammond Lindorm glared down his long nose and looked up from the papers in his hand. “The Swedish Royal Navy wishes to forestall the smallest suspicion that nepotism has influenced our ongoing investigation into the disabled Russian sub which was discovered last July in Swedish waters. The Russians have filed an official protest in The Hague. You are removed from duty pending our conclusions.”
“Sir.” Lars returned smartly.
“Dismissed,” the admiral said abruptly.
Kapten Lindorm saluted and turned sharply on his heel as per protocol.
“Give my respects to the Eldest of our House,” Admiral Lindorm said quietly as Lars reached for the doorknob. “Your Aunt Beatrix and I will hope to see you at Christmas as usual.”
Lars reversed direction and saluted once more. “Sir.” He left the admiral’s office with his hat under his arm and drove away from naval headquarters. He was unsurprised when his phone rang as soon as he walked into the large, third-floor apartment he had bought when he married Annalise.
Dragon's Possession (BBW / Dragon Shifter Romance) (Lords of the Dragon Islands Book 4) Page 3
