Wicked Business

Diesel ambled out and Mindy sucked in some air. “Wow,” she whispered.

“This is Mindy Smith,” I said to Diesel. “Your assistant. Her associate is coming shortly with the second car.”

“Nice,” Diesel said.

Hard to tell if he was talking about the cars or about Mindy Smith.

“As you know, we try to get the best vehicles available,” Mindy said, handing Diesel the keys to a black Aston Martin. “I hope this will be all right. The second car is identical to this one.”

“I can make do,” Diesel said.

“The papers are in the glove box. I’ve made arrangements to have your previous cars towed from the bakery parking lot. And I have the two new cell phones you requested.”

The second car eased to a stop behind the first car, and a woman who looked like a Mindy Smith clone got out. She flushed a little at seeing Diesel, and for a moment I was afraid she was going to do something awful, like curtsy to the king. Fortunately, she pulled herself together and simply smiled and gave Diesel the second key.

“While you’re here, you can help me out with one more thing,” Diesel said.

He ran into the house, and minutes later he came out carrying the painting wrapped in a sheet, the Duane bell, and the Motion Machine.

“These need to be returned to their owners,” he said. “There was a plaque that needed to go back as well, but it was stolen by a crazy lady.”

Mindy took the painting, and her clone took the bell and the Motion Machine. Both women looked like deer in headlights, not sure what to do but unwilling to ask Diesel.

“Thanks,” Diesel said to the women. “Have a good trip.”

I followed Diesel into the house. “Where are they going? And how will they get there?” I asked him. “They haven’t got a car.”

“I guess they’ll go back to the office, wherever that is.”

“You don’t know where the office is located?”

“No. Never had to go there.”

I looked out the window. The women were gone.

“How? What?” I asked.

“They’re very resourceful,” Diesel said.

“Did they get beamed up or something?”

“You don’t want to know. It would freak you out. Let’s say someone gave them a ride.”

Good enough for me.

“I’ve been instructed to defuse Anarchy,” Diesel said. “She’s made herself a sufficient nuisance to catch the attention of whoever makes these decisions.”

“You don’t know who makes the decisions?”

“I know some of the people involved. Their precise responsibilities aren’t well defined. It’s a blurry hierarchy.”

“I have her cell phone number.” I handed her card to Diesel. “She gave me twenty-four hours to get the stone to her, or else.”

“Or else what?”

“She’ll burn my house down.”

“I’d hate that,” Diesel said. “I like this house.”

Diesel had the two cell phones that replaced the ones that had drowned. He gave one to me, and he punched Anarchy’s number into the other. She didn’t answer.

“Probably getting her hair done and a manicure,” I said.

“Do you have an address?”

“No. She said she was between addresses.”

“No doubt.”

“What all is involved in defusing someone?” I asked him.

“I can block certain kinds of destructive energy.”

“Can you do that to Wulf?”

Diesel shook his head. “I’ve never been sanctioned to try. There are people in high places who protect Wulf.” He looked at his watch. “I have an errand to run. Pack some sandwiches. When I get back, we’re going on a field trip.”





CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR


I was buckled into the Aston Martin next to Diesel, and Carl was in the backseat. We’d been on the road for two hours, and I wasn’t happy.

“This is a dumb idea,” I said to Diesel.

“It’s a loose end that has to be tied.”

“Yeah, but why do I have to tie it? Why can’t you tie it all by yourself?”

“Where would the fun be in that? Besides, I can’t do this without you. I’m not going to all this aggravation only to bring home something worthless.”

We were going back to Dartmouth to try to retrieve the half tablet Anarchy dropped in the tunnel. I couldn’t argue over the value of the tablet. If it could be deciphered, it would give us a head start on finding the next stone. At least it would give us half a head start. Anarchy still had the other half.

The legend is that a tablet accompanied each stone and gave the name of another guardian family. It was the way families were able to find one another over the centuries if disaster struck.

My problem was that I flat-out did not want to go back underground. And I thought this whole search-and-rescue mission smacked of wild-goose chase. What were the chances of finding half of a tablet in the endless, dark, confusing tunnels?

“I wish you would stop sighing and harrumphing,” Diesel said. “It’s starting to creep me out.”