“Are you aware of smuggling activities along the coast?”
“Right out there.” He gestured toward the dock. “I have the wraparound deck, I’m eight stories off the ground and I’m not blind. But I assumed…drugs?” He looked at the art. “Of course not. Why bother with drugs when you can make more with artifacts looted from World Treasure sites?” He swung to face her. “Why September?”
“Priscilla…”
“That girl? She was smuggling? No.” He was very certain. “She didn’t want to do the work to get rich. She wanted to sleep her way into it.”
“We speculate that she stole those items from the smugglers and—”
He caught on at once and finished the sentence for her. “They murdered her.”
“And drugged Lloyd Magnuson when he was to drive her body to the coroner and took the body before it could be examined.”
He looked again at the art and said in an astonished tone, “Damn. I could be in trouble. It’s all the fault of the tablet.”
34
“Tablet?” Kellen counted the pieces on the shelf. They were missing one.
“The last piece of the collection is a tablet chiseled from the tomb wall. Very rare find.” Carson’s enthusiasm began to rise. “Most Mayans wrote on paper called amate, made from the wild fig tree.”
Kellen widened her eyes at him.
“And…you don’t care.” He sighed and got back on the subject. “I don’t read Mayan hieroglyphs well, so I brought it back here with the others and used my college textbook to translate the symbols. It’s a curse, and I’m superstitious enough to not want to be tormented by a long-dead Mayan lord, so I returned it to the storage room.”
“The way things are going, I don’t know if you replaced it quickly enough.” She gestured at the statues. “Can we package these up? I’ll take them to Max for safekeeping. That’ll be one worry relieved.”
“Of course. I’ve got the parcel they came in.” He went to his closet and came out with an oblong box filled with Bubble Wrap.
Together they wrapped the tomb art.
“I would think the last piece is safe enough in storage. We’ll get it when we’ve secured the situation.” She offered her hand. “Thank you, Mr. Lennex, you’ve solved half the crime.”
He took her hand and held it. “What’s the other half?”
“Who’s doing this.”
“One scary bastard.”
“We need something a little more definite than that, but I believe we’re getting close. Let me get these off your hands, and we’ll move on to the next step.” The box was heavy for its size, and knowing what was inside, she used both hands to carry it.
He escorted her to the elevator, pushed the button to summon it and said with some humor, “Next time I find you in my bedroom, can I assume you’ve come on a less deadly quest?”
“Of course, Mr. Lennex. Please be careful. I’m not the only one who knows you had the artifacts.”
“Who else?”
“Mitch Nyugen.”
“He works in maintenance and he drives for the resort. He’s a friend of yours.” Carson was very well-informed. “Are we suspicious of him?”
“Suspicious is a strong word. Let’s say wary.”
“He’s been here less time than you have.”
“He could be working for the scary bastard, and if that’s the truth…” She took a breath. “Mitch was a good soldier. He’s trained to survive, and he’s trained to kill.”
“He’s the real deal.”
“Precisely.” The doors opened and she got in. “To get him out of the way, I sent him to the airstrip with the last of the guests, but if he works for or with someone, he could have contacted them.”
“Someone who cuts off people’s hands? I’ll be careful. You, too.” He saluted as the doors closed.
Kellen exited near the security center, and as she walked the empty corridor, she glanced around. The sense of being watched crawled up her spine.
And apparently she was being watched, for when she got close, Max opened the door. “What have you got?” he asked.
“Smuggled art.”
She entered and he shut the door behind her. “You liberated smuggled art.” Now he looked at her as if she was Wonder Woman.
According to Birdie’s fictitious account, she was a superhero, and right now, she was feeling pretty smug. “Think it will fit in the vault?”
“We’ll make it work.” He ran through the code, then pressed his finger to the identifier. It figured that he was one of the privileged few who could access the safe.
The big old bank vault with the new locking system creaked open.
He cleared off a shelf and they placed the box inside.
When the vault door shut with a solid sound, she relaxed against it and grinned. “We’re doing good. Any sign of Nils Brooks yet?”
“None.”
“Any trouble in sight?”
With some humor, he said, “You’re here.”
She remembered that hungry look he’d given her earlier. Now his interest seemed businesslike.
“Who is Nils Brooks?” he asked. “Who is he really?”
Should she tell him? Annie had sent her trusted nephew as security for the resort. But death stalked the dim corridors and windswept grounds. Kellen needed help and Max could give it, and so in the plainest, fastest way she could, she outlined her history with Nils.
When she finished, Max said, “The CIA? The MFAA? He’s undercover? Come on! You do realize how absurd that all sounds?”
“I do, especially in light of his disappearance. But, Max, right now, I only trust me and thee, and I’m not so sure about thee. Or me, for that matter.” She meant that more than she could say. About both of them.
But he chuckled, a nice, rich, warm sound. “I’ll help you search. You think he’s here—”
“He is not leaving now, not when things are coming to a head.”
“Where can he be that we can’t see him?”
Her annoyance with Nils fought with her fear for him. “Dead under a rock on the beach.”
“Kellen, with all due respect, I can hardly believe he’s former CIA and undercover with a newly re-formed government agency that is concerned with, of all things, antiquities.”
Everything Max said fed into her own doubts, made her feel foolish and resentful. “If there’s a chance that he’s telling the truth—”
“I know. You’re right. Re-forming the MFAA is a good idea. I simply don’t know that I believe the government ever follows through on good ideas.” Max pushed his hair off his forehead. “Where is he if he’s not dead under a rock?”
“In the spa. In the restrooms. In one of the guest rooms. Because of privacy issues, there are no security cameras in those locations.”
“I’ll check the spa first,” Max said in heavy irony.
“I’m going to check his cottage. He didn’t answer the house phone this morning when we wanted him to evacuate. He didn’t respond when Frances knocked on his door. She said she went in and called for him and searched. But she’s frightened. I can’t see her poking into every corner.”
“You think he hid in the closet or behind the shower curtain?” Max’s tone started out incredulous and ended in a brief, humorous laugh.
“Or he was out beating the bushes.”
“Or he’s dead somewhere.” Max said that in a matter-of-fact tone.
“Yes. That’s possible, too. I texted him and he never answered.”
“Be careful out there,” Max said.
“Be careful in here,” Kellen replied.
“No problem. I’m the Incredible Hulk, remember?”
“And I’m Wonder Woman.”
As she started to walk out, he caught her arm. “After this is over, we’ll need to talk.”
She took a breath. “Philadelphia?”
“You remember?”
Her heartbeat sped up. Confirmation. He was part, maybe all, of her forgotten past. “Not really.”
Heat shimmered in the air between them. They looked at each other, each searching for some remnant of the past, of passion remembered and passion forgotten.
“Later,” he said and let her go.
Later? There might not be a later. And she wanted to know.
She leaned into him, settled against his big body, absorbed the heat and the muscled strength.