He’d missed this, he realized, even knowing now that his cousin more than likely meant to go behind his back the second he turned around, and that he wasn’t having a genuine conversation as much as he was stalling for time. Eerika didn’t seem interested in any of it, instead hanging well behind them and checking her watch or her phone every two minutes. Part of him hoped he actually had just interrupted a stroll through the woods. Even that part of him, though, wasn’t willing to bet on it.
At the same time, Samantha’s assessment that he’d monetized his relationship with his only cousin continued to push at him. Richard took a breath. “Do you like selling cars?”
“What the bloody hell do you care?” Reg shot back at him, defensive all over again.
“Because you’re very good at reading between the lines. I could use you, I think, if you want to give it a try. I need a scout in London, someone to keep an eye on up-and-coming businesses and those that aren’t being utilized to their full potential. Lots of chatting people up and being charming, dinners, drinks, that sort of thing.”
Reg tilted his head. “Are you serious? Why bother? You’ve already bought me off.”
“It’s not charity,” Richard cut in. “This is my business, and I think you know by now how seriously I view it. I think you’d be good at it. If it…improves our relationship, I will consider that a bonus.”
The younger man actually looked down at his shoes. Was it guilt over what was he and the Viking were in the midst of plotting? A genuine thoughtful moment? Richard kept a close eye on him. If this actually stopped the treasure nonsense, that would be a second additional bonus. Mostly, though, Samantha had been correct. He needed to stop looking back at who’d wronged him or thought differently than he did and start looking forward at what he wanted for his life. In his life.
“I…might consider it, Rick. I’d like to think about it, first.”
Richard nodded. “I’m on holiday, anyway. We can talk before you leave.”
“Certainly.”
Finally, the Viking moved forward. “Reginald, I’m getting cold. And you promised me dinner in the village.”
“My apologies,” Reg said immediately, stepping away from the rear of the stable. “I lost track of time.”
“It’s getting dark,” Richard put in, making one last move to keep them close by, or to maybe convince them to change their minds. “Wouldn’t you rather I have Rob bring the jeep around for you?”
“No,” Miss Nyland countered. “We prefer to walk.”
“You know, the jeep might be a good idea, my dear. Otherwise we’ll have to walk back up the hill in the dark.”
She stomped one foot, and it nearly went out from under her. “Fine. Yes, we’ll take the jeep. Let’s be off, then.”
“I hope there are no hard feelings, Eerika.” Richard started around the side of the stable, whistling for Rob as he went. “No doubt Reg filled your head with fanciful tales of jewels and gold. It’s far more likely, if there was a cache somewhere, that it would have been silks and sweets and the occasional reticule. People riding in carriages to parties didn’t exactly carry all their riches with them.”
“Then why is this non-existent cache worth a million dollars?” she returned. “You being a sharp-eyed businessman and all.”
The gloves seemed to be coming off. That was fine with him. He’d put up with far too much shit from his relations over the past few days than he would have ever done before Samantha. Before he answered her, Rob appeared and Richard sent him to fetch the jeep.
Then he faced Miss Nyland again. “It’s not worth it. By my way of thinking, my cousin has for no apparent reason become obsessed with a treasure map from when he was fourteen. I’ve therefore given him a sum hopefully large enough to assist him in whatever it was that sent him looking for the treasure in the first place. And you might consider the downward path of Geraldo Rivera’s career after he opened an empty treasure vault, then maybe be a little more grateful to me for saving the two of you from that. Any other questions?”
“No,” Reg broke in, frowning. “No more questions.”
“I still want to go to dinner in the village,” Miss Nyland said stiffly, her chin lifted. “Let’s go now, Reginald.”
For a bare second Richard thought his cousin might resist, might grow a conscience or a spine, as Sam would say. With a twitch of his cheek, though, Reg nodded. “Thanks for the loan of the jeep. We’ll be back later.”
“I’m not your nanny. Watch the first turn. It’s slippery.”
They rounded the corner, heading for the wide stable door at the front of the building. Richard stayed where he was, swearing a nearly soundless, cloudy blast of warm air. The two of them weren’t just going for dinner at The Bonny Lass. He’d be a fool to believe otherwise.
He pulled the walkie-talkie from his pocket and switched it to channel three. “They’re getting in the jeep now,” he said quietly. “Where do you want me?”
“In the house, where we all are,” Samantha returned immediately, sounding a little breathless. “Yule knows what’s up. We’re all there, and we’re having dinner as usual. Got it?”
Richard frowned at the black box in his hand. “Yes, dear,” he returned.
“Sorry. In a hurry. You’ll have to stall your aunt and uncle now, so they don’t start wondering where we are. Love you.”
Well, at least she had time to say that. At the sound of a vehicle starting and then heading down the drive, he returned to the front of the stable. With every fiber of his being he wanted to charge down to the village and help. Instead he’d been elected to be the “everything’s normal” guy. He couldn’t see what was happening, didn’t know what was going on, and if/when everyone returned he would have to play along and hope for the best.
This was one gig, as Samantha called it, that he really wanted to be a part of. On the other hand, if anything went wrong he was precisely the person he wanted available to swoop in and perform a rescue.
While Rick went to delay his cousin, Samantha ran downstairs. “Stoney,” she said into the radio, gathering up a couple of flashlights, “get your coat. I need you downstairs. Now.”
“Roger that,” his voice returned briskly.
She skidded into the old portrait gallery. “Grab a trowel or shovel if you can find one, too.”
“Ten-four.”
“Is this an all-thieves-on-deck drill?” Donner asked, turning from his perusal of a suit of armor.
“Thieves and lawyers,” she countered. “Rick wants you to help me. It’s not a drill. Meet me in the foyer. Dress warm.”
She really could have used a little more time to finesse this plan, but it was what it was. Tactical supply-wise she didn’t have much that would be useful, but most of this was going to depend on other people, anyway.
“I need Yule in the foyer,” she yelled to no one in particular, hoping the house’s secret walkie-talkie network would come through for her.
The butler reached the foot of the stairs just as she did. “Did you need me, Miss Sam?”
“Yes. Okay, here goes. There’s a ninety-nine percent probability right now that Reg and Eerika are going after Will Dawkin’s treasure horde. They’ve seen the old map. They think it’s somewhere in a cave behind The Bonny Lass, and if they don’t find it there, they’ll never give up.” Stoney and then Donner arrived behind her, but she kept talking.
“The three of us here are heading down to St. Andrew’s, and I need you to trust me. We’re on your side. I need a look at the treasure, and I’ll need some help getting a few crappy pieces back into the original cave and making it look undisturbed. We have about an hour. Got it?”
Yule’s craggy face had gone more gray than usual, and he kind of looked like a magician whose secret-hiding curtain had just fallen down. “I…I’m nae certain why ye’ve told me all this, lass.”
“Because I need you to radio whoever’s in charge at the village and let them know we’re on our way. Your secret is safe with us, Yule.
Let me help you keep it that way.” She pulled open the door herself, shrugging into her coat as she did so.
“The…radio? I dunnae ken what—”
“I know how you’re talking to each other and to the village, Yule. It’s genius. But this is important. We’re going down there whether you help us or not. Rick feels like part of this is his fault, and so we’re helping make it right. Come on, guys.”
“I – I’ll see to it, Miss Sam.”
It didn’t surprise her that Stoney fell in right behind her, because whether he approved of her becoming a goody two-shoes or not, he was family. She had to give the lawyer some credit, too, because he didn’t hesitate either.
“If Yule can’t convince the village guys, they may just be waiting for us with torches and pitchforks,” Stoney noted.
Rick’s voice drifted to her from somewhere just ahead, and she veered left into the trees. “Keep low, and no talking,” she whispered.
Hosting a “how to be a thief” seminar hadn’t been on her agenda for today, but this would be for nothing if Reggie and Norway realized what was going on. Donner was nearly Rick’s height and wasn’t crouched nearly low enough, but on the other hand Stoney was wearing a bright blue coat. So far they were both in the C-minus range.
When they’d put a couple of dips and rises between them and Rick, she straightened again, accelerating into a fast trot. “Let’s hoof it, team.”
“How far is…the village?” Stoney panted.
“About a mile. I told you to get more exercise.”
“At least it’s downhill most of the way,” Donner put in.
“You got the gist of what I was telling Yule, didn’t you?” she asked both of them.
“Yep,” Stoney said. That made sense; he was pretty familiar with her methods even if this was a rescue rather than a grab.
“I think so. Not quite sure I…get it all, though.”
Great. The lawyer was running out of steam, too. This was definitely the D-Team. But Rick was busy keeping Boris and Natasha off her back. “We’ll have to play it by ear. I don’t know how cooperative they’re willing to be. It would be easier if I just slipped in and did this on my own, but I don’t know how the village will react to those two snooping around, especially when their goal is to make a really big deal out of it.”
Just threatening Reggie and Norway might be easier still, but all it would take would be a phone call to the authorities, or to the Viking’s producer friend about locals hiding a national treasure, and everything would change – and not for the better. Hopefully the villagers would realize that as well.
Yule had definitely communicated something, because a dozen big-ass Highlanders stood in front of the church when she and her panting cohorts slipped out of the woods. “Hi,” she said. “I’m Sam, that’s Donner, and this is Stoney. What did Yule tell you?”
“I’m Father Michael,” the smallest of the big men offered. “What Yule said didnae make much sense, so ye’ll have to tell us directly, I’m afraid.”
She nodded. “I can do that. Can we head into the church while I’m talking? We don’t have much time.”
Jamie MacCafferty, the owner of The Bonny Lass, stepped in front of her. “I reckon we’ll talk right here. Because I’m nae in favor of letting that rich fancy man take what’s ours. Or letting ye get a look at it, for that matter. We had a deal with Addison.”
And this was why she preferred to work alone. “Over the past month Reggie Addison has convinced himself that his cousin Rick found Will Dawkin’s treasure map, and that finding the treasure will make him and his girlfriend rich and famous. He got his hands on the map even after Rick hid it from him, and in an hour or so he’ll be down here to claim it all for himself.”
“He’ll nae find it.”
“I know. Because you moved it to the church after Rick tracked it down. But there’ve been too many arguments and lies. If he doesn’t find what he expects, he may just call the authorities out of spite and let them see what they can turn up. I think you know what that’ll mean.”
That caused some grumbling, most of it in Gaelic – one of the languages she didn’t speak. If she and Rick ended up spending more time here, she would have to remedy that.
“What’s yer idea then, lass? Just hand it all over and hope he keeps his gobber shut about where it came from? I’m nae willing to give our future over to some pretty London boy who already has gold coming out of his arse.”
“I’m not willing to have you give it up, either. Let me look at the stash. While I’m doing that, some of you will need to open up the old cave behind The Bonny Lass. We’ll move a few of the worst pieces back in and close it up again – just well enough that it’s not obvious but a couple of amateurs could find it fairly easily. It’s sealed up on the pub end, I assume?”
“Aye. For eighteen years. The ravine side’s been closed for longer than that.”
“We need to open the ravine side, because that’s the one on the map.” She pulled the original map and her version from her pocket. “I put this map together by reading up on Will Dawkin and taking a ride around the countryside. That means someone else could find it, too. Someone other than Reggie Addison. You need a decoy treasure there to keep the real one safe.”
“And who are ye, that we should be trusting ye with anything, Yank?”
Lifting her chin, Samantha met Jamie MacCafferty’s glare. “I’m the one who on a lark figured out where your damn treasure is and decided to help you keep it instead of calling National Geographic and getting a TV show out of the deal. Will Dawkin left this for you. Don’t mess it up now.”
He drew in a breath, his nose flaring. “If ye lot hadnae come up here, we wouldnae be in this mess.”
Men. “And if William Wallace had had a six-gun and some extra ammo, Scotland would never have gone back to English rule.” She checked the time on her phone. They were already cutting this far too close. “So do you want to play ‘what if’, or do you want to take care of what is?”
He blinked. “What is,” he conceded.
Father Michael gathered up both maps. “We can debate the rest of this later. Clive, Jamie, take the other lads and start digging up the ravine, and remember ye’ll have to make it look good and easy to open when we close it up again. Miss Sam, ye come with me.”
Finally. “Stoney, go with the cave guys. You know what it needs to look like. Donner, you’re with me.”
The pastor and two other men led the way into the church, through a well-hidden door in one of the vestibules, and down into the cellar. From there they opened yet another door, this one hidden behind a bookcase. Man, she loved this kind of stuff. It was a shame the village would probably want to move the loot again after this, because this was a really good hiding place.
She pulled a flashlight from her pocket and turned it on. A dark hole became a stone-walled cave lined with heavy wooden shelves. On the shelves were metal and wooden boxes of varying sizes, together with seven silver candlesticks, a dozen old dueling-style pistols, what looked like an old saddle, and a fair-sized amount of snuff boxes.
“Wow.” She couldn’t help it. Right there in front of her, things that had been owned, treasured, and used by aristocrats two hundred fifty years ago. From the number of boxes still here after all this time, Will Dawkin had been one hell of a thief.
“Time limit, Jellicoe,” Donner commented from behind her.
Samantha shook herself. “Right. Do you have any original chests or boxes or satchels?”
Father Michael pointed at a lower shelf. “All those there.” As she took a closer look, he dug into the back corner and produced a moldy-looking lump. “We’ve kept most everything, just in case. Will a saddlebag work for ye? And that crate there.”
“Yes. Perfect.”
They began opening boxes. Most of it was jewelry and old coins, and given that the village had already been selling off things for better than two centuries, the original horde must have been massive. She selected some yucky-looki
ng bolts of silk, a couple of broken tea cups and saucers, one gold and two silver coins that looked worn enough to pass for being buried in the dirt since the mid seventeen hundreds, one paste pearl necklace, and a pretty gold necklace from which she reluctantly pried out the ruby in the setting.
“There. Does that look like stuff scavengers would have left behind a long time ago?
“Aye,” the priest returned. “Ye’ve a good eye for antiquities.”
“They’re a hobby of mine,” she said, ignoring Donner’s throat clearing. “Let’s stuff most of it in the saddlebag, grab that wooden box and the saddle, and head over to the ravine.”
Far too many people had emerged from their homes and shops to watch the goings-on. She couldn’t blame them, given the significance of the treasure to Orrisey, but it looked damned suspicious. When she mentioned that to Father Michael, the pastor produced a walkie-talkie and spoke a few words in Gaelic. Almost immediately the crowd began thinning.
“I would have thought having wealth like that hidden away would have you at each other’s throats,” she said, as they hurried along the bottom of the ravine. “There must have been villagers who thought it belonged to them more than anyone else, or who disagreed with the speed at which you were using the funds.”
“One or two, aye,” the priest returned. “But when Will Dawkin left for the American Colonies he made it clear that his gift was for the village, so that we would survive whatever the Sassenach – the English bastards – tried to do to us. The whole village submits requests or suggestions, and a council of seven meets to vote on the next purchase or improvement.”
“That’s impressive,” Donner said, thankfully not pointing out that selling off antiquities without registering them first was also illegal. Because she really didn’t want to have to deal with that mess right now.
“It helps that we can be charming and persuasive, I reckon.”
“I hear that,” Samantha commented, stepping over an old fallen pine tree. They climbed down another dip, approaching the area she’d searched… Crap, had it just been this morning?
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