Curse of the Painted Lady (The Anlon Cully Chronicles Book 3)

by K Patrick Donoghue

  He sighed and looked up at Anlon. In his expression, Anlon sensed sorrow. Then, in the blink of Mereau’s eyes, the sorrow vanished. He reached out and clasped Anlon’s shoulder. With an unwavering stare, he said, “It is time to put an end to this curse. For all of us, including Malinyah.”

  The tenor of his voice and the firmness of his grip made Anlon want to shout out, “Oorah,” and charge enemy lines.

  “Amen to that!” said Jennifer.

  “Tell me all that has happened and how the field stands,” Mereau said. “Then we will devise a plan of action.”

  For the next hour, Anlon and Jennifer ran through the entire tale, beginning with Devlin Wilson’s murder and ending with the information about Muran’s recent identities provided earlier in the day by Li. At various points during the discussion, Mereau had asked questions, but he offered no insights or commentary. When Anlon finished the recap, Mereau said, “Our plan must accomplish three goals. The first, and most pressing, is the rescue of your friend, Eleanor. The second is the death of Muran. The third is to find and secure Omereau’s Sinethal, if possible. All other matters are of lesser importance.”

  As Anlon listened to Mereau’s goals, he was glad Agent Li had excused herself before Mereau stepped from the suite. She would not have taken kindly to the selection of murder as their number two goal, justified as it might seem. Instead, Anlon imagined Li would have prioritized solving the various crimes perpetrated by Muran and Goodwin, with an eye toward bringing them both before a judge and jury.

  “So, I’m with you on goal number one, and I wouldn’t shed a single tear if Muran died in the process, but depending on the situation, we might have to settle with capturing her,” Anlon said.

  “Killing her is the only way to stop her,” Mereau said.

  “Neither of us disagrees with you, Mereau. But in our country, it’s a crime to kill another person unless you’re acting in self-defense,” Jennifer said.

  “Don’t delude yourselves. She will not surrender,” Mereau said. “If she were surrounded by a hundred men with overwhelming weaponry and nowhere to run or hide, she would never yield.”

  As Mereau defended his stance, Anlon thought of Muran’s actions outside the Middlebury bank and Jennifer’s description of her later standoff with the police on the shore of Lake George. In both cases, Muran had acted like a cornered animal, lashing out at anyone and everyone who posed a threat. Jennifer must have been thinking along the same lines. Just as Anlon prepared to concede Mereau’s position, she said, “Yeah, unfortunately, you’re right. I had a front-row seat the last time she was surrounded. Trying to get her to surrender peacefully didn’t go too well.”

  “So, what do you propose?” Anlon asked Mereau.

  “It will not be easy. Muran has not survived ten thousand years by underestimating her opponents. She is shrewd and ruthless. She will seek to define the battlefield and set the conditions in her favor. We will have to outwit her,” Mereau said. He rose from his seat and began to pace while he continued to talk. “We must assume she has discovered the lyktyl is a forgery. We must further assume Muran has already interrogated Eleanor to discover where the forgery originated. Whether Eleanor confessed freely or was induced to do so, we must assume Muran knows the forgery came from Mathieu.”

  “Question. Where is the real lyktyl?” Anlon asked.

  “It is safe,” Mereau answered.

  “Does that mean you have it?” Anlon pressed.

  “It is safe.”

  “As thrilled as I am to hear it’s safe, I’d like to know where it is,” Anlon said. “Pebbles, er, Eleanor’s life may depend on it.”

  “Your friend’s life is not tied to the lyktyl. Muran will be angry at the deception, yes, but she will be angry at Mathieu, not Eleanor,” Mereau said.

  “I wish I shared your confidence,” Anlon said.

  “So, you think she’ll come after you, I mean, Foucault?” Jennifer asked, leaning forward with elbows on the table.

  “It would not surprise me to learn she has already dispatched her confederate to Pézenas, assuming she did not kill him when she discovered the fake lyktyl,” Mereau said. “But, I don’t think she will go there herself. Not yet.”

  “How can you be so sure?” Anlon asked.

  “You misunderstand me. I am not sure. She may focus on the lyktyl first. But…if I place myself in her shoes, I would concentrate on retrieving Malinyah’s and Omereau’s Sinethals ahead of the lyktyl,” Mereau said.

  “Why?” Jennifer asked.

  “The Sinethals are unique. Malinyah’s and Omereau’s memories cannot be recreated,” Mereau said.

  “Hold up. Are you saying the lyktyl can be recreated?” Anlon asked. “I mean, I know Foucault created a forgery, so it’s possible to make something that looks like the lyktyl. But I assume the forgery can’t unlock Omereau’s Sinethal, correct?”

  “Correct. Mathieu’s creation will not work,” Mereau said. “But, it is possible to make a new lyktyl, if you have the right materials and know how to forge the materials together.”

  “You’ve lost me,” Anlon said. “If what you say is true, and Muran had Omereau’s Sinethal for, what, thousands of years, wouldn’t she have tried to make her own lyktyl?”

  Mereau nodded. “She may have tried, but it would have been very risky.”

  “Why?” Jennifer asked.

  “If she had made the slightest error, she would have destroyed Omereau’s memories,” Mereau said.

  Of course! Anlon thought. There must be a diamond inside the medallion’s black stone. Assuming the design of Omereau’s Sinethal is similar to the Aromaegh that Antonio scanned, the diamond inside its center notch acts as a stylus. It connects with the corresponding stylus inside the lyktyl. Unless Muran knew the diamond’s shape and dimensions, she would be left to guess the right combination. And if she guessed wrong, the electrical charge between the two pieces might erase some or all of Omereau’s memories.

  “I see. She doesn’t know the composition of diamond inside the medallion’s stone,” Anlon said.

  “Yes. Exactly,” Mereau said.

  “Okay, let’s assume you’re right,” Jennifer said, “and she wants the Sinethals first. We’ve got a slight problem there. We don’t have Omereau’s. Will she trade Pebbles for just Malinyah’s Sinethal?”

  Mereau shook his head, his expression stern. “She will not release her until she has both.”

  “What?” exclaimed Anlon.

  “Muran would be a fool to release Eleanor without possessing both mind-keepers,” Mereau said. “In fact, I doubt she will release her until she has the real lyktyl, too. Or makes a new one.”

  “Okay, time-out,” Anlon said. “Why would she wait until she has all three pieces?”

  “Until she has the lyktyl, she needs leverage,” Mereau said.

  “Leverage? What do you mean, leverage? Leverage with whom?”

  “Malinyah,” Mereau said, folding his arms across his chest.

  Anlon tapped the table with his fingers while he mulled Mereau’s comments. Why would Muran need leverage with Malinyah? The answer came to him as fast as the question had formed in his mind. “The lyktyl! Malinyah knows how to make a new lyktyl!”

  Mereau’s mouth formed a slight smile. Anlon jumped up from the table. Running his hands through his hair, he began to pace back and forth by the pool. As Anlon disappeared into thought, Jennifer and Mereau continued to talk.

  Muran must have kept hope that she would find the real lyktyl on her own, holding onto Malinyah’s Sinethal as an insurance policy in the event push came to shove, thought Anlon. A desperate circumstance that had apparently come to fruition. Anlon recalled Foucault’s words at Indio Maiz: “She is running out of options. She needs to find one fast.” While Foucault’s comment had been intended to explain why he believed Muran was searching for a Tuliskaera, it could have equally applied to the lyktyl. Hence his decision to give Pebbles the fake lyktyl before departing Indio Maiz.

  I
t must have grated on Muran to look at Malinyah’s Sinethal for so long, knowing the key to her perpetual resurrection was but fingertips away. Had she given the Sinethal to Anabel after all? To have Anabel probe Malinyah for the lyktyl’s location? Ah! thought Anlon. What if Anabel had visited with Malinyah and discovered who Muran really was? Had Malinyah encouraged Anabel to flee from Muran, taking both Sinethals with her? The scenario made some sense, but why would Anabel have then given Devlin the Stone?

  A question from Jennifer brought Anlon back to the conversation with Mereau. “So, you’re saying we need to tell Muran we have Omereau, hoping she will agree to meet.”

  “That’s correct. You will arrange an exchange. Eleanor for the Sinethals,” Mereau said.

  “But a minute ago you said she wouldn’t give up Pebbles unless she has the lyktyl, too,” Jennifer said.

  “True, but she will not say that. Muran is treacherous to the core. She will have no choice but to bring Eleanor to the exchange, knowing full well you will not agree to hand over the Sinethals unless Eleanor is with her when the trade takes place,” Mereau said.

  “Hold up,” Anlon said, returning to his seat at the table. “Then what? What are we going to do when she asks to see Omereau’s Sinethal?”

  Jennifer nudged Anlon’s shoulder. “You must have really zoned out. Mereau said he can translate for Malinyah. They can tell us how to make one.”

  “It only has to look like Omereau’s Sinethal. You hold it up for her to see. Given Mathieu’s attempt at deception, she will look closely for Omereau’s symbol on the front and the cuts on the back. Don’t let her handle it. Just show it to her for a moment, then put it away,” Mereau said.

  “Okay, I’m with you. What then?” Anlon asked.

  “She will try to kill you…but I will kill her before she has the chance,” Mereau said.

  “What do you say? Can you help me?” Anlon asked.

  “You know it,” Antonio said. Turning to Katie, he said, “Send the plane to get Dylan. He’ll probably put up a fuss, but tell him it’s nonnegotiable.”

  Anlon recalled Dylan was not a fan of airplanes. He didn’t mind designing them, but he didn’t like riding in them. His phobia had proved an inconvenience during the Whave engine project, but they’d done their best to work around it.

  Katie, clicking away furiously on her cell phone, answered Antonio without looking up. “Already gave the pilots and Dylan a heads-up.”

  “Any pushback?” Antonio asked.

  She shook her head as she continued to type. “Nope.”

  “Huh! I’m surprised. He’s usually such a baby about flying,” Antonio said.

  Katie looked up at Antonio with a devilish look on her face. “I told him what was up. He has a soft spot for Pebbles, if you recall.”

  “Ah! Good thinking,” Antonio said, smiling broadly.

  “Soft spot? What are you two talking about?” Anlon asked.

  Katie giggled, then bit her lip. Antonio tried to suppress a laugh but failed to hold it in. “I’ll tell you later. It’s an inside joke.”

  Katie held up her hand. “Hold on. Dylan’s typing back. He wants to know if you want him to bring the diamonds. He put two winking emoticons and a starburst at the end.”

  Anlon and Antonio exchanged puzzled looks. Then Anlon smiled. “Ah! Booby trap.”

  “Tell him yes,” Antonio said. “Now where do we get enough gold bars to do the trick?”

  “Already ordered a dozen,” Katie replied. “There’s a precious metals dealer in Palm Desert. I’ll go pick them up as soon as we’re done here and take them to the lab on Cook Street.”

  “Great. Now all we need is a smelter. We can spit out a mold in the lab, but we don’t have a smelter to melt down the gold,” Antonio said.

  “Not a problem,” Anlon said. “Mereau has a Tuliskaera. He can do the honors.”

  “Then let’s hop to it,” Antonio said. “Time’s a-wasting.”

  Jennifer walked slowly toward the conference room, wondering how Li would react when she told her their plan. Would she cooperate and give them the space to make it work, or would she nix the whole idea?

  Anlon had not been in favor of clueing in the police, but Jennifer had convinced him otherwise. If Mereau’s plan A went wrong, they needed a plan C just in case Anlon’s plan B failed, too. And the police presented their best option to put Muran down if the Lifintyls failed.

  She imagined the police would not risk helicopters again after what happened at Lake George, but they’d put drones in the sky. They also wouldn’t mess around with any sort of negotiator at this point. They’d use snipers and SWAT teams with armored vehicles. One wrong twitch from Muran and they’d bring the rain.

  The only question was, would they stand by while Mereau did the deed, especially if he attacked first? This aspect of the plan would be the most delicate part of the conversation. Jennifer sighed, knowing she would have to shade the truth in order to get Li’s buy-in.

  When she walked into the conference room, she saw Li talking with two officers as they examined a map tacked to the wall. Jennifer approached from behind just as Li said, “Then we’re screwed.”

  Jennifer froze in place, hoping to catch more of the conversation before interrupting. But one of the officers spotted her approach and said, “Can I help you, miss?”

  Li turned around. When she saw Jennifer, she blushed and excused herself from the conversation with the two officers. Turning back to Jennifer, she said, “Come with me, we need to talk.”

  “Um, okay,” Jennifer said, as she followed Li out the conference room door. “Everything all right?”

  “Where is Anlon?” Li asked.

  “I don’t know, probably back in his room. Why?”

  Li didn’t answer. She walked briskly along the arbored hallway, ducking her head in each conference room she passed. At the third one, she looked back and said, “In here.”

  Inside the dark and empty room, Li paced back and forth, gathering her thoughts. Jennifer felt a pit form in her stomach. Something had gone wrong. “Is it Pebbles?”

  “What?” Li asked, stopping suddenly.

  “Has something else happened to Pebbles?” Jennifer timidly asked, afraid to say the words, “Is she dead?”

  “No,” Li said, as she began to pace again. “Not to my knowledge.”

  “Then what’s up? You’re freaking me out,” Jennifer said, stepping to block Li’s path.

  “We found Goodwin. He’s dead. His throat was slashed,” Li said.

  “What? Where?”

  “Small airport on the border between California and Arizona. Place called Needles. We alerted FAA, gave them Muran’s plane’s ID. We asked them to help us locate the plane. Unfortunately, we were a little too late. By the time they loaded the information in their system, the plane was already airborne and they’d turned off the plane’s transponder. No way to know where they went,” Li said, shaking her head. “We sent CHP to the airport. They talked to the guy who runs the control tower. Showed him a picture of Muran. Said he’d never seen her, but…he said he’d talked with the plane’s pilot. Another woman. Young woman. They’re working on a composite sketch now, but I’m not sure how helpful it will be. She wore sunglasses and a baseball cap when she talked to the controller.”

  “What about Goodwin?”

  “Controller said he saw a white car pull up next to the plane before the plane left. He said he saw a man get out of the car and help the pilot load a third person on the plane. He said he was too far away to tell if the third person was a man or woman, but we’re assuming it was your friend. Anyway, he said the pilot and the man got back in the car and drove to the parking lot, but only the pilot returned to the plane. The controller assumed the man in the car left after that.

  “CHP walked the parking lot, looking for evidence. One of them spotted a white car beyond the lot, in a junkyard of old plane parts. They investigated and found blood on the ground by the trunk. They popped it open and found Goodwin.
Plates were missing. We’re trying to track the VIN number now.”

  “So, Muran definitely has Pebbles now,” Jennifer said.

  “It seems so. And we have no idea where they went. If they turn the transponder back on or try to land at an FAA-monitored airport, we’ve got a shot, but they probably flew south across the border into Mexico. It’s less than a half-hour flight from Needles. If that’s where they went, and I think they did, then we’re screwed. We have no jurisdiction to go after them. At least, not until we can find out where they are. If they’ve gone somewhere with friendly ties to the US, we might be able to lobby the local PD or military to coordinate a rescue effort. But it means getting the State Department involved, probably the Defense Department, too. Red tape up the ying yang,” Li said, punching her hand with a fist.

  “Damn!” Jennifer said. “What about Interpol?”

  “We can try once we find out where they went, but I’m not hopeful. They’re better suited for investigation support, not rescue operations,” Li said. She looked down at the terra-cotta-tiled floor and sighed. “Let’s hope I’m wrong and they pop somewhere in-country.”

  Jennifer looked down as well, trying to gather her thoughts. If Muran expected to orchestrate an exchange, she would have to communicate a meeting place. When that happened, they would at least know then where Muran had gone.

  “What did you come to see me about?” Li asked.

  “Huh? Oh, nothing important. Just came to see if there was any update,” Jennifer said.

  “Well, that’s all I got. Afraid it’s not good news.”

  “Do you want me to tell Anlon, or should I stay out of it?”

  “Actually, I’d appreciate it if you did. I could use the time to start calling folks in D.C. The earlier I can tee up DOD and State, the quicker they can get things rolling in case we need their help.”

  “Okay, no problem. You’ll let us know when you get back anything on the car?”

  “Yep. I’ll have someone run over the composite sketch, too.”

  “All right. Thanks,” Jennifer said, shaking Li’s hand.

  As Jennifer turned to leave the conference room, Li said, “Hey. Tell Anlon it doesn’t change anything. As soon as he hears from Muran, I want to know about it, okay?”