The Midas Trap

by Sharron McClellan

  “Could he be swayed to help us?” Simon asked.

  She shook her head. “Not a chance.”

  “Okay,” he replied, and she gave mental thanks that he was smart enough to know when to drop a topic. Her eyes slipped further down the page.

  Deacon Gilchrist. Every muscle in her body tensed. Now she knew why Sylvia swore. “Aw, crap.”

  She traced the crayoned name with a fingertip.

  “Another problem?” Simon asked.

  “You might say that.”

  “Tell me,” Simon said.

  She pushed the paper toward him. Concern and curiosity emanated from him in almost palpable waves. “He’s a black-market mercenary. Backed by a lot of money, he’s beaten me to more than one artifact. If he finds the Stone, God only knows whose hands it will end up in.”

  Realization dawned in Simon’s eyes, and she knew he followed her line of thinking. “And in the wrong hands, it will be more than a source of unlimited wealth.”

  Veronica finished the thought. “It will be a weapon.”

  Suddenly, the length of time they had to find the Stone seemed dangerously short.

  Sylvia went down the hallway to check on her napping twins, leaving Simon and Veronica alone in the kitchen to study the list of rivals.

  “Any thoughts?” Simon asked.

  Once again, Veronica read the names of the archaeologists who sought the Midas Stone and let the implications of Michael’s and Deacon’s possible interference roll through her thoughts. “I think it has to be either Deacon or Michael who robbed us. The others are good archaeologists, but that’s the problem. They’re scientists with grants.”

  “I’ve met Morgan,” Simon added. “Money had little interest for her unless it bought her more time on a dig.”

  Veronica rose, needing to move. She opened a cupboard, hoping to find coffee. “It has to be either Michael or Deacon.”

  “But which?” He took the crayon and underlined the two names as he spoke.

  Veronica shook her head. She wished she knew.

  No coffee, but there did seem to be a lot of tea.

  She hated tea. She shut the cupboard door, fighting the urge to slam it closed instead. She leaned against the counter, the edge cutting into her hip. “My first instinct tells me that it’s Michael.”

  “Lover’s quarrel?” Simon asked.

  Heat flooded Veronica’s face, but she couldn’t deny that her past relationship possibly played a part in Michael’s involvement. “Partly, but ransacking our room and stealing our passports is his style. It was cowardly, sneaky and leaves little room for confrontation. Plus, it slows us down, giving him time to break in to my computer.”

  Veronica massaged her temple with her fingertips. “Deacon is another matter. He might ransack our room, but he wouldn’t have left because I was going to catch him. He’d wait for me. For you. With a gun. And he’d get the required information—no matter whom he hurt.”

  Simon circled Michael’s name. “Unless we learn differently. Now, how long do you think it will take him to break in to the computer?”

  She shook her head, frustrated that any of this was happening. She knew it was going to be difficult to get to the artifact, but she didn’t think they’d be running the proverbial gauntlet. “I don’t know. I use different passwords for both the operating system and the e-mail, but the encryption isn’t standard. Rebecca created it. It’ll take a while for him to figure it out.”

  Simon doodled a circle on the side of the paper. “So we have time.”

  “Maybe. He’ll break the code eventually. He has the money to hire anyone he wants.” She rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands. When she saw Michael again, and she knew she would, she was going to cheerfully beat him unconscious. “The one thing we have in our favor is that we know where the Eye is, and he doesn’t. Not yet. We need to get to Turkey before he breaks the passwords and reads Rebecca’s e-mail.”

  “You forgot one problem. We don’t have passports anymore.”

  “We’ll have to get new ones,” Veronica responded. “And fast.”

  “If we can,” Sylvia said as she entered the room, her pink top marked by what, Veronica thought, looked like baby spit.

  “Do you think that’ll be a problem?” Simon asked, turning toward her.

  Sylvia sat down across from him and raked her hair back into a ponytail, securing the thick mass with an oversize clip. “I have no idea. I have never had to acquire fake IDs before, so I do not want you to get the impression that I can conjure them up.”

  Simon took Sylvia’s hand in his. “I am betting you can do anything you set your mind to.”

  Was he flirting? Where did that come from? “He’s right,” Veronica agreed, trying to wipe the surprise off her face. “Ask some questions. See what you can do. But don’t put yourself in jeopardy.”

  Sylvia gave a brief nod. “I will be careful.” She glanced at Veronica. “I wish I could do more. I’ll admit I would join you if I could. I’m a bit jealous of this new adventure.” Her eyes darted toward the twins’ bedroom where her sons lay sleeping. “But there is so much to lose now. Too much.”

  Sylvia’s look of devotion and a wholly maternal, unconditional love spoke volumes. No stone was worth risking her or her children. “Syl, maybe you shouldn’t get involved. Not with Deacon in the mix.”

  “I agree,” Simon said.

  Sylvia threw up her hands in exasperation. “First you come here for help and now you don’t want it?” She waved them off. “I will be careful, trust me. So, put your mutual guilt away. Some discreet inquiries won’t do any harm.”

  Veronica glanced at Simon and in unspoken agreement they nodded. Besides, it wasn’t as if they had a choice in the matter. Not if they wanted to get to Turkey before Michael. “Okay,” Veronica agreed.

  She pushed away from the table. “We should leave. Let you get to work.”

  Maybe it was being around family, but she found herself suddenly missing her sister and wishing she’d come with them. Granted, Alyssa would hate all this. The intrigue. The sewers. The illegal activities.

  But it would be nice to have her input.

  She kissed Sylvia’s cheek. “You have the number to the hotel?”

  “Yes.” She bussed the air next to Veronica’s cheek. “I will let you know as soon as I have any information.”

  “Thank you.” Simon rose from the chair. “Be careful.”

  Once again, Sylvia glanced upward, and her expression softened. “Do not worry. I know my priorities.” Standing on her toes, she placed a light kiss on Simon’s cheek. “I know she is tough as nails, but watch her back.”

  “Always,” he replied.

  “Excuse me?” Veronica interrupted. The last thing she needed was these two conspiring—even in jest. “I think I can take care of myself.”

  “Of course you can,” Sylvia teased. She turned back to Simon. “See what I mean?”

  He grinned, and Veronica rolled her eyes. “I hope you two are done.” She tugged on Simons’s shirt as she passed him. “Let’s go, laughing boy.”

  Talking over his shoulder, he waved goodbye to Sylvia. “She might be ungrateful, but don’t worry, I won’t let that keep me from watching out for her.”

  Despite the fact that he was still a mystery, Veronica’s pulse skittered and her skin warmed at his words and the knowledge that he was watching her back.

  “Do you ever feel like this whole expedition is a game of hurry up and wait?” Veronica asked as she tossed her backpack into the back seat of the rental car.

  Behind her, Simon loaded their luggage into the trunk. “Constantly.”

  Buckling herself into the front seat, she shielded her eyes from the direct light of the setting sun and watched as he finished and came around and joined her.

  They’d passed the afternoon going over the few notes that weren’t stolen and then gone to a library, seeking any information that might help them, but it was the usual pap fed to the masses. Mythology.
History.

  They’d both avoided the topic of “what if.”

  What if Sylvia couldn’t get replacement passports?

  What if Michael hacked into the laptop?

  What if they failed?

  When they had returned to the hotel, they found a handwritten message pushed under their door. All it said was “Come over. Immediately. Bring all gear. Sylvia.”

  Simon pulled way from the curb, and they rode in silence. The codex was tucked in between the clothes in Simon’s backpack which was at Veronica’s feet.

  They passed the Spanish Steps, then cut over a street to pass near the Trevi Fountain as they made their way south to Sylvia’s. Streetlights flickered to life, breaking the dusk of sunset.

  “Any idea on what we’ll do if Sylvia can’t help us?” Simon asked, breaking their silence.

  “Yes.” In her thoughts, she’d run scenario after scenario, and they all came down to one thing—they’d have to sneak in. “We do whatever it takes.”

  He adjusted the mirror. “Glad to hear we’re on the same train of thought.”

  Simon parked the car at the curb in front of Sylvia’s apartment house. Anxious to find out what her friend had discovered, Veronica almost leapt out while the car was still moving.

  She was knocking on the door as Simon walked up behind her. Sylvia opened the door almost immediately. “Benvenuto. Entrato. We have a problem.” She ushered them in, bussing them both on the cheek as they crossed the threshold.

  Filing into the kitchen, Veronica stopped. An unfamiliar man sat at the same table they’d sat at this morning. His blond hair was cropped short and his blue eyes were bright despite the thick glasses perched on his nose.

  “This is my husband, Thomas.” Sylvia scooted past Veronica, taking her by the arm and pulling her forward. “Thomas, these are the people I told you about.”

  He rose and extended his hand. He was almost as tall as Simon. “Nice to meet you.” His British accent was thick. “Syl has told me about you and your little problem.”

  How much? Was it wise to bring in another person? The questions flickered through Veronica’s mind, and she glanced at Simon, who looked equally uneasy.

  Their misgivings must have been more palpable than she thought, because Sylvia went to stand by Thomas after Simon shook his hand. “Do not worry. He can help you.” Standing on her toes, she kissed her husband. “He married me. He can’t be too well-behaved.”

  “True,” Veronica replied, forcing herself to relax. Thomas might not resemble the bad boys that Sylvia used to date, but looks were often deceiving.

  All four sat down at the table. “Were you able to find replacement IDs?” Simon asked before Veronica opened her mouth.

  Sylvia shook her head, dark curls sweeping across her shoulders. “No. Getting fake passports is not as easy as you would think. If I had more time, I might be able to do it, but as it is, I have no idea how long it would take. Even then there’s no guarantee.”

  Veronica’s stomach sank. “It’s a no-go?”

  Sylvia took her hand. “In that regards, yes. That is of little consequence at this moment. We have a bigger problem.” Her strong hands shaking with agitation, she squeezed Veronica’s fingers as if to drive home a point. “The Vatican discovered the codex is missing and that Veronica is in town.”

  Now she knew why Sylvia had them hurry and bring everything. They were lucky the police weren’t waiting for them at the hotel, but in Rome, police procedure was notoriously complicated. If they hadn’t gone to Sylvia for help, they would never have known this and might be in custody even now.

  “Hell,” Simon growled. “How?”

  “They were tipped off.”

  “Michael.” Both Simon and Veronica said at the same time.

  Veronica clenched her hands into fists. She should have seen this coming. He’d probably followed them. “We’ve got to get out of Rome. Tonight.”

  Sylvia rested her hand on her husband’s arm. “This is where Thomas comes in.”

  “Thomas?” Simon asked.

  “Me.” Thomas replied, cheerily. “When Syl and I met, I wasn’t in pharmaceuticals. I was in shipping. Some legal. Some that was, shall we say, a bit borderline.”

  Veronica leaned forward. She knew Sylvia wouldn’t marry a goody-goody.

  Thomas continued. “There are people who owe me a few favors, and I called one in. I can get you on a container ship that will take you to Istanbul—no questions asked.”

  A container ship? She wanted to fly out to Turkey tonight. “How long will it take to get there?” Veronica asked, the familiar excitement that came from a challenge, building in her blood.

  “Two days.”

  “Two days!” The excitement died as quickly as it had sprung to life. A lot could happen in two days. Michael could break into the computer, get the Eye and be halfway to the Stone in two days.

  Thomas gave her a sympathetic shrug. “It’s all I can do. If you say yes, we have to leave tonight. The ship sails in the morning. You have to get to Catania.”

  “That’s in Sicily. How do you propose we get there?” Simon asked. “The train takes more than twelve hours.”

  “I have a pilot’s license. I’ll fly you.”

  Simon didn’t respond, and Veronica knew he was processing the information in his usual fashion. Finally, he gave a single, slow nod, then turned his attention to her.

  What did she want to do?

  With a groan, she buried her face in her hands. Alyssa had been right. This was getting more complicated than she could have ever imagined. While two days seemed like forever in the race to find the Stone, there was little choice in the matter.

  She hoped that Rebecca’s encryption on her laptop was as good, or better, than she’d promised.

  Resting her hands on the table, she met their individual gazes. Thomas was confident. Sylvia eager and worried.

  Simon was as expressionless as ever, letting her make up her mind without distraction.

  Taking a deep breath, she leaned back in her chair. “This sounds like the plan of a desperate person. I’d say it’s perfect for us.”

  Chapter 9

  It was the second day on the ship, and Veronica was sure that she was going to run screaming down the hallway at any moment.

  Not from fear but from boredom. One could only read for so long, and staring at open water through a miniscule porthole held no interest. The container ship passed the occasional island, but without binoculars, she could only see uninteresting blobs of green and white.

  Yesterday, there had been a brief flurry of activity when they passed through the Corinth Channel, its sheer vertical walls separating the Peloponessus Peninsula from mainland Greece like a misplaced Grand Canyon.

  Now she sat on the floor with Simon and a deck of cards.

  Unfortunately, she wasn’t good at cards. She’d lost count of how many hands of rummy she’d lost. Then Simon had found a cribbage board and beat her again. And again. And again.

  To make it worse, they were betting imaginary money, and she was down fifty thousand.

  She hated to lose.

  “Want to quit?” Simon asked. She didn’t miss the triumph in his eyes. Being beaten was one thing.

  Admitting defeat another.

  “Of course not. You’re not worried I’ll win, are you?”

  He chuckled. “Uh. No. There doesn’t seem to be much of a chance of that, does there?”

  She glared at him. “We’ll see.”

  Five minutes later, she’d lost. Again.

  “Another game?” she asked, shuffling the cards. It wasn’t much, but it was all they had.

  Simon rose and stretched. His hands flattened against the low cabin ceiling. “Maybe later.”

  She let the cards drop to the floor. She supposed winning all the time was probably as boring as losing on a consistent basis, but when it came to cards, she wouldn’t know.

  Simon paced the length of the small room in three strides, then retur
ned to the porthole. He was as restless as a tiger in a meat locker, and she couldn’t blame him. They’d been given the cabin with firm instructions to not leave it. For anything. There was a toilet and a sink, but no shower and certainly no tub.

  She sniffed the stagnant air. They were both beginning to smell.

  Simon yawned.

  “You can grab some sleep if you want,” Veronica offered, gesturing toward the small single bed that was the only place to rest. Since they got on board, one of them had stayed awake. Thomas might trust these men, but she didn’t and neither did Simon. At least she had Lily. “I’ll keep my eyes open.”

  He shook his head. “Thanks, but I’m just bored out of my skull.”

  “Yeah. Me, too.” She rested her back against the wall. “We could talk about Turkey and the Eye.”

  Simon sat on the bed. Stretched out, his feet hung over the edge of the small twin bunk. “Is there really anything more to say until we talk to Nasim and have Rebecca resend the information?”

  “No. I guess not.” Veronica sighed. He was right, but what else was there to do but talk and sleep?

  Remembering what she dubbed in her head as the incident, in the hotel, she had a few ideas regarding how to pass the time, and she was sure the same thoughts shifted through Simon’s brain on occasion. She’d seen him sneak looks at her, his dark eyes heated and anything but motionless, leaving her edgy with an animal need that she both wanted to suppress and explore.

  Heated glances and animal need aside, she knew neither of them would act on their desires. They were getting used to each other, and it wasn’t Rome, their joint adventure into the Vatican or even getting robbed that inspired certain camaraderie.

  It was a full twenty-four hours in each other’s company with nothing else to do but deal with each other. They argued. They read. She forgave him for being an ass and calling her Hollywood. He tried to hold a conversation with more than just monosyllables.

  Early on, she’d tried to get him to tell her more about his past. He refused. She recognized some of her sister’s personality in the way he skirted her questions and changed the subject. She could push for answers, but if she did, he’d dig in his heels and never tell her anything. It would be better to be patient—difficult for her even under the best of circumstances. Eventually, he’d tell her what she wanted to know.