The Aquitaine Armor (A Chyna Stone Adventure Book 5)

by K. T. Tomb

  THE

  AQUITAINE

  ARMOR

  A Chyna Stone Adventure

  #5

  by

  K.T. TOMB

  Acclaim for K.T. Tomb:

  “Epic and awesome!”

  —J.T. Cross, bestselling author of Beneath the Deep

  “Now this is what I call adventure. The Lost Garden will leave you breathless!”

  —Summer Lee, bestselling author of Angel Heart

  “The best adventure novel I’ve read in a long time. I can’t wait to read the sequel. Count me a fan. A big fan.”

  —P.J. Day, bestselling author of The Sunset Prophecy

  “K.T. Tomb is a wonderful new voice in adventure fiction. I was enthralled by The Lost Garden...and you will be, too.”

  —Aiden James, bestselling author of Plague of Coins

  OTHER BOOKS BY K.T. TOMB

  STANDALONE ADVENTURES

  The Last Crusade

  The Kraken

  The Adventurers

  The Swashbucklers

  The Tempest

  Ghosts of the Titanic

  The Honeymooners

  Curse of the Coins

  Drums Along the Hudson

  THE CHYNA STONE ADVENTURES

  The Minoan Mask

  The Mummy Codex

  The Phoenician Falcon

  The Babylonian Basilisk

  The Aquitaine Armor

  The Ivory Bow

  The Rosary Riddle

  THE EVAN KNIGHT ADVENTURES

  The Lost Garden

  Keepers of the Lost Garden

  Destroyers of the Lost Garden

  THE PHOENIX QUEST ADVENTURES

  The Hammer of Thor

  The Spear of Destiny

  The Lair of Beowulf

  The Fountain of Youth

  The Ark of the Covenant

  THE CASH CASSIDY ADVENTURES

  The Holy Grail

  The Lost Continent

  The Lost City of Gold

  The Falcon Cloak

  THE ALPHA ADVENTURES

  “A” is for Amethyst

  “B” is for Bullion

  “C” is for Crystal

  SASQUATCH SERIES

  Sasquatch

  Sasquatch Found

  THE ISLANDS THAT TIME FORGOT

  Dinosaur Island

  Ape Island

  Snake Island

  The Aquitaine Armor

  Published by K.T. Tomb

  Copyright © 2014 by K.T. Tomb

  All rights reserved.

  Ebook Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Dedication

  The author wishes to dedicate this book to the late

  Jack L Chalker.

  The Aquitaine Armor

  Prologue

  “Sir Robert,” Chyna said, “I find your story truly fascinating, but then again, I’ve never met a real descendant of British royalty before. Any royalty for that matter.”

  She was gushing and she knew it. In an effort to ground herself a little, Chyna held on to Tony’s arm firmly.

  “Ilea,” Tony said, “shall we dance a little?”

  “Certainly; I was wondering when someone would ask me.”

  Tony pried Chyna’s hand from his left arm. They excused themselves and walked toward the dance floor in an effort to allow Chyna to get her feet wet in the prospective case.

  “Let’s sit down,” Sir Robert suggested.

  It was a good idea. Chyna was beginning to feel a bit overwhelmed the entire affair; she had been caught completely off guard by Ilea’s brisk introduction and Sir Robert’s explanation of his crisis. When they were comfortably ensconced at a nearby table, Robert signaled for a waiter. The man came over to them promptly.

  “Coffee,” he instructed, and the waiter moved away with his order.

  They sat in silence, taking in the activity around them until he returned with the tray; a pot of steaming coffee, two cups and the usual accompaniments. The waiter had outdone himself by bringing a few tea sandwiches and biscuits along with the beverage. Robert tucked something neatly into his gloved hand after the exchange and thanked him.

  After a few sips, Chyna’s head stopped swimming and she took that as her cue to get her facts straight.

  “Of course, you know that I wouldn’t be able to confirm our involvement until I’ve had the chance to discuss it with my associates.”

  “I understand, Miss Stone,” Sir Robert replied. “I thought you would be too gracious to accept on a whim. However, it is absolutely crucial that you take it into consideration. I’ve had a long five years since my father passed on with getting the estate’s affairs back in order and turning it into what it is today. It just seems that no matter what I accomplish there, nothing will be gratifying enough for me until somehow the armor is restored to its rightful place.”

  “Well, I guess my real question is, how would you even be able to tell it apart from another of the same period, even the same set of knights or military company; whatever the case was.”

  Robert laughed and looked straight at Chyna.

  “When you… sorry… if you come to Dordogne Estate, you will understand everything. My caretaker there, Angus McKinley, knows as much about Eleanor of Aquitaine as someone from her own court would have. That aside, the Eagle’s armor was very unique, Miss Stone. Her sigil on the breastplate alone would be instantly recognizable.”

  “What would you say the armor is worth today, Sir Robert?”

  “Well, apart from being absolutely priceless to me and the rest of the Montgomerys, I’d say a unique piece with such provenance would go at auction for upwards of a million pounds.”

  “That’s quite a sum.”

  “Indeed.”

  They sipped their coffee in silence for a few more moments before Chyna put her cup down and looked at him.

  “I’ll take the case as long as I can get one of my investigators to agree to come. As a new policy, we no longer go on solo jobs.”

  “Yes, I heard about what happened to Miss Ambrose; my sincere apologies.”

  “It turned out fine, but it might not turn out so well another time, so it’s two or no deal these days.”

  Chyna stood from the table and so did Sir Robert. She extended her hand for him to shake and then spoke again.

  “We’ll contact you in a few days once I’m back in the office.”

  “I appreciate you considering this, Miss Stone.”

  With a nod, Chyna stepped away from the table to find Tony.

  ***

  The flight back to Istanbul had felt like a homecoming for her. Tony sat close beside her with his arm draped around her shoulder for most of the flight. Chyna rested her head on his shoulders and slept most of the way like a baby.

  Tony couldn’t help thinking how lucky he was to have a woman like her in his life. There was never a dull moment and he couldn’t say that, with the lifestyle he lived, he could ever find a better fit. They both spent the vast majority of their time on the road, but at least the last year had seen them both coming to call the same country home: Turkey. Even if they didn’t live in the same city yet, it was the first time they had even lived on the same continent in fourteen years of dating. He sighed as Chyna rested her head on his shoulder again as he drove her Audi Q7 from the airport, first to her office to drop off Sirita, then to Chyna’s house in the Cihangir neighborhood.

  He only had a few more weeks of vacation before he would be starting at the U.S. Consulate office, b
ut even the thought of finally beginning in his new assignment couldn’t faze him; he was just so glad to finally be with her. In the house, Chyna went upstairs to shower while Tony took the luggage from the car and up to their bedroom.

  Their bedroom, he thought with a chuckle as he climbed the stairs.

  He placed the bags in front of the closet and sat on the bed to take his shoes off. Chyna was singing in the shower and he smiled as he recognized a song they had both loved when they had just started dating. He remembered Chyna saying to him one night that the lyrics barely made any sense, but somehow that didn’t make it any less enjoyable. He recalled that a lot of the lyrics to popular songs at that time had that same quality about them; a sense of disjointedness that seemed appropriate for the time.

  Tony unbuttoned his shirt and threw it at the clothes hamper before pushing the door open and stepping into the bathroom.

  “Tony?”

  “It’s me, Babe,” he replied, undoing his jeans and pulling them off as well.

  “Are you coming in?”

  “Of course I am, darling.”

  “Good, I was getting lonely.”

  ***

  The next morning, Chyna went into her office earlier than usual. She knew there would be piles of emails waiting for her and that she only had herself to blame for it. Chyna had taken the four days to return to Iraq for Ilea’s museum party and she had treated them like a “full on” vacation. She never once replied to the many emails and notifications she saw come up on her Blackberry; Sandra had instructions to refer everything to Sirita and Sirita had instructions to call her if anything was urgent.

  It wasn’t as bad as she had thought and she archived the old messages, deleted the trash mail and printed the ones she wanted to follow up on. Among them, and at the top of her pile, was an email Sir Robert Montgomery had sent wishing her a safe trip home. He reminded her to think about his case and accept his offer of an expense paid trip to his Bristol estate of Dordogne to gather a few facts before she made up her mind. At the top of the paper Chyna wrote, ‘Oscar: Standby’ and shoved it aside.

  “Siri!” Chyna called, as soon as she heard the front door open at a quarter to nine.

  “Chyna?” asked Sirita in a confused voice. “Is that you?”

  “Sure is! Come in here a minute, please.”

  Sirita pushed her boss’s door open and stepped inside.

  “How was it in Baghdad? Was the party as amazing as I suspect?”

  “It really was and not one speech was made the entire time!” Chyna said. “There was wonderful food and drink and a lot of dancing.”

  “Oh, that sounds like a lot of fun,” Sirita replied.

  “It was. Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll get to go to the next one; not all our clients are that formal,” Chyna reassured Sirita.

  Prior to her and Tony’s departure for Baghdad, she has gotten the feeling that Sirita had felt left out for not being invited to the museum opening. She was also aware of the fact that neither had Lana or Oscar and had quickly recognized it for what it was, which was corporate congeniality; if everyone couldn’t attend, then none would be invited.

  “Could you take a reply to this email please?” Chyna asked, handing her the printed email from Sir Robert.

  “Sure.”

  Sirita turned the paper over on its blank side and sat ready to take notes.

  “Dear Sir Robert, it would be an absolute pleasure to join you at Dordogne to get a better feel for your concerns and the history behind the disappearance of the Aquitaine Armor. Please expect myself and Agent Stewart to arrive within a week. Our office manager, Miss Sirita Patel, will forward the details of our travel arrangements to you as soon as possible. Attached are our standard release forms and the authorization forms we require to be processed for the licenses and permissions in order to bring our necessary equipment for the investigation. See you in Bristol. Chyna Stone.”

  “Gone so soon, again?” Sirita asked, concerned.

  “It’s the life we live, darling,” Chyna said. “If you want to become an investigator, you have to have your firearm and passport ready at all times. Always having a bag packed and ready to go doesn’t hurt either.”

  Sirita smiled wistfully at the comment.

  “You’ll see so much of the world doing this job, Sirita. I just hope you don’t mind being so far from home all the time.”

  “Are you kidding? I’ve always wanted to travel; my dream came true that day when you called me, Chyna.”

  Sirita stood and went to her desk to send off the email to Robert Montgomery and make airline reservations for Chyna and Tony. After a few minutes, she called Chyna on the intercom.

  “You leave tomorrow afternoon at twelve thirty, arriving at Heathrow at 2:45, GMT. Sir Robert’s email said he will arrange for his plane to take you on to Bristol so I’ll wait for his response before booking anything further. I assume you will be staying at the estate?”

  “That is correct.”

  “All done then. Your e-ticket is in your inbox.”

  “That’s perfect. Thank you.”

  “Shall I get Tony on the phone?”

  “Please, that would be great.”

  Chapter One

  A few days later, Chyna and Tony touched down at Heathrow Airport in the afternoon amid the bustle of the summer tourist season. People were converging on the six weeks of fair English weather to take in the rich history, fantastic sites and, of course, the incomparable shopping that London had to offer. They would certainly try to carve out a few days to do the same, but for now, they were preoccupied with navigating the crowds and finding their way to the private aircraft section of the airport. A few directions from security staff and a short shuttle ride later they were comfortably ensconced in the shameless luxury of the VIP lounge in the jet terminal.

  There was a skycap waiting for them at the door who almost accosted Tony in an effort to help them with their bags. Eventually, Chyna placed her hand firmly on Tony’s arm and met his eyes with hers before leading him inside to allow the man to do his job. Attractive attendants invited them in and confirmed their identity before reassuring them that their aircraft would be arriving within the half hour and that they were still on schedule for a five o’clock departure.

  “Wonderful,” Chyna replied, trying her best to validate the woman’s seemingly genuine enthusiasm.

  “May I offer you some afternoon tea? The flight is rather short, so we’ll only be having a beverage service on-board.”

  “Oh, that sounds nice,” Chyna said. “We’re famished.”

  They allowed themselves to be led by the attractive woman into a cozy restaurant area which was dominated by a huge glass wall overlooking the back runways of the expansive airport. There were no other passengers there. When they were seated at a table by the window, a waiter came with a tall tea tower brimming with sandwiches, cakes and biscuits. Chyna helped herself to a sandwich from the lowest tier that looked remarkably like the Benedictine sandwiches of her youth. When she bit into it, a smile of familiarity spread across her face as she sat back and purred softly. Tony smiled in appreciation.

  “What is that?” he asked, curious about what had given her so much pleasure.

  “I’m sure it’s just a cucumber sandwich… very British, but it tastes so much like my grandmother Missy’s Benedictine sandwiches, that I had a ‘mini flashback’ to hot afternoons under the giant mossy dogwoods on her ranch in Georgia.”

  Just then, the waiter returned with a menu for Tony.

  “Some more substantial teatime offerings, sir?” he asked. Then, turning to Chyna and asked, “What type of tea would the lady prefer?”

  “Oh, I hadn’t thought of having a choice,” Chyna floundered. “What do you have?”

  The waiter smiled. He was certainly enjoying the opportunity to ply his expertise on his obviously American guests.

  “This afternoon, we have a classic Ceylon Black, an English Afternoon blend, Earl Grey and of course, Darjee
ling teas available, madam.”

  “I love the orangey taste of Earl Grey. I’ll have some of that, thank you.”

  “Excellent choice, madam. And does the gentleman see anything which he might like from the menu?”

  Chyna was a bit thrown off that the waiter hadn’t offered her a menu as well, but she assumed that she probably wasn’t up on the proper teatime protocol of the British aristocracy. It was either that, or it was presumed that a lady would have tea and petit fours at four o’clock while the gentlemen may partake of something heartier. All in all, she didn’t mind having the tall tray’s offerings to herself, which was more than would be needed to slake her appetite.

  “As a matter of fact, yes,” Tony said in his most hoity-toity voice which made Chyna chuckle. “I’ll have the salmon en croûte with the watercress salad, but no roasted potatoes, please.”

  “Certainly, sir. May I offer you some grilled asparagus or sautéed green beans instead of the potatoes?”

  “Green beans sound excellent and I’ll have a beer with that; whatever you have on tap.”

  “Thank you.”

  A few minutes later, his meal had arrived and they both dipped into the food in silence. Neither had realized just how hungry they were until they began to eat. They were so engrossed in the food that they hardly noticed the stunning Asian woman who sauntered in and sat down a few tables away from them. Tony cut and shoveled a slice of his salmon onto Chyna’s plate and picked one of the sandwiches she had commented on from the tray.

  When the meal was over, their waiter reappeared and began clearing the table. He was rather impressed with how they had fared.

  “The flight staff would like to inform you that your aircraft will be boarding in a half an hour. Weather is forecasted to clear and the flight will only be twenty minutes into Bristol Airport.”

  “Thank you,” Tony said as he stood from the table.