by Mike Crowson
* * *
The Sierra swung into the main square at Salamanca and stopped in front of an elegant and expensive hotel. Juliana was feeling a little off colour, Ian had been driving again and Cornelius was as silent as he usually was. Stella had the same air of aloof and ruthless authority she had already shown.
"I don't care about getting any further for now," said Stella. "We have no reason to suppose that those people from the dig have got the time, money or inclination to come to Spain for the rings and the other things. They probably don't even know there's anything else to recover.
"Why you two couldn't have grabbed his briefcase before you ran off I can't think," she added, not for the first time. "As it is we'll have to go to all the trouble of recovering his belongings. Not to mention the ring. And the talisman."
"It was the talisman that caught us off guard," said Juliana.
"That's no excuse," Stella answered impatiently.
"It caught the Professor off guard as well," objected Ian.
"He'd grown too old," answered Stella, "If we can recover the remaining ring and the talisman we can establish the new order without waiting for him."
"He wouldn't like that," protested Juliana. " And I shouldn't be surprised if he's left some sort of guardian lurking with the rings."
"He doesn't scare me," sneered Stella, "He can't invent a Guardian I couldn't handle," and she led the way into the hotel.