by Alex Archer
She punched Redial. “Doug, if I don’t hear back from you in the next five minutes, I’m going to bury myself in archaeology work and you’re going to have to find a new cohost for Chasing History’s Monsters.”
It wasn’t an idle threat. The exposure she’d received on the television show had spawned a lot of offers from other places. But a new endeavor, where she didn’t already have contractual agreements, could have eaten up her time and taken her completely from the real work she wanted to do.
She broke the connection and looked back at Shafiq and Lochata. “He’ll call,” she told them confidently. “I’ve never threatened to quit before.”
Shafiq took a sip of water from the bottle she’d given him. He didn’t look impressed.
“Perhaps I could arrange something at the university,” Lochata said. “Of course, it wouldn’t be permanent, but I’ve learned when these things happen it’s better to have something to shore you up.”
“I’m not fired,” Annja said. “They wouldn’t fire me.” But deep down she didn’t know if that was true.
The phone rang.
“Doug, it’s about time. If you think for one minute that I’m going to put up with—”
“It’s not Doug,” Roux interrupted. “What has you in such a dither?”
Annja folded her arms and resumed pacing. She couldn’t believe everything was just within her reach and it was going to be yanked away.
“I’m dealing with a stressful situation at the moment,” Annja said.
“Oh. Well, it doesn’t sound like you’re dealing very well with it.”
“I’m dealing with it just fine. What do you want?”
“A more civil conversation, perhaps,” Roux said.
Annja sighed. “Sorry. Caught up in the moment. Maybe it would be better if we talked at another time.”
Roux ignored the suggestion. “Have you found out anything more about the naga figures you found?”
Some of Annja’s irritation turned Roux’s way. He had to be the most selfish man she knew. Everything in his world turned around him, and he expected everyone else’s world to be accommodating.
“Nothing,” Annja said.
“What have you been doing with yourself?” If Roux had noticed her irritation, he plainly didn’t care. More than that, he sounded irritated himself.
“I’ve been researching. I just haven’t turned anything up.”
“Well, you should pursue this,” he said.
Annja gazed out at the harbor. She thought she could see the Casablanca Moon out in the distance, but the night was so dark she couldn’t be sure.
“I’m trying,” she replied. “That’s why I called you earlier. Are you interested now?”
“Slightly intrigued.”
“Why?” Annja wondered what had changed his mind.
“Have you been able to translate the language at the base of the figure?” Roux asked.
“No.”
“Neither can I.”
“That intrigues you?”
“Yes,” Roux growled.
“You’re not a linguist,” Annja said.
“No, but I know people who are.”
That stopped Annja. It was true. Roux knew people everywhere.
“None of those people can translate the language, either,” Roux went on. “I’m told that the Indian languages derive from the Dravidian and Indo-Aryan.”
“They do.” Annja recalled that from her studies, though that wasn’t within her field of expertise.
“It’s been suggested that this is a language isolate.”
“A natural language?” Annja asked.
“Exactly. I wasn’t familiar with the term,” Roux said.
“A language isolate usually consists of a family of one. No other languages touch on it. The Basque language in Spain is an example.”
“That language is spoken by millions of people,” Roux pointed out. “The possibility exists that this is a dead—or at least a forgotten—language.”
“Wow,” Annja said.
“You say wow. I say infuriating,” Roux replied.
“But this could be really cool.”
“Clearly.”
Annja thought quickly. Roux had a lot of money. She needed money to make the excavation happen.
“How intrigued are you?” she asked hopefully.
“Not so much.”
“How can you not be interested?”
“This isn’t my thing, Annja. There’s no great mystery here.”
Annja rethought her position. If I can’t solicit him, there’s always begging.
“I have a problem,” she said.
Roux sighed. “If this is going to be one of those soul-baring moments, I’m really not interested.”
Why? Annja wanted to ask. Is the masseuse waiting?
“I need money,” Annja said.
“You have money,” Roux replied.
“Not enough.” Annja thought of Roux’s mansion in Paris, the private airplanes and the wealth she’d seen him throw around when he had to. However, he was extremely frugal by nature.
“What do you need money for?”
“Boat rental, supplies. For the excavation.”
“How soon would you need it?”
Hope sprang within Annja. “Tomorrow morning?” She looked at Shafiq.
The big captain hesitated, then nodded.
“Tomorrow morning is impossible. You’re talking about a large amount of money.”
Annja knew that was true. “I want to do this excavation, Roux.”
“Again, I don’t see how that concerns me.”
“What if I had a life-threatening condition that required an operation?”
“Then,” Roux said cautiously, “we would talk. But you don’t have a life-threatening condition requiring an operation. And if you did, there are always payment plans.”
Annja wanted to kick the glass out of the window and scream at the dark heavens. How could he be so infuriating?
“There’s no way you’re going to extort money from me, Annja,” Roux said.
“Consider it a loan. I’ll pay you back.” Surely she could package the story rights in some way, especially if she was no longer involved with Chasing History’s Monsters. That would pay back whatever financial obligation she incurred.
“You could be dead tomorrow.”
Roux’s flat pronouncement caught Annja off guard. A chill raced up her spine.
“That’s something I have to remember at all times in my dealings with you,” Roux said in a softer voice.
And what do you say to that? Annja wondered.
“The main reason that I say no,” Roux continued, “is that moving around that kind of money that quickly could leave me in a precarious position. I’ve been very careful with my assets. I don’t want to draw the attention of international money mongers.”
“Sure,” Annja said. “I understand.” But she didn’t. She’d never had that kind of money to throw around.
“I would be interested in hearing the end of this tale,” Roux said. “Perhaps, when you’re finished over there, we could get together over dinner. I’ve some things I’d like to discuss with you.”
“Right.” Annja’s eyes burned and she knew it was from all the disappointment she was feeling. What do you think? she asked herself. That Roux’s going to ride in to save you like a real father every time you get into trouble? He didn’t even do that for Joan.
“I wish you the best in your endeavor,” Roux said.
Annja thanked him and hung up.
“No go, eh?” Shafiq asked.
Not trusting her voice at the moment, Annja shook her head.
“Well, then, I guess we’re done before we got started. We both have our problems, Miss Creed.” Shafiq stood. “I shouldn’t have let myself get swayed by all your pretty words. I’ve been in this business long enough to know to go strictly cash on the barrelhead.”
Annja took a deep breath and let it out. “Wait. There�
��s one more call I can make.” She punched the buttons on the phone, hoping she recalled them correctly.
The phone rang three times, then Garin answered. “Ah, you memorized the number from the other phone.”
Annja knew she was in trouble from the smug tone in Garin’s voice.
18
“I was told you were going to throw that phone away,” Annja said. The thought crossed her mind that he hadn’t thrown it away because he’d guessed she might call again.
“You called just to test that?” Garin’s voice held a mocking tone.
“No.” Annja was too conscious of Shafiq’s and Lochata’s attention on her. When she glanced at them, they both looked away.
This is not a personal call, she wanted to tell them. This is strictly business. They had detected something in her words or body language. But it was something that definitely wasn’t there. The situation was simply embarrassing. She turned back to the window and tried to ignore them, but then she caught herself glancing at their reflections in the dark glass.
“Then why did you call?” Garin asked.
“I want to present a business venture.”
“Okay, I’m listening.”
“I think I’ve found a shipwreck.”
“You believe this is where you got the little trinkets involving the nagas?”
Wariness consumed Annja. She didn’t know who was trying to trap whom now. Garin had been along on other expeditions she’d done. He had a habit of picking up treasure and absconding with it when the chance presented itself. Losing what might be out there wouldn’t be a good thing. The Indian government authorities would frown on such losses occurring under their noses.
Garin also took the occasional opportunity to try to kill Annja and Roux. The rescue earlier in the day had been the most surprising thing he’d ever done. Except for the time he’d saved Roux’s life instead of letting him die.
“Yes,” she said. “I do.”
“I saw them online,” Garin said. “I know your usual Internet haunts, and from the preoccupied manner in which you dealt with me—”
“Don’t forget that I’d just been told I’d been declared dead.”
“—I knew you were working on something.”
Annja could hear the smug superiority oozing through Garin’s words.
“I am working on something,” she admitted.
“The nagas.”
“Yes.”
“The business venture you’re offering has something to do with the nagas?”
“And the shipwreck I believe is out there.”
“If you’re going to proposition me, let’s hear it.”
Annja didn’t much care for his choice of words. Garin knew enough languages that she was certain the choice had been deliberate.
“I want to attempt to recover whatever’s left of that ship,” she said.
“Why?”
“Because it’s what archaeologists do.”
“I’m not an archaeologist. And if the shipwreck is found in territorial waters, which is what I’m guessing, then salvage can’t be recovered without cutting the Indian government in. I’ve no intention of doing that.”
“The Archaeological Survey of India is going to get whatever we find,” Annja said. “Eventually,” she added.
“Then there’s no profit,” Garin stated.
“Don’t you own a media company?”
Garin paused. “Someone’s been snooping around my companies.”
“I wouldn’t call it snooping,” Annja said.
“Then what would you call it?”
“Curious. You’d be surprised what you can pull up on Wikipedia.”
Garin laughed explosively. When he finally regained control of himself, he said, “I do like you, Annja. I swear that you’re one of the most outrageous women I’ve ever met. And I’ve been around a lot of women.”
Annja felt good about that. She didn’t want to, but she did. She didn’t want to measure up on any of Garin’s scales.
“You own a media company,” Annja said again.
“I do. In France.”
“I propose to let you have the film rights to the recovery of the shipwreck excavation,” she said.
“With you in the lead?”
Annja hesitated. She’d have to talk to her lawyer to make sure she wasn’t breaking any agreement with Chasing History’s Monsters. But she believed she was on safe ground. She knew she could take on film work as long as it didn’t directly compete with anything she was doing with the television show. And the television show pulled out of this one, Annja reasoned. No conflict of interest.
“Yes,” she said. “With me in the lead.”
“You’ll handle the excavation from start to finish?”
“I will.”
Garin was silent for a moment. “I don’t know.”
“It’s a good deal,” Annja said. “I’m a proven commodity in the entertainment market. You can get a deal with HBO or Showtime, or The Discovery Channel or The Learning Channel.”
“Probably. But I don’t know if it’s going to sell any better than The Best of Annja Creed Collection.” Garin paused. “And why isn’t Chasing History’s Monsters all over this?”
Annja decided to lay her cards on the table. She had nothing to lose. If she tried to hide the show’s initial involvement Garin might be upset.
“They were,” Annja said. “They pulled out their funding a few minutes ago.”
“Why?” Garin asked.
“I don’t know. They’re not returning my calls.”
“I see.”
Annja listened to the silence for a time. Her anxiety was growing.
“I’ll agree to your proposition,” Garin said finally. “I’ll provide funding—”
“Immediately,” Annja interjected.
“Immediate funding,” Garin amended, “for your project. We’ll work out the points on the royalties later, but I assure you I’m going to get most of them.”
“Agreed.” Annja wasn’t interested in the profits. She just wanted the opportunity to see what was there. If she’d been independently wealthy, she would have funded the excavation herself.
“There is one further condition that has to be met,” Garin said. “Otherwise there’s no deal.”
Irritated, Annja asked, “What?” She was sure she was about to have the carpet yanked out from under her again.
“You have to agree to have dinner with me,” Garin said.
“What?”
“Dinner,” Garin said. “You. Me.”
“We’ve had meals together before.”
“This will be different,” Garin said.
Welcome to my parlor, said the spider to the fly, Annja told herself.
“It occurs to me that if we had dinner, you might find it easy to kill me,” Annja said. She saw Shafiq’s and Lochata’s eyes widen in their reflections in the glass.
This has to be one of the most confusing conversations they’ve ever eavesdropped on, Annja thought.
Garin chuckled. “You don’t trust me?”
“I can’t believe you have to ask,” Annja said.
“You can pick the place,” Garin declared magnanimously.
“All right.”
“But I get to pick the city.”
“That doesn’t sound fair,” Annja said.
“It’s a deal breaker,” Garin warned.
Annja thought quickly. She didn’t trust Garin. She had plenty of reason not to. He’d tried to kill her and Roux on more than one occasion. Then, like this morning, he’d turned around and done something that benefited her.
Don’t make mistakes, she warned herself. Garin never does anything that doesn’t reward him.
“Well?” Garin asked.
Annja thought about the naga figures and the fact that an undiscovered shipwreck had probably been brought up from the ocean’s floor after hundreds of years. She wouldn’t let the opportunity pass her by.
“Deal,” she said.
“Let me know the name of the man I need to talk to and how to reach him, and I’ll take care of the financial matters,” Garin said.
“As it happens,” Annja said, “he’s here with me in my hotel suite.”
“Oh?” Garin’s voice lost some of the devil-may-care resonance.
Annja took pleasure in that as she handed the phone over to Shafiq. The captain wandered off and started talking numbers with Garin.
“Everything is all right now?” Lochata asked.
“I think so. We’ve got a new financial backer.”
“Ah. Is this an old acquaintance of yours?”
“Not in the way you think,” Annja assured her.
“Someone you’re interested in, then?”
“No, definitely not,” she said.
“Of course not,” Lochata said, but she looked as if she didn’t believe Annja for a minute.
Annja told herself she wasn’t interested in Garin, but she knew she was lying. He was always intriguing. Not only that, but what was Roux going to do when he found out?
19
“Look, Annja,” Doug went on, “it wasn’t my decision to pull the funding for the excavation. I was fighting for you. I’m still fighting for you. I’m writing a memorandum right now that’s fighting for you hard-core.”
“Don’t strain yourself,” Annja said. She sat at a small table in the cybercafé only a few blocks from the pier and listened to Doug Morrell plead his case. She almost felt sorry for him because he sounded sincere, but she was distracted by the excitement about getting the excavation under way.
Captain Shafiq and his crew were finishing up with the supplies and equipment. Lochata was stating their case to the ASI and pulling in favors from the university. They believed they’d be ready to set sail by 2:00 p.m. That was less than three hours away.
“Doug,” Annja said, “it’s no big deal. Don’t sweat it.”
“Don’t sweat it? After you strong-armed me to get the money for your spelunking trip?”
“Marine archaeology,” Annja corrected, “is more like diving. Spelunking has to do with caves. We’re not in a cave.” She took a bite of her sandwich. “Unless there’s a cave down there on the ocean floor. Then it’s diving and spelunking. But as of right now, there’s no cave.”
Doug took a deep breath. “You don’t want to leave the show.”