by Mike Baron
No. Better let that dog lie. If Beadles had learned nothing else during his years in academia, he had absorbed the most fundamental rule: control the narrative. In America that's all there was, really. The narrative. He who controlled the narrative controlled the media and he who controlled the media controlled everything. He was meeting Berenson that afternoon to choose an agent. Berenson had gone to college with Johnny Depp and had put in a call to Depp's office. If it was good enough for the Deppster it was good enough for Beadles.
No one had found the skull. Beadles was saving it for TV.
There was a knock on the door. Beadles was sure he'd given Summer a key. He opened the door. Ninja swept by wearing a beige Calvin Klein suit over a black T, trailing the scent of Acqua di Gio and a European man purse. He stood in the middle of the sparsely furnished living room and did a slow 360.
"What a dump," he said in perfect imitation of Bette Davis.
"Ninja!" Beadles said. "What are you doing here?"
"We had a deal, professor. I want my gold."
"Are you shitting me? The State of Arizona seized the gold!"
Ninja showed his perfect grill. "Surprised to see me? You shouldn't be. You know what I can do. I'm surprised you didn't try to contact me! I'm gonna be in the next issue of the Enquirer!"
"Melanie Hecht?" Beadles said going into the kitchenette. "You want a Mr. Pibb or something?"
Ninja flopped down on the leather sofa. "That be fine. I got something to show you. Something you might like."
Beadles retrieved two Pibbs from the refrigerator and returned to the living room. Ninja removed his laptop from the man purse and spooled up. He poked and stroked.
"Take a look at this, Professor. What do you make of that?" Ninja rotated the screen toward Beadles.
It showed an intense satellite magnification of an arid desert. A tag said Bolivia followed by a series of numers. The photograph was black and white overlaid with green and yellow lines. In the center was a red circle from which radiated a series of squiggly lines.
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