Shay stared at Erin, her heart thumping. Francois Durand. She knew the name well. He wasn’t just any contractor. He was specifically helping the anti-alien projects Ragnarök and Nephilim, and for all Shay knew other, similar government efforts as well.
Why would Durand want the lance? Is it alien?
Erin steepled her fingers. “I should explain that this isn’t the first time I’ve taken artifacts out of circulation. I’ve destroyed what I can and hidden others throughout the world. Something about this one in particular worries me though, maybe just because I can’t find anything on this man Durand. It’s like he’s a—”
“Ghost?” Shay interrupted.
Erin nodded. “Exactly. It annoys and frustrates me, so I’m taking additional precautions.”
“I’ve dealt with Durand before.” Shay leaned forward with a grim expression on her face. “He’s dangerous. I should let you know that if you get involved in Durand, even indirectly, it might end with your life being threatened.”
“I don’t care.” Erin shrugged. “You haven’t read much about me, have you, Shay?”
“Not really. I don’t pay attention to charity.” Shay shrugged.
“There have been four assassination attempts and a half-dozen kidnapping attempts.” Defiance filled Erin’s eyes. “But I’m wealthy and influential. I have the means to protect myself. Little girls in war-torn countries being carried to safety by their fathers while horrible marauders destroy their cities and shoot those attempting to flee don’t have that kind of wealth and influence. Someday I may fall to an assassin’s bullet. So be it. Until then, I will protect those who can’t protect themselves.” Erin locked eyes with Shay. “There are many wolves in this world, Shay, but most people are sheep. Someone has to be a shepherd.”
Shay blinked a few times.
She’s a damned fanatic, but is it such a bad thing to be obsessed with helping people? Not the way I would choose to spend my life, but at least I know it’ll be easy to sleep after the job.
Erin leaned back and took a deep breath, her face as pale as ever but fire in her eyes. “Forgive my intensity. We all have our place in the grand scheme of things, and I feel strongly about what I do for a living. I’ve sifted through a number of possible candidates for this task, Shay. You’re the only one who has the combination of skills, knowledge, experience, and moral fiber I need.”
“Moral fiber?” Shay chuckled. “You don’t know me as well as you think.”
“All I needed to know is that Aletheia is choosy about her clients. That has to mean something.” A pained smile took over Erin’s face.
Shay shrugged. “This isn’t how I usually do things. I need to check out some information on my end before I agree to anything.”
Erin nodded. “I understand that, but this is very time sensitive. My information suggests Durand is on the move.”
“Twenty-four hours,” Shay replied. “I need that much time.”
“Very well then, Shay.” Erin smiled and nodded at the fish. “I’ll send you additional information after the meal.”
Chapter Nine
Shay paced back and forth in front of the office in Warehouse Two, her arms crossed. Osiris followed her as if she were the most entertaining cat toy in existence.
“She offered you forty million dollars to recover the lance?” Peyton laughed. “She could send an entire mercenary company into the ruins for that much.”
“She just dropped that little bit at the end of the meal.” Shay shrugged. “She seems convinced it needs to be a tomb raider, not mercs, if only because she doesn’t trust mercs based on a few comments she made. Not sure if it’s because she blames them for making civil wars worse or doesn’t trust them in general.”
Peyton shrugged. “Would you trust someone like Grayson to go into a cave and get a weapon?”
“No, but it was almost like she was desperate.”
“She probably was, with Durand on the way,” Peyton replied. “She’s found out enough to know he’s trouble and going after the artifact, and he isn’t going to bury the lance in some bog where no one can ever use it.”
Shay shook her head. “What about the information she supplied? Are we sure she’s Erin North?”
Peyton nodded. “Either that, or she’s copying her almost exactly, including her online presence and that kind of thing.”
“Maybe the little rich woman is more than she appears. Shit. Everyone is. No reason she should be an exception.”
“Sure, but at the minimum, her background seems to match everything we’d expect, other than her approaching you directly.” Peyton shrugged. “The thing is, my initial checks back up everything she’s told you about herself. She inherited a bunch of money, then made a ton more off investments and convinced several other rich people to give money to her refugee foundation. The main negative things I can find concern her hiring teams to rescue people in violation of the local laws of some of the war-torn nations. The US government fined her for sending mercenaries to defend a refugee caravan about five years back, but it was a slap on the wrist. Best I can tell, it’s less that she stopped doing it and more that she got smarter about using shell companies to hide it when she does that sort of thing.”
Shay frowned. “That means she is willing to use mercenaries when it suits her purposes then, despite her apparent distrust for them.”
“Yes, and you’re not the first tomb raider she’s hired.” Peyton entered a few commands, and a page filled with names and artifacts appeared on his screen.
“Anything happen to those tomb raiders? Mysterious disappearances or deaths after working for her?”
Peyton shook his head. “Just the normal spread you’d expect of tomb raiders. Some of them have died and a few have ended up in jail, but most of them who have worked for her are still on the job.”
“Why me, then?”
He tapped the screen. “None of the tomb raiders she’s used in the past have anywhere near your rep, and they didn’t recover any artifacts of major power or importance.” He chuckled. “You should be happy. You’ve got an elite reputation, so this woman wants you to help her find this lance. There are worse things than some charity-obsessed billionaire thinking you’re good at a job.”
Shay snorted. “So she’s some rich saint? No such thing. I’m not necessarily gonna turn down the job, but I want to know her angle before I risk my life. Especially since Durand’s involved and she didn’t mention anything to suggest this is about aliens.”
Peyton shrugged. “Don’t know what to tell you. That said, there’s definitely suspicious stuff. A lot of the original records from her early life have been lost, and everything else indicates a normal, boring life, private school, elite college—that kind of thing. The missing records aren’t super-weird in and of themselves, but they were different records from different agencies, and if you weren’t carefully looking at date stamps and digging into things with our kind of paranoia, you might not even notice.” He frowned. “It’s the kind of thing you’d do if you were leaving your life behind and starting over. It’s hard to cover all your tracks, which both you and I know all about.”
“So she isn’t a perfect saint. She has a past.” Shay looked down at the floor as she paced. “What’s she hiding? Maybe she murdered some socialite and took over her identity?”
Peyton nodded. “It could be. You could ask her for a DNA sample, but we both know how easy it is to manipulate results, so not much point. You seem really into this, though. Is this about her surprising you at the restaurant?”
“Partially, yeah. If she had said she was CIA or something, I would have understood, but my instincts tell me there’s more to her.” Shay stopped pacing and frowned. “She doesn’t carry herself like a rich woman. She radiates…” she made a circular gesture, “intensity and confidence. It’s like if I had pulled my gun on her, I wouldn’t have been surprised if she pulled a gun herself.”
“Nothing wrong with a little confidence.” Peyton grinned. “I’d
be confident if I were a billionaire.”
Osiris waited a few seconds before bounding off, bored with stationary Shay.
She shook her head. “No, not like that. There wasn’t the same kind of sociopathy there. There’s also something familiar about her, but I don’t know what. Don’t recognize the face or the voice. It’s like… I don’t know how to explain it.” She shrugged. “She isn’t hard enough to be more than some rich woman. Damn it.” She threw up her hands. “The money would be nice, though. You might be right. It could just be that I’m bugged that this woman figured out I’m Aletheia and I never even had her on my radar before. I don’t like being surprised.”
“If it makes any difference, I don’t think she’s a secret witch or anything.” Peyton rubbed his chin. “My working theory is that she’s the daughter of a former crime lord or something like that. She grows up in wealth, not appreciating that Daddy’s making his money from arms sales and trafficking. One day she realizes what’s going on and loses it. She’s the daughter of a monster, so she maybe she kills Dad or just waits until someone else does. Takes his money. Starts over. Pledges to make up for the evil she grew up around, feeling guilty the entire time because she lived in luxury off all that dirty money.”
Shay laughed. “You should write novels with that imagination. Do you have any proof to back that elaborate theory?”
“Actually, I do.” Peyton grinned.
Shay arched a brow. “Seriously?”
“Yeah. Around the time Erin inherited all her money, Gordon Anderson, a major European arms dealer, disappeared. He was from Scotland, but he was living in Malta at the time.”
“Anderson?” Shay frowned.
Peyton held up a hand. “Absolutely no relationship to Alison’s biological father. Just a coincidence. It’s not a rare name.”
Shay snorted. “This many coincidences make my eyes twitch.”
“You should have a doctor look at that. Anyway, this guy, Anderson—he was a billionaire from arms sales, both magical and conventional. The asshole never met a dictator or a rebel army he didn’t want to sell all sorts of nasty weapons to. I even saw a couple of articles that suggested his disappearance and likely death may have saved millions of lives because it disrupted the supply chain for multiple factions involved in several brutal civil wars. More than a few spy agencies tried to assassinate the guy.”
“And they never found the guy? Even a piece?”
Peyton shook his head. “Nope. He disappeared. Erin came into her money not long after that. I haven’t proven it came from that because it’d take me more than a few hours to hit some billionaire’s ten-year-old records to see if she hid where her money came from.”
Shay shrugged. “I don’t know. She sounds American, not Scottish. Being a redhead doesn’t make her Scottish, and if the CIA, GRU, or MSS wanted to take him down, maybe they did. It’s not like they’d go on the internet and crow about his assassination, especially if it took place in a different country.”
“I know,” Peyton replied. “I’m just saying some of the evidence fits my theory, and it’d explain why she’s so laser-focused on helping refugees. She’s consumed by guilt.”
“So we might be dealing with a self-righteous avenger who wants to spend the rest of her life making up for her father’s mistakes?” Shay started pacing again. “If she has any true inkling of my past, she might want to take me out when this is all over.”
Peyton frowned. “Why? You’ve turned over a new leaf. If she’s gotten into your background at all, she has to understand that.”
Shay laughed and stopped walking. “I think I’ve killed more people as a tomb raider than I did as a professional killer.”
Peyton snort-laughed. “Sure, but you don’t go out of your way to do it now. If the woman is who I think, I doubt she’d come to you if she thought you weren’t alike in some way.” His smile drifted away. “The coincidence about the disappearing Cambodian job is too much, though. That had to have been her. I don’t understand why she pulled the job.”
“I’ve thought about that too.” Shay shrugged.
“Maybe after doing additional background research, she decided you were the only possible choice and gambled on you accepting.” Peyton scratched his chin. “I didn’t mention Aletheia during my initial contact, so it’s not like she just assumed you’d take the job.”
Shay chuckled and shook her head. “It’s almost like when I first started double- and triple-checking clients and trying to make sure I wasn’t going to get ambushed. I used to think every waiter in a restaurant might be a hitman, but now I’m giving public lectures and telling people other than James about my real background. When did I stop being paranoid? I forgot how exhausting it is.”
“Enjoying life isn’t such a bad thing.” Peyton turned in his chair and typed a few commands. “Speaking of old times, it’s been a long time since you’ve had people other than the Professor approach you directly. I’m half-intrigued and half-insulted that she could find your true identity without me becoming aware of it, so don’t get me wrong—I’m a little annoyed by this situation too.”
Shay furrowed her brow. “Setting her past aside, were you able to verify anything else about the job? This might be pointless if there are no ruins for me to raid.”
Peyton nodded. “There’s definitely a newly uncovered site in Cambodia and some recent buzz on the dark web about people planning expeditions to check it out, most of it from the last twenty-four hours. A lot of people aren’t convinced that the withdrawn job offer means anything. I have found a few references to the crystal lance and it being Atlantean in origin, but the best I could do on short notice was find evidence that it was in North Africa a couple thousand years ago. Nothing to connect it to Cambodia.”
“And Durand? Any sign of him?”
Peyton sighed. “If he’s involved, he’s keeping a clean trail, but that’s not new.” He rolled his eyes. “But it’s not like he’s hacking us, so he isn’t better than me.”
Shay smirked. “I care less about your one-sided big-dick contest with him and more about any information on strange symbols that might be Atlantean or Oriceran in conjunction with the lance. I’ve yet to run into that guy when aliens weren’t involved.”
“Nope. Everything suggests it’s an Atlantean artifact from way back. There’s even supposed to be ancient Atlantean writing on it.”
Shay scoffed. “And we’ve found evidence of possible non-Oriceran aliens from hundreds of millions of years back.”
Peyton shrugged. “Sure, but I’m just telling you, there’s no evidence that this artifact is that kind of alien. It’s Oriceran and was brought over when the portals were previously open, best I can tell on short notice.”
Shay sighed. “I’d dive into this shit at Warehouse Four, but we don’t have a lot of time. But if you’re right, why the hell is Durand interested?” She shook her head. “There has to be an alien connection—something we’re just not seeing yet. It wouldn’t be obvious from a surface check.”
“Maybe, or maybe Durand is just doing a side job. Or for all we know, there might be an alien artifact in the ruins besides the lance.” Peyton nodded at his computer screen. “Erin’s job offer might just be a rare case of you getting a little bonus. You can embarrass Durand, make a shitload of money, and get a dangerous artifact away from an asshole you don’t like anyway.”
“I suppose,” Shay replied. “But I’m still concerned that she knew to approach me and that I was Aletheia. That means I’m not keeping as low a profile as I should.”
“She’s a billionaire,” Peyton replied. “She has resources that even a lot of government agencies can’t easily access. Does it bother me that she took us by surprise? Sure. But she also didn’t paradrop in a bunch of mercenaries to kill us or knock on the warehouse door, so we’re still decently hidden.” He sighed. “I wonder if it’s that important for you to keep such a low profile anymore. Same thing I’ve been thinking now that my family situation’s been taken
care of. If I keep edging out of the shadows, in a few years, I might even be a real boy again.”
Shay frowned. “Yeah, but you only had one asshole after you, and we’ve taken care of him. I’ve got a lot of assholes after me. I can’t afford to edge too far out of the shadows.”
“Yeah, you can. You don’t have a lot of assholes after you at all.” Peyton brought up a new article. Erin smiled back from the screen, a beautiful emerald green gown highlighting her pretty face.
The headline read, ERIN NORTH PLEDGES NEW RESOURCES TO MICRONESIAN RESETTLEMENT EFFORTS.
Shay stepped into the office. “Yes, I do. I’m the one getting shot at all the fucking time. It’s not something I forget the minute I return to LA. What the fuck are you talking about when you say I don’t have people after me?”
“You need to sit down and think about it.” Peyton shook his head. He didn’t respond for a moment as he scanned the article. “The cartel that wanted you dead is gone. Kaput. History. I get that they weren’t the only reason you faked your death, but they were one of the main reasons.”
“They weren’t the only ones who wanted to put a few bullets in me.”
“Who? Snegurka is gone, and if she were going to magically pop back up seeking vengeance, you or Lily would have run into her by now.” Peyton shrugged. “The Hollingsworth guys don’t hold those kinds of grudges. Sure, you’ve pissed off a few people here and there, but the nastiest people who actually might have a shot at actually taking you out are all dead. Not only that, your boyfriend is one of the single most badass men in the world, so even if they can track you down, that’s got to play into their calculations.”
One Epic Ring: An Urban Fantasy Action Adventure (The Unbelievable Mr. Brownstone Book 14) Page 8