Ren took over. “The working theory is that The Conductor is taking advantage of Gemini March's obsession with you in order to secure the evidence you’ve compiled.”
Cam nodded in understanding. “And once he has the evidence, I meet with an unfortunate accident on my romantic getaway.”
“As an added bonus, Atlas March goes down for trying to ship heroin without paying the piper,” Ren added.
“And The Conductor is nowhere in sight.” Cam finished the thought.
“He doesn’t have the evidence yet, but he will shortly.” Tox clapped the table.
“What does that mean?” Cam questioned.
Tox gave Cam's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Let's just say my brother, Miles, and Nathan are approaching this from another angle. They think you, with a little help from the team, can bring this whole house of cards crashing down.”
Cam checked the time. “I better get back.”
Twitch peeked over her laptop. “We’ll keep an eye on you.”
CHAPTER FORTY
Washington, DC
December 14
H
arlan Musgrave stepped out of the shower and smelled coffee. That was odd. He had spoken to his wife the night before; she was still in Florida, and he was usually out the door before the housekeeping staff arrived. Perhaps Maria has set the timer on the machine. Donning a tan suit and red tie, Musgrave trotted down the central staircase and walked back to the kitchen.
A man Musgrave had never seen was sitting at the granite island sipping coffee from a travel mug and scanning a paper copy of The Washington Post. A momentary thought flashed through Musgrave's head that he was in the wrong house. Sanity quickly returned.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Musgrave demanded.
“Good morning, Senator.” The man set the newspaper aside.
There was a security panic button on the wall within reach, but Musgrave waited.
“Do I need to repeat myself?” he demanded.
“I have a message for you from The Conductor. The progress you have made retrieving the items is unacceptable.”
Musgrave tried valiantly to look like he wasn’t terrified. “It's being handled.”
The man finished the coffee, refilled the mug, and returned his attention to Musgrave. “You have seventy-two hours, or The Conductor will be forced to explore alternative avenues.” He folded the newspaper, tucked it under his arm, and, coffee in hand, walked out the back door.
Musgrave checked through the window to make sure the man was gone, then he slid down the wall onto the kitchen floor and cried.
Senator Musgrave sat behind his old, storied desk in the coveted corner suite in the Russell Senate Office Building. He was uncharacteristically short-tempered.
Rather than use the intercom, Musgrave simply shouted toward the door. “Arlo, where the hell is that slick bastard?”
The heavy door opened wide enough for a face, and Arlo poked his head into the room. “Security just alerted me that he's in the building. He should be here any minute.”
“Send him straight through. I don’t have time for this shit,” Musgrave barked.
“Of course, sir.” Arlo frowned at his boss's unusual tone and retracted his head.
A moment later, the distinguished man, carrying a leather briefcase and dressed in yet another impeccable suit, stood in the doorway. He entered and took the seat opposite Musgrave's desk without being prompted.
“About time,” Musgrave snapped.
In a blatant show of disrespect, Caleb Cain crossed his legs and pulled his phone out of his breast pocket to check his texts.
“I was in D.C. on another matter,” he tossed out. “You’re lucky I could come as quickly as I did.” He made a show of checking the time on the Breitling that circled his wrist.
“The timeline has shortened. I need Canto's journal and flash drive yesterday.”
At the look of surprise on Caleb Cain's face, Musgrave huffed, “What? You think I shouldn’t discuss business in my office? Trust me; this is by far the safest place. The Feds can bug my townhouse; they can listen in at a table in a restaurant or capture a conversation in a park. But here? Do you know how hard it is to surveil the office of a United States Senator? Shit, I could plan to assassinate that asshole up the street,” he jerked his head in the direction of The White House, “and nobody would ever know.”
The senator withdrew a bottle of bourbon from the bottom drawer of his desk and doctored his coffee. “Snort?” He pointed the bottle at Cain.
“No.”
“Where are you with this?”
Without missing a beat, Caleb Cain pulled the briefcase onto his lap and, touching his thumbs to the biometric locks, opened it. He placed the worn leather book on the desk.
Musgrave flipped through the diary pages; it was quite obviously the evidence The Conductor was eager to destroy.
“The flash drive is in the spine,” Cain explained.
Musgrave felt along the binding and withdrew the device. “Have you watched it?”
Caleb Cain nodded. “To confirm the contents.”
“Outstanding.” Musgrave opened his own briefcase and placed the items inside. Then, he turned and withdrew a small laptop from the wall safe behind him. “You prefer Bitcoin, as I recall from our conversation.”
The fixer handed him a slip of paper. “Here are the transfer instructions.”
Musgrave pecked away on the keyboard while Cain rechecked his messages.
“There's talk about the ship in that video. The Maestro.” Cain threw out.
“You don’t strike me as a man who trades in idle gossip.” Musgrave kept his attention on the laptop.
“So, The Conductor is a myth?” Cain pressed.
“A fiction. You’d be wise to remember that,” Musgrave warned.
“There have been a lot of rumblings over the years.”
The senator stopped typing and looked up. “There's an expression on the farm. Don’t piss upstream of the herd. Protect your revenue sources, Cain. Speculation like that doesn’t do anybody any good.”
Effectively chastised, Cain returned to his phone. Three minutes later, their business was concluded.
At the door, Musgrave placed a hand on Caleb's shoulder. “You’ve done very well. I’m sure I’ll be in touch.”
“Actually,” Cain commented, his arrogant demeanor returning, “I’m retiring.”
Musgrave scanned the man's face. “That's a shame. It's hard to find reliable help these days.”
Cain was impassive. “There are plenty of others who do what I do.”
Musgrave snorted. The fixer had cast his rod fishing for a compliment. Musgrave wasn’t biting. “True enough. Take care of yourself, Cain.”
Closing the door, Musgrave returned to his desk. He had calls to make.
Constitution Avenue was bustling as Miles Buchanan made his way out of The Russell Senate Office Building, slowly shedding the persona of Caleb Cain as he walked. He made a quick right onto Delaware Avenue and cut across the Senate Park. Twenty yards in, Nathan peeled away from a coffee kiosk and moved in next to him. Walking abreast, the men continued on their path.
“Everything go as planned?” Nathan asked.
“Better,” Miles replied. “The little gadget worked like a charm.”
The device to which Miles referred was the remote cloning device Twitch had fine-tuned for this meeting. Musgrave would assume it was a phone. Miles simply had to sync the tech to Musgrave's WiFi, which he did—with a bit of help from Twitch—when he first sat down, then wait for the Senator to access his hidden financial accounts. Miles had pretended to check messages while Musgrave made the bitcoin transfer. In reality, he was watching the progress bar showing the successful mirroring of the hard drive.
“Outstanding. Let's cut over to D Street. I have a car waiting.” Nathan motioned to his right, and they continued.
“Where are we headed?” Miles asked.
“Our former
parent company, Knightsgrove-Bishop. Their cybersecurity people rival—”
“The Pentagon?” Miles supplied.
Nathan replied, “I was going to say they rival Twitch, but yours works. Come on. Let's send that rat Musgrave back to the sewer.”
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Valldemossa, Mallorca
December 14
E
van closed the door to her bedroom and slid to the floor. Miguel was some sort of government agent? He was on some kind of mission? What could possibly be amiss on this Arcadian island? Miguel wasn’t Miguel at all.
While the thought chilled her, it certainly explained a lot.
A soft knock on her door had her pushing to her feet, her surprise evident when she glimpsed the man standing in the hallway.
“Mr. Nabeel?” Evan said.
“Please, call me Joseph.” He smiled.
“What can I do for you?” she asked.
“Forgive the late hour. Is this a bad time?” Joseph scanned the small room, his eyes coming to rest on her open computer and the paper notes scattered on her cluttered desk.
“Not at all, please.” Evan gestured to the only other seat in the room, a small tufted stool at her dressing table. Joseph sat.
“Do you remember our dinner conversation?” he asked.
“Of course. You have an interest in Moorish artifacts,” Evan replied.
“Interest may be downplaying it a bit. I’m afraid my fascination with my culture borders on obsession,” Joseph commented.
“I know a few archaeologists who suffer from the same condition,” she nodded, amused.
Joseph smiled. “Yes, I’m afraid there is no cure.” He tapped his fingers on the glass-topped dressing table. “Have you ever heard the story of The Panther's Eye?”
Evan furrowed her brow. “I don’t believe so.”
He leaned forward and interlaced his fingers between his knees. “Near the end of the Fifteenth Century, a famed Moorish King ruled in Northern Algeria. The village where I was born was the seat of his land. After defeating an invading army, the king took possession of a gem. The story goes that the gem was a massive yellow diamond.”
“The Panther's Eye,” she rightly guessed.
“Exactly.” Joseph continued, “The king planned to cut the diamond to fit a medallion and declared the talisman would bring prosperity to his people for centuries to come.”
Evan nodded, rapt.
“In 1478, the Spanish king launched Christian crusaders to the region to destroy the Moors. Knowing he could not repel the sizable and well-funded forces, the Moorish King fled, and the people of his realm scattered.”
On a deep inhale, Joseph went on. “He boarded a ship with a skeleton crew in the dark of night, attempting to flee to Turkey. Perhaps he intended to hide his treasure on Mallorca, knowing the Moors in power would help him, or, more likely, the ship was blown off course in a violent storm. Either way, the oral history and a map and letters from the king and the crew all indicate The Panther's Eye was hidden on Mallorca. The king had placed The Panther's Eye in a golden box with the medallion that would one day hold the jewel.”
Evan gasped.
Joseph turned to face her fully. “So you see, my dear, why I have come.”
“You think at some point a diamond was in the box I discovered,” she said.
“Not just a diamond,” he clarified. “The Panther's Eye is estimated to be a two hundred and eighty-carat gem. When cut, the estimated size is ninety carats. It would be the largest yellow diamond ever discovered. Its worth is inestimable.”
“Would you like to examine the box? Dr. Emberton has it in a safe in his room,” Evan offered.
“I have seen it. It is the exact box described in our lore.”
“Minus the diamond.”
Joseph clenched his jaw. “Yes. I believe that my diamond is near your discovery site. It's possible it fell from the box or was removed, but I’m sure it is still hidden. Assuming you haven’t found it and hidden it away.”
His tone was joking, but Evan heard the suspicion in the comment.
“If someone had found it already, surely we would have heard about such a momentous discovery,” Evan replied, ignoring the accusation.
“Yes, exactly. That is why I believe my diamond still may be at the location where you found the box,” he stated.
Evan opened her laptop and brought up the mapping software she had used. Joseph stared over her shoulder. “It's here. Navigating the cave system is tricky, but it's also accessible through the mine. Can you believe how close it is to the March Mining tunnels?”
Joseph stared intently at the screen. “Yes, that is unexpected.” Evan couldn’t miss the barely leashed anger in his voice.
“I’ll take you there tomorrow. Omar can assemble a team, and we can examine the mound. There is still quite a large area that I have yet to excavate.”
Joseph expelled an audible breath, relieved. “That would be wonderful. Thank you.”
“Of course. Archaeologists restore history. It would be my privilege to help.” She pressed her palms together. “Just the idea of unearthing such a magnificent stone…”
Joseph squeezed her shoulder and turned toward the door. “Well, it won’t be so glamorous. The uncut gem looks hardly more interesting than a big rock. If you didn’t know what it was, one could easily cast it aside. I’ll call Omar and set a time for the morning. Thank you, my dear.”
“You’re welcome.”
Joseph turned back to her at the doorway. “You know, I have been looking for The Panther's Eye for almost thirty years. Then, out of the blue, Gemini brings a man with yellow eyes to the house. I knew it was a sign.” He disappeared into the hallway before she could respond.
She closed the door and leaned against it. His words were benign enough, but something about the encounter felt threatening. Was he even aware he was referring to it as his diamond?
Evan walked two steps toward her small desk and stopped. The uncut gem looks hardly more interesting than a big rock… a man with yellow eyes… cast it aside… Suddenly she remembered the rock Miguel had pulled out and tossed on the ground, assuming it was a weight to prevent the box from washing away should the cave flood with the tides.
“Oh my God.” Her knees buckled, and she sat on the bed.
Miguel had found The Panther's Eye.
And thrown it away.
Evan stepped to her balcony doors and peeked around the curtain. Joseph's car was just pulling away. She started to grab her gear when she remembered the guard patrolling the beach. If he caught her this time, Joseph would surely know she was up to something. She’d have to sneak in through the mine. With coveralls from the excavation site and her spelunking helmet, Evan could blend in with the miners and hide her face from the security cameras. With a rudimentary plan in place, all she could do now was wait.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Miramar, Mallorca
December 14
T
he March Villa was quiet when Cam walked in the front door at half-past nine. He walked through the empty house and into his bedroom. Candlelight on the terrace caught his eye.
He stood in the doorway and spotted Gemini, sitting at the small table in a black negligee. Other than the color she wore, the setting felt like deja vu. A bottle of champagne rested in an ice bucket between two tapers, a beer next to it. Gemini refilled her flute then poured the beer into a glass.
“Welcome home, darling. Now we can pick up where we left off.” Gemini gave him her most seductive smile.
Cam sauntered over and took the empty seat. He swallowed down half the beer, poured the rest, and scanned her body. “No more modeling emergencies?”
“My work is actually quite demanding. Most people dismiss it, but you’d be surprised at all the working parts: photoshoots, interviews, runway shows, social media. Never a dull moment.” She sipped her drink. “I gave the chef and the staff the night off. We can raid the refrigerator later if we nee
d sustenance.”
Cam downed the rest of the beer and lost his balance, nearly tipping backward in the chair. He shook his head to clear the sudden fog. “What is this?”
“You’ll see. We’re going to have a little fun tonight. Let me help you to the bed before you pass out. You’re too big to carry.” Gemini rose from her seat.
Cam staggered to standing, swept his arm out, and knocked the beer glass to the terrace where it shattered on the flagstone.
Gemini tsked. “Save that passion for later.” She came around the table and pulled him inside. Cam stumbled along and collapsed on the bed. He watched through blurred vision as Gemini hauled up one of his legs, then the other. She took a syringe from the pocket of her robe and injected something into his arm. She leaned down and whispered in his ear. “You rest while that kicks in. Tonight, I’m going to remind you just how good we are together.”
After commandeering an ATV and a set of coveralls from the dig site, Evan had driven to March Mining. It was just after midnight, and the last shift of miners was filtering out. Deciding the pack would be too conspicuous, she grabbed a flashlight and shoved it into the deep side pocket. Just as she was about to walk to the front entrance, she noticed a group of miners entering the mine through a smaller side entrance.
She had thought Miguel had said the last crew finished at midnight, but they must have added a shift. Keeping back a safe distance, she followed them into the tunnel. The men all turned and ducked under a chain barricading part of the mine. Evan continued on and then stopped. From thirty feet away, she could hear talking and laughter from the storeroom. Damnit. She hoped the men weren’t planning another all-night party. Voices at the entrance to the storeroom had her retracing her steps and ducking under the security chain. She peered around the corner and assessed her options. Suddenly, a large hand covered her mouth; another encircled her waist and lifted her off the ground. The man carried her down a series of tunnels, through a steel fire door, and into a room that looked like some kind of lab. What is this place? Before she could look around, she was thrown to the ground, her forehead hitting the concrete.
Buried Beneath Page 20