The Devil's Chord

“I am.”

“Great. What’s the diver’s name?”

“All the information has been gathered in a dossier that will be waiting for you along with the plane ticket.”

“I’ll need two tickets. I’ve got a cameraman.”

“Oh, hmm...”

While Roux considered that one, she gave Ian a thumbs-up and asked, “You want to fly to Venice to film underwater for a few days?”

Ian jumped up eagerly. “I’m in!”

“I’d like him along,” Annja said to Roux. “We’re scouting segments for the TV show.”

“A show which has given me a few knowing smiles and a couple of laughs. Very well, two tickets,” Roux said. “I intend to fly out in a few days. I’m tied up at the moment with, er, details. But fear not. I wouldn’t miss this discovery.”

“That’s it? Just a cross?”

Much as she knew artifacts related to Joan were a love of Roux’s, Annja found it hard to believe he’d invest in a mission simply to bring up a little memento that should by rights be returned directly to the museum from which it had been stolen.

“Just a cross,” Roux replied. “Have a good rest on the flight, Annja. See you in a few days.”

He hung up, and it occurred to Annja that he hadn’t told her when the flight departed.

“Soon,” she guessed.

The airport was a good hour’s drive to the south. The flight to Venice shouldn’t be more than ninety minutes if direct.

In the parking lot behind Ian, a black limo suddenly arrived. The limo driver got out of the expensive vehicle, introduced himself and informed her he was at her beck and call.

“Leave it to Roux to control me like a puppet,” she muttered.

“You were expecting this?” Ian asked.

“Nope. But it’s not a surprise. We’ll head back to the hotel, pack and then on to the airport.”

“But what about the selkies?”

Annja glanced to Matteo. He’d curled onto his side, apparently sleeping off the effects of the alcohol as well as her punch. “We’ll swing by after Venice. But I have a feeling if there is a pelt, it’ll never be found. Too bad for Sirena.”

“Maybe we should call a women’s shelter?”

Annja ran her hands through her hair. She was dirty and tired and yet exhilarated about the new assignment that lay before her.

“Yes, good idea, Ian.”

And then she smiled widely. Sleep? She’d worry about that on the flight like Roux suggested.

“I should let Doug know about our new plans.”

Her producer would probably research every Venetian myth to see if he could come up with a good episode idea for Annja to look into. If she had the time while she was there, she’d be all for it.

The twosome slid into the back of the limo, and the driver offered champagne, which Ian accepted. Annja refused. She was already mentally preparing for the next leg of the trip. It would take five minutes to pack her things because she generally traveled simply, always ready for just such spur-of-the-moment trips.

“On to my next adventure.”

Chapter 3 (#ulink_429d6711-1162-5a11-8638-e9f0031a235b)

Roux had purchased her a seat in first class, though Annja wouldn’t award him brownie points. Ian’s seat was back in economy. The cameraman took the news with his usual good-natured attitude, knowing he’d been a last-minute add-on. Besides, economy was not filled to capacity, so he planned to snag a row of seats in the back and lay down to sleep through the flight.

The dossier was handed to Annja in a sealed envelope when she received her ticket. Once the plane was in flight, she pored over the information, which was sparse.

The man she was to dive with, Scout Roberts, was a former archaeologist who’d been stripped of his tenure at his university after he’d been involved in a sketchy dig in Peru. The operation had resulted in the unsolved deaths of two crew members. He’d insisted poisonous gases had leaked from the cave walls, yet a forensic team hadn’t found any trace of poison. He’d disappeared approximately five years ago and apparently hadn’t been seen or heard from since. He’d stopped publishing and there wasn’t a phone number or address for him. He’d turned himself into a ghost.

But ghosts didn’t accept offers to dive for lost treasure. He had to have a reason for accepting the invite from Roux. Unless cash was the motivator?

“Could be,” she muttered, knowing Roux’s pockets were deep.

Even deeper, though, was Roux’s love for Joan and anything associated with her. The cross qualified on that score and was likely enough to spur his interest in the artifact. It would probably only look good under glass or on one of the walls in Roux’s château.

The fact that Roux had brought her in on the job also didn’t make sense if he intended to keep the artifact.

“Very odd...”

Flipping over the single page in the dossier, Annja was surprised that was all the information he had. Apparently, Roux knew little about Scout Roberts. Where had he found him? On a street corner? While strolling a stretch of the French countryside in search of treasure?

Annja smiled remembering how she had first met Roux. It had been on just such a stretch in the French countryside. In the Cévennes mountain area in search of a loup-garou, she had stumbled upon a hiker, who’d told her he was after something that was lost.

She’d thought Roux a curious old man who possessed the strength of many, an agility that belied his age and a charm that had won her over despite his obvious nefarious dealings. Over an initial get-to-know-each-other meal, she recalled thinking how the twinkle in his eyes could mean trouble for her. And she hadn’t been wrong.

When they’d finally found the lost item he’d been looking for, it had been the final piece to Joan of Arc’s sword.

Who would have thought that meeting Roux would have led to her owning a sword that once belonged to Joan of Arc, and to a love-hate friendship with a man who had seen and done so much?

At times Roux was harsh and insistent, in it for himself and yet always on mark and aware. He may look old, but the man was agile and swift and could expertly handle any weapon he got his hands on. After she’d claimed the sword, he had mentored her and taught her how to handle the blade correctly and efficiently. At times, he felt very much like a father to her.

But Annja always cautioned herself against letting her guard down completely around the man. At times, Roux allied with Garin Braden. He’d been tied to Roux since Joan’s burning back in the fifteenth century. Braden was another man who possessed the same in-it-for-himself attitude as the older man. And he was not beyond lying to her to get what he wanted.

So that left Scout Roberts as a possible ally in this new adventure. A ghost working for a person of questionable integrity.

Annja shook her head as she perused the sketchy details she held.

She’d worked with strangers before. The nature of her work—traveling to foreign countries, traveling to the middle of nowhere to dig in the dry, dusty dirt—led to interactions with all sorts. Unwilling to pre-judge someone she had never met, she looked forward to meeting Scout and delving into the mystery of how he’d gotten involved with Roux.

Setting aside the dossier, she settled into the cozy first-class nest and pulled up the blanket to her forehead. She wanted to be in top form when she arrived in Venice.

* * *