John Sneeden: The Hades Conspiracy

After tossing his keys to a valet attendant, Zane crossed the mushy sidewalk and opened the brass-framed door. The noisy din of the main dining area rushed to meet him.

A petite brunette hostess approached. “Good to see you, Mr. Watson.”

“Good to see you, Kaitlyn. I assume my fearless leader is already here.”

“He is.” After mumbling something into her headset, she led him through the main dining area and past the atrium seating. As she neared a door along the left wall, she turned toward him. “It must be something important because all he wanted was water.”

Zane lifted an eyebrow. “It’s Friday, and he didn’t order cognac? Someone must have died.”

Kaitlyn giggled as she opened the door and waved him in. “Enjoy your evening.”

“Watson, you’re nine minutes late.” The Oracle was seated at the far end of the table, his face lit by the screen of his laptop. Amanda Higgs and Carmen Petrosino sat on the left. Zane often referred to them as salt and pepper. Amanda had long, straight blond hair, while Carmen, an Italian by birth, had long raven hair and olive skin. As he came in, Carmen gave him a salute while Amanda looked up from her phone and gave him a little wave.

“I don’t recall committing to a time.” Zane shut the door behind him, tossed his coat onto a nearby hanger, and took a seat at the near end of the table. “And I’m doing fine. Thanks for asking.”

“The ladies got here nine minutes ago. That means you’re nine minutes late.”

“Watch out,” Carmen said. “He’s a little prickly tonight.”

“I see that. Sad what happens to the man when he abstains from cognac.”

The Oracle removed his reading glasses. “Perhaps later, Watson.”

“I’m proud of you for setting aside your usual routine. I’m assuming it’s the heavy subject matter.”

“That’s mostly it.” He patted his belly. “Although I must admit Helen has made a few choice remarks about my expanding midsection, so I may be on a health kick for a while.”

“Expanding midsection?” Zane laughed. “You might weigh one fifty if you hold a medicine ball.”

“You know Helen… It’s always something.”

The door opened, allowing in a rush of noise from the atrium. A thirty-something blond server crossed the room and set glasses of wine in front of Amanda and Carmen. She turned toward Zane. “Can I get you anything?”

“Guinness draft, please.”

“Certainly.”

After the server walked out, the Oracle said, “No flirtatious remark for the new waitress, Watson? You’re disappointing us.”

Zane shook his head. “First, you tell me I’m late for a meeting with no start time, and now, you’ve shifted to the personal insults. You’re in rare form tonight.”

Carmen looked at the Oracle. “You must not have heard the news. Your senior operative has changed his ways.”

The Oracle tossed his glasses on the table and leaned forward. “What news?”

Amanda looked up from her phone, her mouth lifting into a grin. “You didn’t know?” She nodded at Zane. “He’s currently involved with a certain world-renowned anthropologist.”

The Oracle’s eyes narrowed. “Dr. Mills?”

“The one and only,” Carmen said.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

Carmen laughed. “He’s only been to New York every other weekend for the last several months. Did you think that was for pastramis?”

The Oracle shifted his gaze to Zane. “Does this mean you’re abandoning your role as our resident bimbo whisperer?”

“Dr. Ross!” Amanda scolded him. “I haven’t seen his head turn once since we got back from Brazil.”

Zane wondered how he should respond. No one knew about the recent breakup, not even Carmen. Now might be a good time to fill them in since there wouldn’t be time for questions and answers. “Actually, we’re actually no longer an item.”

Carmen’s face morphed into a frown. She seemed troubled at the news. “What? You’re joking, right?”

Zane shook his head.

She held his gaze for a moment. “We need to talk later.”

“So sorry, Zane,” Amanda said. “You know how much we all love Katiya.”

The door opened again. The server entered and deposited Zane’s beer. As far as he was concerned, she couldn’t have arrived at a better time. He would probably talk things over with Carmen later, but now certainly wasn’t the time.

“All joking aside,” the Oracle said after the server departed, “I’m sorry things didn’t work with Dr. Mills. I don’t know her well, but I do know she’s a quality human being and a heck of an archaeologist.”

“Anthropologist,” Amanda said.

“Whatever.”

“I agree,” Zane said. “She’s a special lady.”

The Oracle’s expression turned more serious. He pulled a small notepad from his suit pocket. “Earlier this afternoon, I had an impromptu meeting with the director of the FBI.” He read something on the top page then looked at Amanda. “Are you familiar with an archaeologist named Dr. Richard Pauling?”

“Of course,” Amanda said.

Zane didn’t recognize the name but wasn’t surprised Amanda knew him. A former faculty member at the University of Texas at Austin, she’d been a rising star in the field of archaeology prior to coming on board with Delphi. She’d come to their attention while assisting Delphi in investigating the death of her father, Ian Higgs. During the operation, she’d performed with poise and passion that didn’t go unnoticed by all involved.

For his part, the Oracle preferred hiring operatives with at least some scientific expertise. In that regard, Amanda had fit the bill perfectly. A courtship ensued, with a deal finally being reached which would allow her to work for Delphi and keep her job in academia. While they weren’t completely happy with the arrangement, Amanda’s supervisors at UT agreed to let her have a reduced role at the school. She would teach two classes, both in the fall, and she would make herself available to supervise various digs. She would also continue to publish research papers in order to maintain her standing in the field.

“We don’t have many rock stars in archaeology,” Amanda continued, “but Dr. Pauling certainly is one. He’s made some of the world’s most important discoveries — artifacts that even most laypeople would be familiar with.” Her brows pinched together. “He used to be a professor of Near East archaeology at UCLA. Last I heard, he was doing private work in Spain, Italy, somewhere like that.”

“He’s been living in Venice for the last three years,” the Oracle said.

Carmen smiled. “He’s living in Venezia ? Please tell me we’re going to meet with him there.”

“We’ve been in touch with one of Dr. Pauling’s colleagues.” The Oracle shifted his gaze to Amanda. “Do you recognize the name Andrew Rust?”

“I do,” she replied. “I’m not quite as familiar with him, but he wrote one of the textbooks I used in undergrad. If I’m remembering correctly, he’s a professor of Near Eastern archaeology just like Dr. Pauling.”

The Oracle nodded. “They were colleagues at UCLA for the better part of two decades. Rust said they were extremely close during that time, even away from campus. They worked out at the same gym, frequented the same restaurants in Santa Monica, and even worked together at a few major archaeological sites.

“About four years ago, Pauling’s parents died. From all indications, they were loaded. We’re talking major dollars. And guess what? Pauling was an only child.”

“I remember hearing about that,” Amanda said. “After getting his inheritance, Pauling moved off to work on his own. There were whispers he traded on the black market, although I can’t say for sure.”