Clive Cussler - Pirate

“I’d like to make sure we’re alive to give our statements. How do we get back inside?”

“The easiest and quickest way,” Miss Walsh said, “is back the way we came. But they took my key card.”

“I have one,” Remi said, holding up her purse. “Borrowed it from another employee.”

“That’s my girl.” He climbed the stairs, then stopped at the top, waited to make sure it was clear, then motioned the others to come up. “Straight to the other door,” he said, bringing up the rear.

They filed in, Sam not relaxing until the door was shut tight behind them.

“We’ll head to the security offices,” Miss Walsh said. “We’ll be safe there until the police arrive.”

“This document they took,” Sam asked her as they walked, “did you happen to get a good look at it?”

“It was a pen-and-ink sketch.”

“Of what?”

“A round object with symbols on it. I must have seen it back when I first started cataloguing the Herbert Collection because I knew right away what he was talking about when he described it.”

“Any chance you might remember any of the symbols on it?”

“Unfortunately, no. Sorry.”

Hours later, Sam and Remi finally returned to their hotel room, exhausted. Side by side on the bed, they stared up at the ceiling. Remi reached over, grasping Sam’s fingers. “I can’t believe we were that close.”

“A good effort. Just not good enough.”

“How is it that he’s been one step ahead of us?”

A good question, Sam thought. They’d stopped the leak. Archer had assured him that Bree had not contacted her cousin since they confirmed she’d been the source. And still they were constantly behind with every step they took. “They did have several days’ head start.”

“Maybe Selma has some news for us.”

“You want to call or should I?”

When Remi didn’t answer, he looked over at her. She was fast asleep. He watched her for several moments, thinking about the mixed emotions of that night’s events. He knew Fisk never intended to let them walk out of there, and while Sam wasn’t about to simply give up and die without a fight, he’d been okay knowing that Remi was outside and safe. At least until Ivan dragged her into the room.

His lovely wife had risked her own life to rescue him. And she’d had the brains to grab a weapon in the process.

He listened to the sound of her even breathing as she slept next to him and he smiled in the dark, thinking about the way she’d insisted that she be allowed to put on her shoes.

“Good one, Remi,” he whispered.

She stirred slightly but didn’t waken.

When he woke, it was to the sound of the phone ringing. He opened his eyes, surprised to see sunlight through the window, his fog-filled brain trying to remember where they even were. Hotel, he realized as Remi blindly reached for her cell phone, then put it to her ear, her voice hoarse as she said, “Hello…? Wait… What?”

“Who is it?” Sam asked.

“Miss Walsh.” She propped herself on one elbow listening, then turned to Sam. “She knows where to find that circle with the symbols.”

How could we have been so blind?” Remi asked.

“Easy,” Sam said, hitting the gas harder. The long stretch of country road before them was empty, which made the getting there that much faster. He checked his mirrors, even though he was fairly confident that they weren’t being followed. Why would they be? Fisk had gotten what he came for. “It was hidden in plain sight, and we weren’t looking in the right place.”

Or, rather, when they were looking, they didn’t know what they were looking at. They did now, and he only hoped that they hadn’t made a grave mistake by chasing after the false lead at the museum.

They made good time, and Sam relaxed slightly as he turned onto the dirt road that led to Grace Herbert-Miller’s farm. As before, the chickens scattered as they pulled up in front, the geese honked, and the few goats that had wandered up to the split-rail fence bleated their arrival.

Sam and Remi walked across the graveled drive to the cottage, their footsteps crunching beneath them. No one was approaching this farm without being noticed, Sam thought as he knocked on the front door.

There was no answer.

He stepped back, glanced up at the chimney. No smoke. “Maybe we should have a look around. Make sure everything’s okay.”

Remi nodded but didn’t comment. He knew she was thinking the same thing he was. Something had happened to the Herbert-Millers.

They walked around to the side, the brick path thick with moss, making it slippery in some areas. Diamond-paned windows reflected the sunlight as they passed, the white lace curtains inside preventing Sam from seeing in. Around back, a well-tended vegetable garden was fenced off, but a few chickens had found their way in, pecking for grubs between rows of carrots and celery.

Two steps led up to the back door, painted forest green, and Sam noticed fresh gouges in the wood near the lock as though someone had recently tried — or managed — to gain entry. “Not what I was hoping to see.”

“Definitely not,” Remi replied.

He was just reaching for the handle when he heard the loud chorus of chickens, geese, and goats out front, followed by the sound of a car’s tires on the gravel drive.

“That,” Remi said, “is one heck of an alarm. Maybe we should look into getting one ourselves.”

“I’m not sure Zoltán could resist the temptation of fresh chicken for lunch.”

“Good point.”

They retraced their steps, Sam taking the lead. At the front of the house, he signaled for Remi to wait as he peaked around the corner. Grace Herbert-Miller was getting out of the front passenger seat of a late-model blue Fiat that had pulled up behind their rental car. Judging from her red and black flowered dress, black wool coat, and the small black hat with red buds decorating one side, she’d just returned from church.

What he didn’t see was her husband.

Not wanting to alarm the woman, he waved Remi forward, and together they walked out to greet her as she said good-bye to the driver.

She saw them and smiled. “Mr. and Mrs. Fargo. I certainly wasn’t expecting you today…”

“Mrs. Herbert-Miller,” Sam said, smiling in return. “Sorry to drop in unexpectedly. I was hoping to have a word with you and your husband. Is he home?”

“Unfortunately, no. He left early this morning to visit his brother, who’s been quite under the weather. But do come in.”

She started for the front door. Sam reached out and touched her arm. “Actually,” he said, “I’m a little worried that someone might have broken into your house.”

Surprisingly, she laughed, then started forward again, pulling her keys from her purse. “I doubt that. We’re so far out in the country, who would waste their time? It’s not like there’s anything of value in there.”

“Even so, it looks like someone may have gone in through the back door.”

Together, the three walked around to the back, and Sam pointed out the gouges in the wood by the lock.

“Oh dear.”

He reached out, opened the door. “It was locked, I assume.”

She nodded but said nothing.

“I’m sure they’re gone,” he said. “But, frankly, I’d rather not take any chances.”

“It will take forever before the police arrive. We’re so far out.”

“I can check while you call from Remi’s cell phone.”

“Please.”

He pushed the door open, listening a moment before entering. Behind him, he heard Remi saying, “Don’t worry. He’s very good at this.”

Then Grace replying, “Why would anyone break in?”