Alex Archer - The Devil's Chord

“No, you won’t,” Scout confirmed confidently. He slapped a wet palm against his suit, and the spray of water misted Annja’s face. “I know that show. They do monsters. We’re not monster hunting, Creed.”

“No, but we are diving for buried treasure. I’ve occasionally featured lost treasures on the show.”

“Yeah, I don’t know about that.” The man hooked a hand at his hip, glaring at Ian for a while. “I wasn’t even expecting you, Creed, until I got the call from Roux last night. A babysitter I can deal with. But no camera crew is getting in our way. The canal is relatively shallow and narrow and we don’t have the space.”

“The camera crew consists of one,” Annja corrected him, “and you don’t get a say in his being here. Roux approved it.” Buying the extra plane ticket was as good an approval as any. “You’ve already completed a dive this morning?”

“Nothing official. Just stuck my head down to get a lay of the land, or canal, if you will.” Scout addressed Ian. “If you get in my way—”

Annja stepped between the men. “He’s a professional and has filmed while diving in Venice before. And you’re out of line. Can we agree to keep things genial, since we must trust one another to have our backs while underwater?”

Scout whistled and turned his back to them. Let him pout about it, she thought. If Mr. Cocky couldn’t handle another diver on this team then Annja would take the lead, if necessary. Until then, she would stand back and let him run this show. For the most part.

“Scout?” she prompted him for a reply.

“Yeah, yeah.” He swept a dismissive hand behind him. A poor agreement, but she imagined it killed him to show that much assent.

“So this is the correct area?” she asked, hoping to settle both mens’ ire by changing the subject.

“According to the few details I’ve read about the heist, it should be,” Scout said.

He unzipped the wet suit to reveal defined pecs and abs that again made him appear much younger than Annja had expected. Sitting on the bench before her, he bent to pull off his fins. She couldn’t deny he was a handsome blond, with blue eyes and a sweet dimple that poked into his left cheek with each smile. Judging from his looks and quick wit, she’d bet he had no trouble making friends almost anywhere. But could he be trusted? His response to Ian being there didn’t bode well, or maybe she was being too paranoid.

Still, a hotshot? She could deal with that. Might prove more interesting than some of the shy academics she’d spent weeks with on a dig.

“And what are the few details?” she asked. “I’m afraid I’m at a disadvantage. After Roux contacted me, I immediately hopped on a plane to Venice.”

“You at the man’s beck and call?” Scout cast her a curious glance. “Thought you were more independent. I’ve heard of you. Recognized you the minute I surfaced. Annja Creed, the host of her own TV show. A world-famous archaeologist. Author—”

“Roux’s a friend,” Annja interrupted. “Most of the time. And we both share an interest in Joan of Arc artifacts and history.”

“So do I.” Scout stood and gestured to Kard, who tossed him a bottle of beer that he’d taken from a mini-fridge. “More so on the da Vinci stuff, but I like a good saintly knickknack any day.”

“Whatever will earn you a few bucks, eh?”

“Creed, please. You calling me a treasure hunter?”

“I’ll reserve judgment. But what’s in it for you? What is Roux paying you for this job?”

“I don’t share salary information, sweetie. Would you?”

Salary? From Roux? That was a joke. She’d be lucky if he didn’t stiff her with the hotel bill. She might have to call Doug yet. “Sorry, that was crass.”

“If it matters, I approached Roux. I overheard him discussing Joan’s history at an auction, and having been studying this theft-gone-wrong for a few months and yet not put together the budget to recover the lost relics, I sought Roux out. Wanted to see if he’d like to invest in something that would net a valuable artifact for him.”

“So you’re just going on the dive for the thrill?”

“And the fame, of course. Maybe a spot on your show?” he added.

“As you pointed out, we only feature monsters. You fall into that category, Roberts?”

“Me? No way. I’m as harmless as they come.” He gave her a wide, warm smile and took a long drink of his beer.

“Again, I’ll reserve judgment.”

Yeah, the man would be able to work fame like a pro, she guessed. But with his background? If he were seeking fame, that didn’t jibe with the dossier that marked him a pariah among his fellow archaeologists.

“Why don’t you two suit up?” Scout said. “Then I’ll show you the maps.”

Chapter 4

Scout hadn’t expected that someone would be scrutinizing his every move while he recovered the case. But he could live with it. Actually, he could use the backup when diving. And the backup was gorgeous. That would make the day go a little faster.

But the cameraman?

Scout shot a look toward Ian Tate, who pulled on a wet suit as he chatted with Kard about the tidal flows in and out of the canal. Scout had found Kard and hired him late last evening. The boat wasn’t the greatest, biggest or best, but it was cheap and would ferry them around the canal safely, and Kard seemed reasonably able, even with a few beers down his gullet. While he wasn’t footing the bill, Scout did like to keep expenses to a minimum. Fat bills attracted questions.

With luck, this operation should prove an in-and-out foray. Even with the close proximity to the sea, Scout didn’t suspect the tides could have moved the lost treasure that far. Or he hoped they had not.

Too bad the tides weren’t so rough they could wash a cameraman out to sea.

“You want a beer?” he asked Ian.

The cameraman shook his head. “You crazy, man? We’re getting ready to dive.”

Scout shrugged. It had been worth a try.

* * *

SO ROBERTS WAS the one who had gone to Roux with the information about the Lorraine cross. Interesting. Roux rarely trusted those not within his circle, so he must have a serious need for this thing. That it had possibly belonged to Joan of Arc and then Leonardo da Vinci made it valuable, but again, Roux had to know if Annja found it she would insist it be returned to the museum that had formerly owned it.

Dialing Roux’s number, Annja tugged up the zipper at the back of the wet suit using the long cord. She padded about in the small room belowdecks. Roux didn’t answer.

“You ready, Creed?” Scout called down from above.

“Always.”

On deck, Scout had laid out a laminated map on the bench beside the steering wheel. Kard sat back, visor cap pulled down to shade his eyes from the afternoon sun and a beer bottle in hand nestled against his stomach. Ian had suited up and looked over Annja’s shoulder as Scout explained what he’d learned about the heist.

“So the thieves, who were also lovers,” Scout said as he straightened the map, “snagged the stuff from the museum in Poland. They had intended to vacation in Venice, the City of Love.” He gave that label a dramatic tone.

Annja stepped forward, drawn into the man’s tale. And yet... “How do you know the thieves were lovers? A man and a woman?”

“It was in the police report. They were arrested, Creed. You should do your homework.”

She usually did. The police report should have been included in the dossier. She’d have to look into it as soon as she got a few minutes to fire up the laptop.

“But the man mistook the woman’s intentions—he thought she wanted a break from their relationship as much as he—and his partner revolted against him. An argument ensued as they were taking a gondola ride down the Fondamenta della Sensa, very near here.”