Kismet turned to Annie again. “So why are you here? In my room?”
“Dad told me he was going to be working with you. He’s mentioned you a time or two over the years. Always figured you’d look younger somehow.” The smile again, eyes full of mischief. “Anyway, I thought I’d come see what all the fuss was about.”
“Sorry to disappoint you,” Kismet replied stonily.
“Who says you did?” she retorted, but Kismet had already returned his attention to Higgins.
“Look, if you have to deal with this, and can’t help me out, I’ll understand.”
The former Gurkha’s brow furrowed. “Actually, I think I may have some new information about our—” He glanced at Annie—“Our project. I ran into Elisabeth. She’s hooked up with someone who I think may be looking for it as well.”
Kismet’s breath caught in his throat. “Dr. Leeds?”
“Figured you might know about him. Anyway, she invited me to dinner tonight…to meet this bloke. I thought you might want to tag along.”
“Dinner?” chirped Annie. “Fabulous. I’ll need to buy a dress though.”
Kismet sighed. Elisabeth Neuell and Dr. Leeds together. Wonderful. But his curiosity was more powerful than his disdain. “I suppose I’ll have to go shopping as well. I need a new tux.”
Despite his apprehension about what the evening would bring, Kismet felt a little more centered as the appointed hour drew near. Part of that was due to Annie’s revelation that the storm originating from the Sultan’s palace had more or less blown out. The knowledge that the death mark had been rescinded relieved him of one source of stress; he just hoped the surviving assassin lurking somewhere on the ship had gotten the message.
The main dining hall of The Star of Muara was resplendent, and as Kismet entered he realized that it was the first time he was experiencing what most of the passengers had come for in the first place. Formal dining wasn’t something he typically went out of his way for, but at just that moment, he understood the appeal. He turned to Annie, who was bookended between him and her father, and smiled.
The tomboy was gone, or at the very least, sublimated. Higgins’ daughter looked extraordinary in an oriental-style gown of jade green silk. Her rather plain hairstyle had been transformed into a crown of wavy curls, laying bare her finely sculpted neck, adorned with a string of pearls. She bore little resemblance to the waif that had sneaked into Kismet’s stateroom and nearly gotten herself killed.
Kismet had learned quite a bit about the girl over the course of the afternoon. Although she was the offspring of a relationship that had never quite gotten off the ground, Higgins doted on his daughter, and she in turn was fascinated by his world of travel and adventure. When he had called her his “administrative assistant,” he had been downplaying her role. Higgins had taught her everything about his trade, and while her own education supplied her with the skills to manage his business affairs, she had also done a fair amount of hands-on work. She proved as much when she had tracked down Kismet’s location on the ship and thwarted the electronic lock on his stateroom. She also evidently knew a thing or two about hand-to-hand combat.
Though he carried his dazzling daughter on his right arm, Higgins could not have looked more uncomfortable in his formal wear. The ship's tailor had gotten his proportions exactly right, but Higgins acted as if the suit were choking the life from him. Kismet resolved to get a drink into his friend before dinner, and asked the maître-d' to send two Macallans to their table. Annie asked for a cosmopolitan. The man nodded, and then gestured to the seats they were to have for the night. Kismet’s smile fell when he saw who was waiting at the table.
Elisabeth looked stunning. During the course of their time together, Kismet had not exactly seen her at her best, but tonight she looked ready for an Academy Awards red carpet walk. A strapless evening gown of black velvet clung to her enticing figure, accentuating every curve and displaying every asset. Her long blonde hair cascaded in waves down her bare shoulders and back. Her full lips were seductively painted and her smile was, as ever, hypnotic. And yet, while her beauty was almost enough to make him forget about her mercurial nature, it was not sufficient to distract him from the other person seated at the table.
Kismet almost did a double take. Unlike nearly every other man in the room, Leeds had disdained formal attire, and was instead wearing what looked to Kismet like the black cassock of a Catholic priest, though instead of a clerical collar, the garment continued up, almost to the underside of his jaw. Stranger still was the black skullcap that completely hid his steely gray hair.
Leeds did not rise to greet them, but held Kismet’s gaze contemplatively as the latter held a chair for Annie. Kismet matched the stare, but did not comment until he and Higgins were seated as well. “I didn’t realize this was a costume party. Let me guess: Nostradamus?”
If Leeds took offense, he did not let it show. He simply folded his hands on the table in front of him. “This is my professional attire.”
Kismet was tempted to continue testing the other man’s implacability, but the glint of a gem encrusted ring on Leeds’ right hand distracted him.
“Dr. Leeds is going to conduct a séance after the meal,” intoned Elisabeth. “It promises to be very exciting.”
“No doubt,” remarked Annie, disdainfully appraising the other woman.
Elisabeth flashed a perfect smile that somehow lowered the temperature in the room. “My goodness, if it isn’t Annie. You certainly cleaned up well. Has Nick told you all about our adventures together?”
Annie matched her smile. “Why no, he didn’t. It must have slipped his mind. Perhaps it didn’t make that much of an impression.”
“A séance?” Kismet interjected, trying to steer the conversation away from his indiscretions. He focused on Leeds. “That sounds a bit lurid for such a highly-regarded religious scholar.”
“I am a student of the mysteries of the human mind and spirit,” Leeds replied. He shifted his hands again, steepling his index fingers together in front of his chin. “There is only so much that can be learned from books. Precious little, in fact.”
Kismet tried to match Leeds’ stare, but his eyes were drawn to the ring. He now saw that, the precious stones were set in distinctive pattern which he recognized as an Ouroboros — a snake devouring its own tail — an ancient symbol of immortality. “Whereas the dead have all the answers?”
“For thousands of years, wise men have inquired of the spirits of the dead. More than three-quarters of people living today believe that the soul lives on after death, and if it indeed does, then certainly the departed would have insights into matters beyond our comprehension. Contacting them, of course, has never been a simple matter.”
The waiter arrived with the drinks they had ordered. Kismet gulped down the contents and nodded for another. He had once again made the mistake of getting Leeds started, but as before his curiosity got the better of him. “And who will you be contacting tonight?”
“Why, Hernando Fontaneda, of course.”
“And he will lead us to the Fountain of Youth!” chimed Elisabeth. “Isn't it marvelous?”
Kismet could not imagine why Leeds had taken Elisabeth into his confidence; he had not expected the man to be so open about his intentions. “The Fountain of Youth? So you think it’s real? Just on the basis of that old letter?”
Leeds continued turning the ring so that, in the prismatic depths of the gemstones, the light seemed to dance. It gave the illusion that the Ouroboros was alive and writhing on his finger. “It seems imprudent not to make the effort.”
Kismet wanted to answer him, wanted to accuse him of being foolish, but the words would not come. He was entranced by the undulating snake on Leeds’ ring and stared deeper into the image, as if doing so might reveal some secret truth to him.