“Bullshit,” Nina teased, “you knew full bloody well I would come.”
Joanne laughed, ecstatic to be at the receiving end of Nina's aggressive affection again after so many years. She took a step back and looked at the pretty woman she once knew. “My goodness, you look fantastic! And that is not an obligatory platitude. You… you have muscles, Nina. Fuckin' hell, what have I missed?”
Nina flexed playfully. “Long story. Almost kissed the Reaper, so I had to hit the weights to heal faster and better, you know? Next thing I knew I was hooked. And you have not aged a day, Earle-girl. I bet you have been avoiding marriage, right?”
“Like the plague. You?” Joanne asked as she relieved Nina of her suitcase and started walking toward their cabin.
“Aye, of course. Jesus, I can’t think of a greater punishment on a great mind than the confinement of concubine duty. I’m glad to see you have not succumbed,” she laughed at Joanne's quirky expression at the concubine remark.
“No, I have a life, thank you. Speaking of which,” the teacher started. “I believe you’ve been making waves in the academic world since 2012 or so, hey?”
“Why do you say that?” Nina frowned, wondering which one of her adventures had made it all the way to Canada's gossip store.
“I’ve read Sam Cleave's second book. Oh my God, what a roller coaster you’ve been on while on those expeditions with him and that explorer… what's his name, the guy who died during the last excursion?” They’d turned the corner to the front door of their cottage before Joanne realized that the dead guy was one of Nina's closest friends. She stopped in her tracks and pursed her lips together with regret. “Oh shit, Nina, I'm so sorry.”
“For what?” Nina shrugged. “People die every day and we have to accept it. Especially people like Dave Purdue. He died loving what he did and he had no regrets. Besides, I don't think of him as gone for good, you know? It’s as if he’s still around.”
Nina could not help but feel bad for her nonchalant manner about death, particularly because she knew he was not lost to her. She felt ashamed, not only for lying to Joanne, but for pretending to grieve while others in the world, at that very moment, were not fortunate enough to pretend.
“That’s a wonderful way to deal with the loss,” Joanne said. “I'm sure he would have loved to be here right now, to help us get to the bottom of this trinket and go looking for its origin. That’s if it’s authentic.”
“Oh aye,” Nina smiled, “he would have done anything to be here right now, I'm certain.”
By the time Nina got settled in and had unpacked her basics, the day had worn on into mid-afternoon. She was anxious to examine the relic, so they sat down at the breakfast nook by the kitchenette's window. The view was magnificent through it. Dark green towering trees rocked soundly in the breeze, ushering the rolling clouds across the lakeside. Even the water displayed rarely more than a ripple across its mirror where ducks and geese gathered in the afternoon coolness. At that moment, the only signs of other people were a few strewn water toys and a few odd pieces of clothing hung up to dry. Nobody was in sight.
Being free from prying eyes, the two women deemed the time right to check out the coin and determine if it was genuine. Joanne placed it on the smooth wooden surface of the nook, allowing the eastern light to illuminate it against the timber background. Her eyes stayed glued to Nina's face to ascertain the result, but Nina's poker face revealed nothing at first.
She looked at Joanne and asked, “Do you have a good blazer, Miss Earle?”
Joanne frowned. “Why?”
Nina smiled, “Because you are about to be famous. Almost as famous as Alexander the Great!”
Chapter 12 — Target Acquisition
Purdue, having abandoned sleep for over twenty-seven hours in order to make his way to Oban, found himself utterly moody and starving by the next day. All who knew him would attest to his almost unshakable cheer, his perpetual joviality, and other positive attributes stemming from a comfortable life of wealth. This short fuse and intolerance was completely out of character.
Seven hours in the clouds had taken its toll on him and he had only allowed himself two hours' sleep between The United States and Ireland. Looking like hell on legs, Purdue could feel his demeanor fall when he came aboard the Manannán to start the slower, longer leg of his trip to keep away from the security cameras of airports. He hoped that the Irish Sea would be kind enough to remain benign during his journey to Campbeltown so that he could catch up on much needed sleep.
Safely in his cabin, Purdue missed home. He missed his house, the historical gem, Wrichtishousis, now somehow in the aegis of the British Secret Service along with foreign archaeological agencies. He was confounded by the involvement of MI6 in his affairs. Apart from his connection to the Secret Service only by way of his friend, Sam Cleave, Purdue could not connect the dots between his fugitive status and Military Intelligence. Of course, he’d previously stepped over the legal lines of international heritage sites, but that was hardly military in nature?
He was also frustrated because he knew he could not protest or question the ludicrous seizure of his estate. After all, according to Scottish Law's Presumption of Death Act of 2013, Purdue had a whole seven years to resurface before the court could grant an order to issue a death certificate. Even then, only his own attorneys and holding companies' boards would have the authority to process his respective papers that constituted any form of passing on properties and business rights.
This was but one skin scratch in a whole bucket of crabs he would have to tend to once he was safe from prosecution and finally ready to climb out of his crypt. To Purdue's relief, the captain and crew of the Manannán, a large charter yacht carrying only a handful of passengers per trip once a day, were not the adamant types that insisted their passengers participate in socializing. They were just there to ferry their paying customers up the Irish Sea toward the port at Campbeltown, not to babysit. He was overjoyed that he could just disappear below deck and sleep until his alarm would wake him an hour short of his port of call.
Not only would Purdue be resting properly for the first time in days, he could do so without concern. Here on the boat there were only a handful of people and there was no threat of unexpected strangers showing up of whom he may have to be wary. He could relax. He could try not to think the unthinkable — that Nina had been taken by someone nasty and that Sam did not care; that he, Purdue, was all alone in his quest toward vindication and not neglected by his friends. With these damning thoughts infesting his uncertain mind, Purdue fell asleep without even trying. In a moment all these dreadful possibilities had faded in favor of replenishment, rest, and God knows, security. It would take him another two days at least to get to Nina's home, so he made good use of the down time.
“You will not believe this, darling,” Maria told Beck when she brought him his apricot ice tea in bed. “Finally I have some good news for you.”
He wanted to sit up out of curiosity, but the fury of depression due to his problems of late objected and he only acknowledged her with a groan. Maria put the glass down and turned the clock radio to face him. It was late in the morning already.
“Actually, I have two good bits of news for you,” she smiled. Now he had to react. “What news is that, Maria? Really, I have to know.”
“That's what I thought. Come see this. No, even better come hear and see this,” she whispered.
“Have you fed the housewife yet?” he asked, moving like a sloth on a bad day to grip his ice tea. “I don't want her to waste away while we figure out what to do with her.”