And Mai now laid a small hand on his wrist. “I say let her decide. Don’t you?”
Dahl drew away, a little embarrassed it seemed. “Well, yes. I guess. The danger though…” He shook his head.
Kenzie flashed a seething glare at Tremayne. “Take me with you, boss.”
CHAPTER THREE
The man in the white, tight-fitting Gucci T-shirt and jogging bottoms moved stealthily across the office, the odd, inconsistent chain around his neck clicking. The T-shirt — because he enjoyed expensive clothes for being expensive. The jogging bottoms — for freedom of movement. The chain — a lifestyle requirement.
With liquid grace he sank into a leather chair and sighed. All was well on the mountain today. His people were content, satiated and loyal. Today could be counted on as a good day.
Not quite yet.
No, the call hadn’t come in. The man was not worried though. His connection always came through.
With time to spare and the dawn yet early, he ignored the few notes that had been placed upon his leather-bound desk and looked into the small, round bowl of delicacies perched at the very edge. Immediately he spied something he enjoyed and began to nibble, rising and drifting over to the ceiling-length picture window.
A deep valley stretched below, and then a sharp rise to the next mountain. High peaks stood sentry to left and right, their majesty immense, their summits lost in haze and drifting cloud. Narrow passes could be picked out meandering here and there, a route through the maze but not without natural perils and their own, more human set of watchmen. Solitude and peace held sway over all, and the man himself was content.
The food was delicious, done just right. He scribbled a quick note to reward his head chef. They were a strong-knit community here, a family that thrived on togetherness and devotion. If one strand of their kinship became strained then it added tension to all the others. Wellbeing and happiness in one’s self was all he asked for, all he preached.
And he was lord and master over all. The only lord and master. He was a solitary man, a loner it might be said. And this commune, this spectacular chateau perched on the side of a mountain, this growing family that practiced a most sacred and ancient ritual; every aspect was his brainchild.
Of course, that which was buried below. That was happenstance.
That which was buried below gave them all life. It gave them subsistence. It gave them security. But it also presented their greatest danger.
The man finished his food and drank water, still devouring the grand view. He was the king of all he could see. He smiled after a fashion, not meaningfully or even happily. Just a smile untouched by emotion. He hoped the sentiment reached all the way down through the floor of his office at the highest point of his house, past the lower two floors and into the caves below where most of his people lived.
Time sped on. The man saw a rigid working day ahead. As he turned back toward his desk, chest swelling with satisfaction, the single black cellphone atop the gleaming leather started to vibrate.
Communications devices were few in his house, as were computers. And all detached from the Internet unless necessity dictated otherwise. This phone though, it might be plastic, but it was sheer gold.
“Yes. This is Dantanion.”
“Sir, this is Tremayne. All went as expected last night and the item has been delivered, the auction and supplementary monies exchanged as usual. No issues and I am ready for the next.”
Dantanion picked a soft piece of tissue from between his teeth. “Good news. And the acceleration of our transactions, will that cause problems?” He was a soft spoken man and always to the point. No point saying three words when two would do.
“It’s not a problem, sir.”
“I rely on you, Tremayne.” A cold lie.
“Thank you, sir.”
Dantanion thought of the trio of middlemen he had moving the artifacts. He doubted they would ever cross paths, but better to be safe.
“I rely on others too.”
A pause. “Understood then.”
“Lyon next week?”
“Yes, sir. That’s the next auction we can reasonably make. In reference to your earlier comment though — I should say something.”
Dantanion paused. This was new. “Really?”
“Only that the more frequently these… items… are floated, the more attention they will receive. Until recently the frequency was about right.”
Dantanion accepted the slight warning. After all, the man was correct. “I do understand what you are saying, but Lyon has to go ahead.”
Tremayne didn’t falter. “It will, sir. All is in place.”
Dantanion killed the call and destroyed the burner, then replaced it with another. Any call from Tremayne would be rerouted half a dozen times before it clicked onto the new number; Dantanion’s main compromise to modern life. The next artifact would be lucrative, and imperatively so.
Tending for, watering, and bringing up over one hundred followers took a toll on a single man, and on that man’s finances. In truth, Dantanion saw that which was buried below as a gift from some kind of god, a ritualistic idol that valued his offerings and the frequency in which he received them.
Sumptuous offerings.
Opulent, deliciously extravagant offerings that squirmed and cried and bled just right even as they were slowly being devoured.
Dantanion reached back to the bowl of delicacies, this time choosing an item that had been cooked slowly, over days, marinated often, and then snipped free of the still-living, still-watching body. He remembered it well.
Savored the taste.
Wiped his lips as a string of drool spiraled down, then laughed, this time a full-on belly laugh. Tonight, he would send the monsters out again.
Tonight would be good.
He started to work slowly, methodically, sorting through the piles and the priorities. The cops in Cusco needed their cut. The captains both in Cusco and Lima needed more. The authorities that governed Peru took some small slices here and there, but remained almost oblivious.
The legend of the Cannibal King was local legend only, not even old enough to be passed down from mother to daughter, father to son. But the locals believed it. They had plenty of reason to do so.
Dantanion took his time finishing up and then rose. It was time to pay a visit to the caves, take in the thick ambiance, the stench, the sweat and the exultance, and bask deep in the heart of it all. It was time to pat the backs of his followers and join them in ritual. It was time to plan for tonight and give them purpose.
And it was time to tread beyond the caves, delve deeper down, into the great vaults of the mountain where the greatest lost treasure of all time had been found. Extremely unsafe to say the least, Dantanion nevertheless ventured there alone.
As in all things.
With one more genuine smile he left the office and headed for the elevator that would take him down… down toward the bowels of the earth and the monsters that dwelled there.
CHAPTER FOUR
Matt Drake flinched as Torsten Dahl’s face filled the video-screen set up on the desk before him. “Whoa, pal, they say the camera adds a few pounds but how many frogs’ legs have you been eating?”
Dahl took the jibe stoically. “You’re saying I look fat?”
“Well, not exactly. Fatter.”
Alicia joined him. “And here’s me thinking you’d be slimmer since you’re all alone with Kenzie now.”
“What does that mean?” Dahl demanded.
“You want me to spell it out? Or act it out?”
“No, no.” The Swede drew back quickly, then gave them a somewhat pained smile. “I am still married, guys.”
Drake squeezed Alicia’s wrist as she opened her mouth to say something flippant like “not for long” and felt proud of her when she shut it with an audible click. He checked the office to see who else had drifted in.