"I'm Professor Cramshaft from the Royal Academy of Butterflies, and this," he said pointing over his shoulder at me, "is Dr. San Francisco, our South American specialist."
"Hola," I said and bowed.
"Dr. San Francisco?" said the woman. It was evident she wasn't buying it. Antony must have sensed that too and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a five-dollar bill.
"At the academy, we're very interested in the butterfly that your son found. We were wondering if you would allow him to show us exactly where he located it."
The woman looked hesitant. Antony flashed the cash. "Of course, we'd be willing to offer a small fee for your trouble," he said.
"I don't know," said the woman.
Antony took out another five and held the two bills in one hand, flapping them slightly. Like some sleight of hand that Schell might pull off, the woman moved so fast I could hardly track it. Next I looked, she was holding the bills.
"Jimmie," she said. A second later, the kid reappeared. "Put your coat on and take these two professors out in the woods and show them where you found it."
"Yes, Mom," he said and went to get his coat.
The kid returned again, dressed for the outdoors. Even though the mother still had a sketchy look on her face, a deal was a deal, and she kissed the kid and told us she'd be watching from the back window. "If you want to buy it from us, we can make arrangements," she said.
"I'll be in touch about that," said Antony. We smiled, tipped our hats, and took off after the kid, who was out the door and down the steps in a flash. As we moved around the side of the house to the backyard, Antony said to the boy, "Your old lady drives a hard bargain."
"That's what my dad says," said Jimmie.
He took us to the edge of his yard and into a wood of scrub pine and oaks that seemed to border the backyards of all the street's houses. We walked through fallen leaves along a path the local kids had probably worn. It wound around trees and through stands of sticker bushes.
"How far back does this woods go?" asked Antony.
"I don't know," said Jimmie. "I'm only allowed up to the sand hills."
A few minutes later, we were at the sand hills, a large clearing of small white sand dunes, surrounded by trees. "This is where I found it," he said.
"Where, exactly?" I asked.
The kid looked around, as if he was making up his mind. "Over here," he said, walking to the nearest pine tree and touching one of its branches.
"Jimmie," said Antony, moving up a little closer to the kid. "I think you're feeding old Professor Cramshaft a line of malarkey."
"I found it here," said the kid.
"I know you're not supposed to go past here," said Antony. "But let's face it, Jim, no kid is going to be satisfied for long by stopping at the sand hills."
The kid shook his head. "I'm going to go back now."
Antony leaned way down so that he was face-to-face with the kid. "You mean to tell me that you and your friends never went out there to see what was on the other side of the sand dunes?" asked Antony.
I couldn't believe the big man was sweating the kid.
Jimmie started to get nervous, but then Antony's jacket opened a little. The kid's face broke into a smile. "Hey, mister, you've got a gun."
Antony straightened up. "Of course I do," he said. "This butterfly stuff is dangerous business. You like guns?"
"Yeah," said the kid.
The big man took the Mauser out and removed the clip. "Here," he said, handing the kid the gun. "You can hold it. Lead on, James, only the absolute truth will do."
"Don't tell my mother."
"I swear," said Antony, crossing his heart. "You too, Dr. San Diego."
The kid led the way. Fifteen minutes later, after passing two ponds and winding snakelike along a less distinct path, our journey ended at a ten-foot stone wall. It stretched a good fifty yards in either direction.
"Who lives here?" asked Antony.
"I don't know," said Jimmie. "But I found the butterfly on that wall right there."
Antony took two singles from his pocket. "It could get dicey from here on out, kid," he said. "You'd better give me the gun back." As the kid handed over the gun, the big man slipped the two dollars into his hand. "You don't mention the gun, we don't drop one on you to your mom about coming out here."
Jimmie nodded.
"Run home now," said Antony. The kid took off through the trees. We started around to the western side of the wall, taking pains to walk as quietly as possible. As we crept along, Antony replaced the clip in the Mauser.
If the wall Jimmie had taken us to was about fifty yards in length, the western wall was a good seventy-five. Keeping tight against it, we followed it to where it turned another corner. The trees thinned out a little there, and we could see that halfway down the next wall of the huge rectangle there was a dirt road that led into the place.
"I'll sneak down there and take a look through the entrance," I whispered.
"I'm right behind you," said Antony.
"No, you're too big. I'll make less noise. Give me the gun; you can keep your two bucks." I took off my hat and handed it to the big man, who crouched down to wait.
I slid along the wall like a shadow, gun pointing up and ready as I'd seen Antony carry it. When I got close to the entrance where the road passed in, I saw a tall iron gate. I got down on my hands and knees and crept along only a few inches at a time, stopping to listen every now and then. Reaching the gate, I took a deep breath and stuck my head out to peer around the corner and through the bars.
The road that led into the place went straight up to a tall, old house with a wraparound porch and two gables. There was a black car, a Ford, parked at the end of the dirt drive about ten yards from the house. Sitting on the porch in a rocking chair was a man in a black suit and hat, cradling a machine gun. Another fellow, in a similar dark getup, sat on the steps. The yard around the house, with the exception of the front, which was a leaf-covered, flat expanse, was thick with trees. I was about to pull my head in and inch back to Antony, when I heard something just inside the wall.
Another man in a black suit, carrying a Tommy gun, passed inches away from me inside the gate. I was so low, he didn't notice, but had he turned, he'd have easily seen me. I waited for him to pass the gate and continue on behind the other side of the wall before making my move. With the same stealth I used to get there, I retreated. A few minutes later, I was crouching next to Antony at the corner.
"This has got to be it," I said. "I saw three of those guys in the black suits."
Antony nodded.
"Who are those guys anyway?" I asked.
"If I didn't know better I'd say they were gangsters, but I never knew any gangsters who all wore the same outfits. The black suits are like uniforms almost. Private security maybe, paid for by Agarias's wealthy friends. Who knows, maybe government issue."
As I was describing the house to him, we heard the sound of a car motor starting up. We moved around the corner, behind the wall. The gate opened a minute later, and the black Ford sped out down the dirt road, dust flying up behind it.
We made our way quickly back through the woods and to the Cord sitting parked on Clayton. I wanted to find the entrance to the dirt road leading to the compound. Leaving Jimmie's neighborhood, we drove south and then took the first road to the right. Before long, we spotted the path through the trees. Antony marked it on the map.
"I'm not sure what this is going to do for us, but at least we probably know where Schell is," I said.
"Start thinking, Boss," said Antony as he turned the car around and headed back toward our house.
Along the way, we passed through some small town; it very well could have been Fort Solanga, I don't know. There were a few shops and about a hundred yards of sidewalk along either side of the main street. Parked in front of the general store was the black, Model A Ford I'd seen leave through the gates of the compound.