The Indian smiled. ‘I hope you’re not offended.’
‘Nah, it’s just that it’s been a while since I was in that line of work. And I never really thought of myself as a merc. More like a troubleshooter.’
‘Oh, yeah,’ said Nina. ‘You see trouble, you shoot it.’
‘Hey, you weren’t complaining at the time! So, who are these guys?’
Jindal tapped on each picture in turn. ‘Ramon Maltez Espinosa; Gennadi Sklar—’
‘Sklar?’ Eddie interrupted.
‘You know him?’
‘Never met him, but I know the name. Worked in Africa, mostly . . . Harare, that’s where I heard about him.’
‘You were in Zimbabwe?’ Nina asked. However much she thought she knew about her husband’s past travels, he still always had the ability to surprise her.
‘About six years ago,’ Eddie told her. ‘Don’t plan on going back - I’m not popular there. But this bloke Sklar, that’s where I know his name from.’
‘Small world.’
‘You get to know most of the people in the business after a while. The professionals, at least - the ones who’re good enough not to get killed.’ He turned to Jindal. ‘This Fernandez, for jobs like the ones he’s been pulling, he’d be after the absolute best people he could get. And there’s not that many middlemen he could go through to find ’em.’
‘I doubt they’d be willing to talk to Interpol, though,’ said Jindal.
‘Maybe not, but they might talk to me. Somebody’ll know something - maybe even who’s paying Fernandez. And I wouldn’t even need to go to them - just thinking that I could might be enough to get Fernandez to open up.’
Jindal considered it. ‘We’ve been trying to work out a deal, but so far he’s refused everything. Perhaps a stick to go with the carrot might encourage him to talk . . .’ Another moment of thought. ‘Would you be willing to fly back to Lyon with me? Not just for this - your first-hand account of events, and any help you could give us concerning Fernandez’s mercenary connections, would be very useful. But if we can’t persuade him to accept a deal, then perhaps a threat would be more effective. Not a physical threat,’ he hurriedly added.
Eddie grinned. ‘Never crossed my mind. But I’m up for it.’ He turned to Nina. ‘That’s if you’re okay with it. If you don’t want to be on your own . . .’
She took a moment to reply. ‘I’ll be okay. Especially if your going helps nail this bastard.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Positive,’ she insisted. ‘If it leads to catching whoever’s behind this, I’m all for it.’
‘Excellent,’ said Jindal, nodding. ‘I’ll arrange the flight.’ He looked at the ancient volume again. ‘As for the Codex itself . . . have you found any reason why whoever was paying Fernandez wanted him to steal it?’
‘I think I might have,’ said Nina. She explained her deduction about the link between the Atlantean god Poseidon and the Hindu god Shiva, opening the Codex to the pages that had been on display to illustrate her point. ‘If this Vault of Shiva still exists, then its contents would be an incredible archaeological find.’
‘Big enough to kill for?’ Eddie asked.
Jindal looked thoughtfully at the ancient words. ‘The Vedic Sanskrit text, the Indian connection, was one of the reasons why I pushed to get this assignment. There is a big black market for ancient Hindu artefacts - and yes, people are willing to kill for them, unfortunately. But this would be on a much larger scale than anything I’ve dealt with before.’
‘How long have you been with Interpol?’ Nina asked.
‘About three years. I used to be a detective with the Delhi police - finding art thieves was my speciality, and since a lot of cases involved international trafficking it made sense to transfer to Interpol when the opportunity arose.’
‘Sounds like a cool job,’ said Eddie. ‘Travel, busting bad guys, recovering stolen treasures . . .’
‘It has its moments - though I don’t think it compares to what you do.’ He noticed the display case. ‘Is that the Egyptian artefact?’
‘You know about it?’ Nina asked, slightly surprised that he was aware of the small purple figurine.
‘Yes - the Egyptians asked to check Interpol’s database to see if it matched anything stolen or recovered. It didn’t, so I suppose they then gave it to the IHA in the hope that you’d be able to identify it.’
‘No luck so far,’ Nina admitted. ‘But we’ll keep on trying - at least until the Egyptians get fed up with waiting and ask for it back!’
The three shared a small laugh, then Jindal gathered up his documents. ‘Thank you for your help, Dr Wilde. And Mr Chase, I’ll call you as soon as I confirm the flight.’ He said his goodbyes to the couple, then departed.
‘Better go home and pack my toothbrush,’ said Eddie.
‘Do you think you’ll be able to get this Fernandez to talk?’ Nina asked.
A cat-like grin. ‘If they give me five minutes with just me, him and something sharp.’
‘I doubt Interpol would approve . . . but in this case, I wouldn’t be opposed.’ She carefully nestled the Codex into the padding inside a large steel case and closed it. ‘But until we actually find out who’s behind the robberies, we need to keep this safe. Can you carry it for me?’
‘Half the time I think you only married me to have someone to lug heavy objects about,’ Eddie said in jocular complaint as he picked up the box - whereupon his tone became genuine. ‘Ow! Bloody hell.’
‘Are you okay?’
‘Yeah, fine.’ He put a hand to his ribs. ‘Bit of a twinge, that’s all.’
‘There are some painkillers in my desk.’
‘No, I’m okay,’ he insisted. ‘Just that my side feels like someone’s sandpapered it.’
‘It looked like it, too. Sure you’re all right? I can get someone else to take it to the vault.’
‘Nah, I’ve got it.’ He hoisted the case again. ‘Although I bet librarians were bloody glad when someone got the idea to make books out of paper rather than metal.’
They took an elevator down to the Secretariat Building’s lowest basement level. Most of the floor was occupied by a data centre, computer servers handling the terabytes of information flowing through the UN, but their destination involved a more physical form of storage.
A familiar face was at the entrance. ‘Hey, Lola,’ said Nina, seeing her assistant chatting to one of the guards at the security station, a tall young Haitian called Henri Vernio.
‘Oh! Nina, hi.’ Lola blushed, as if she had been caught in the act; Nina wondered if she was dating the man. She indicated a little trolley stacked with folders. ‘I was just getting these for you.’
‘Thanks,’ said Nina, teasingly adding: ‘No rush.’
‘I was, ah, on my way back upstairs anyway,’ Lola said, giving the disappointed guard a quick goodbye before scurrying off with the trolley.
Nina smiled, then turned to the other guard, Lou Jablonsky, an overweight Brooklynite ex-cop. ‘We’re putting the Talonor Codex back in the vault.’
‘Sure thing, Dr Wilde,’ said Jablonsky. He began to enter their details into his computer. ‘Hey, Eddie. You okay? Lola told us you got pretty banged up in Frisco.’
‘Yeah, I’m fine,’ Eddie replied. ‘Except it looks like someone used a cheese grater on my arse.’
Jablonsky grinned. ‘Some weirdos pay good money for that. Okay, if you’ll follow me . . .’
The high-security vault was only one part of the secure archive; most of the space was occupied by labyrinthine ranks of lockers and filing drawers, with a reading area in one corner where researchers could examine classified material without the extra bureaucratic hassle required to remove it from the room. Cameras on the ceiling watched every square foot of the climate-controlled chamber. The entrance to the vault itself was a large stainless steel door in direct line of sight of the security station. Jablonsky inserted a keycard into a slot on the door and looked back at Vernio, who put a card of his own into another reader and entered a command on the computer.