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“Maybe it’s the Theurang,” Sam said. “Maybe to him, it’s just another fossil to sell.”
“You could be right. If the description of this thing is even remotely accurate, it would be worth a fortune.”
Remi asked, “Rube, do we know whether the Nazi accusations against Lewis ever impacted Charlie?”
“Not that I could find. I think his success speaks for itself. And given how ruthless he is, I doubt anyone has the guts to bring it up anymore.”
“That’s about to change,” Sam said. “Time to push King Charlie’s comfort zone.”
They hung up, talked strategy for a few minutes, then Sam dialed King’s direct line. The man himself picked up on the first ring. “King.”
“Mr. King. Sam Fargo here.”
“I was wonderin’ when you’d get around to callin’. Your pretty wife with you?”
“Safe and sound,” Remi replied sweetly.
“It seems our partnership has hit a rocky patch,” King said. “My kids tell me you ain’t playin’ ball.”
“We’re playing ball,” Sam replied. “Just a different game than you are. Charlie, did you have Frank Alton kidnapped?”
“Kidnapped? Why would I do somethin’ like that?”
“That’s not an answer,” Remi pointed out.
“I sent Frank Alton out there to do a job for me. He got himself in over his head, pissed off the wrong people. I have no idea where he is.”
“Another nonanswer answer,” Sam said. “Okay, let’s move on. All you have to do is listen. We’ve got what you’re after—”
“And what’s that?”
“You’re not listening. We’ve got what you’re after—what your dad spent his lifetime hunting for. And, as you probably guessed, we paid a visit to your concentration camp in the Langtang Valley.”
“I got no idea what you’re talkin’ about.”
“We collected thousands of photos—mostly of documents we found laying around in an office trailer—but a few of them of your wife, or concubine, or whatever you call her in the privacy of your Gulfstream. As luck would have it, when we took the pictures, she was murdering one of your employees. We’ve got a picture of his face as well.”
Charlie King did not respond for a long ten seconds. Finally he sighed. “I think you’re fulla horse crap, Sam, but clearly somethin’s got you excited. You’ve got my attention.”
“First things first. Release Frank—”
“I told you I don’t—”
“Shut up. Release Frank Alton. When we get a call from him saying he’s safe and unharmed in the comfort of his home, we’ll meet with Russell and Marjorie and reach an understanding.”
“Now who’s sayin’ a lot without sayin’ much?” King replied.
“It’s the only deal you’re going to get,” Sam replied.
“Sorry, friend, I’m goin’ to decline. I think you’re bluffin’.”
“Suit yourself,” Sam said, and hung up.
He laid the phone on the coffee table. He and Remi looked at each other. She asked, “Odds?”
“Sixty–forty it rings in under a minute.”
She smiled. “No bet.”
