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“They were tracking them round the clock, but the Fargos must have somehow stumbled across the surveillance because they literally vanished into thin air when they should have been at the hotel,” Percy said.
“Which is an excuse. You know how I feel about excuses instead of performance.”
“Indeed. I’ve already made my displeasure known in the strongest possible terms to the locals. They won’t be getting paid.”
“I’d prefer they were fed to the sharks.”
“Quite. But I’m afraid they rather frown on that sort of thing, even in Cuba.”
“Paying through the nose for poor results is becoming somewhat tedious, Percy.”
“No question.” Percy took a quiet breath. “I did get a rather interesting report from a different Cuban source, though. That same night, someone broke into Morro Castle. The footage from the security cameras captured your friends in the act. The Cubans are livid at being made fools of—the castle is a fortified area, with a military and police presence, and yet your amateurs made it in and out without any effort, from what I can gather.”
“Unbelievable. What did they take?”
“Well, that’s the odd part. According to the locals, everything’s accounted for. As it is, the vault in question held only some naval odds and ends and a few documents. Oh, and some carved stones. Bloody rubbish, all of it, from what I can see,” Percy said.
“Not if they risked breaking into a guarded stronghold. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that those two don’t do anything by accident. I want a complete inventory of that vault. Now would be good—”
“I anticipated your request. If you’ll pop into your e-mail account, you’ll find a list, with photos. Although some of the documents have degraded pretty severely after being stored in a dungeon.”
“Is everyone a complete idiot on that side of the pond? Why on earth would they house something valuable in a room where it would rot?”
“Apparently, they’ve got their hands full carrying on with the noble Communist Revolution.”
Janus grunted. “Very well. I’ll look it over and get back to you.”
He punched the call off and continued pacing, his stomach churning as he weighed his options. He’d heard from his Mexican contact earlier: the Fargos were back in Mexico City and had spent the day at the Institute, where at least he could keep a better eye on them. They hadn’t spotted the surveillance, likely because the Mexicans were using a larger team. He made a mental note to caution his Mexican conduit to avoid doing anything to make them suspicious.
Janus entered his lavish office and checked his e-mail in-box and read the inventory list with interest. Something had been worth risking everything for.
No matter. Unbeknownst to even Percy, he had a secret weapon. One he had cultivated with care and which looked ready to finally pay off. He was confident he’d know as much about what the Fargos were working on as they did, just as he’d been able to track them around the globe.
Janus shut down his computer and rejoined his brother and the entertainment up on the pool deck. For this trip, he’d arranged for five stunning Spanish models, three of whom were blondes. He knew his clients’ tastes well and blondes always eased the way for difficult decisions to be made about expensive ordnance. He ascended the stairs to the upper deck, his handcrafted Italian moccasins soundless on the hardwood steps. Janus approached the table, arms open, a beaming smile on his face, as he eyed the young beauties, his to do with as he pleased before his clients arrived in a few hours.
“Ladies, please. It’s rude to keep all the fun to yourselves. Slide over. The captain wants to spend some time with his new friends.”
The girls tittered nervously at his sudden appearance but relaxed when they saw his face. They were experienced and they knew that expression well. An unthinking hunger that was their stock-in-trade.
As old as the Greek hills they were steaming toward.
Maribela and Antonio gazed at the Fargos’ Cuban photographs in disbelief, having stopped at the Institute that morning before making their way to the crypts, where excavation was under way.
“Absolutely remarkable. How on earth did you get these?” Antonio asked.
“Apparently, friendly persuasion works wonders. You just need to know the secret password and the Cubans couldn’t wait to give us photos,” Sam said. They’d agreed to show Maribela and Antonio the snapshots of the artifacts but not the manuscript.
Remi sat nearby, her face impassive.
“Well, you have a career as a politician ahead of you if you want,” Maribela said, the admiration in her smile a little too warm for Remi’s liking.
“I’m not nearly unscrupulous enough, I’m afraid.”
Maribela’s musical laugh was like nails on a chalkboard for Remi and she all but groaned as she got to her feet and moved next to Sam.
“What do you make of the pictographs?” she asked.
Antonio edged nearer and studied the images. “I’d say definitely Toltec, but the images are unlike any I’ve seen. We’ll need to study them further, of course, but I’m sure.”
