Chasing the White Lion by James Hannibal (best free e book reader .TXT) 📗

Val and the Albanian stared one another down for a long moment.

Atan shrugged. “Okay. I walk.” He and the giant turned to go.

“Wait.” Talia broke first, buying a hard look from Val.

The van’s sliding door opened behind her, and Tyler stepped out. “Let him go, girls. I told you before. We don’t need this guy. I can move the coins in Russia and Asia.”

The challenge in his voice had the desired effect. Atan turned. “You must be the American broker. And how do you propose to move these thalers in Asia, hmm? Who are your contacts?”

“That’s my business. I thought you were bowing out.”

Atan’s gaze shifted to Val. “Miss Macciano, this is your call. But I guarantee he cannot get you the prices I will.”

None of the contingencies Tyler had discussed with the crew included a heat-packing, six-foot-five behemoth attached to Atan’s hip. The broker had called an audible. But what choice did they have? If they wanted to infiltrate the Jungle and find the missing children, they had to keep Atan on the hook. There wasn’t time to find a new mark.

Talia wanted to poke Val, cough, whisper—anything to tell her to make sure Atan didn’t get away. She could only pray and try to breathe.

Val played along. “Okay. Beefcake can come. But that cannon under his jacket stays in its holster. So does the spare on his ankle, capiche?”

The giant glanced down at his right leg. Val couldn’t have seen the spare gun, but she had Jedi-mind-tricked him into confirming both its presence and location. Talia had to suppress a chuckle.

MAC HAD CONFIGURED THE VAN FOR CARGO, with only one bench seat. Val drove, and Talia took the front passenger seat, leaving the bench for Tyler, Atan, and Janos, who sat in the middle.

“I looked you up.” Atan bent forward to speak to Tyler around the giant. “I thought I had never heard of you until Miss Macciano brought your name up in my office, but it seems our paths have crossed before. Do you recall a piece of Arabian silver known as Scheherazade’s Phoenix?”

Eddie had built a history for Tyler as a coin collector and broker, but Talia didn’t know how deep it went, or whether Tyler had found the time to study the details. In the rearview mirror, she saw Janos slip a hand beneath his jacket. She inched forward a hair in her seat, ready to grab the Glock 26 at the small of her back.

Tyler stared out the windshield, saying nothing.

“What about it, Mr. Tyler? You were a buyer at the auction—a small affair in Dubai. Did you take Scheherazade’s Phoenix home?”

He finally locked eyes with Atan. “I never made it to Dubai. But neither did you. We both bid by proxy. And if I remember correctly, you were the one to claim the prize. The Phoenix is in your collection.”

Atan’s frown melted into a smile. “Ah, silly me. I must have forgotten. But then again, I own so many treasures.”

The bodyguard’s hand reappeared from under the jacket.

Talia relaxed.

Tyler went back to looking out the window. “This time there’s plenty of treasure to share. I ponied up my dough, Atan. Now it’s your turn. A half million US to see the Bavarian Thalers resurrected.”

“Too right.” Atan unlocked the screen of his phone. A few taps later, he tucked it away again. “It is done. The money is in Miss Macciano’s account.”

Eddie confirmed the transfer over the comm link. “I see it. Five hundred thousand US, coming in from a bank in Zurich. We have his money.”

The van rolled to a stop. Val turned in her seat. “Just in time, sweetums. We’re here.”

CHAPTER

THIRTY-

FOUR

MARE’S ORBIT FOREST PRESERVE

RIVER VLTAVA

THEDISTANTRATTLE of Finn’s modified air compressor reached the road through the trees. Val slipped the keys under the visor and climbed out with the rest, but neither she nor Talia made any move to lead them to the dig site.

Atan looked toward the sound. “What are we waiting for?”

Val yawned. “Our other guest.” She checked her watch and glanced at Talia. “We should have stopped for coffee.”

“By ‘other guest,’ you mean Malcom Smythe.” Atan spoke the name like a curse.

Tyler joined him, feigning anger. “Atan and I had to be driven here, kept in the dark, but you gave that British peacock the location?”

“First money in, boys. Smythe got the ball rolling, so he gets the VIP treatment. He’s been here every day to keep tabs on his investment. But I wouldn’t worry about him having the location. He’s not the sharpest . . . Oops. Speak of the devil.”

A Land Rover bounced down the road and skidded to a stop mere feet from the van, sending up a cloud of dust. Tyler coughed and waved a hand in front of his face. Talia heard him sneak an admonishment over the comms. “About time you showed up. You were supposed to be here when we arrived.”

“My apologies,” Conrad said. “Traffic was murder.”

On the comms, he spoke like a grandfatherly statesman. Stepping out of the Land Rover, he became Malcom Smythe, a pretentious Brit. “Ladies! I’m here. Let’s go unearth my treasure.”

Atan crossed his arms. “Your treasure?”

Conrad ignored him. “Winston, hurry it up. Time’s a wasting.”

The driver, who had gone to the back of the Land Rover, reappeared with a large, black apparatus.

I want you to object to his presence.

Why would I do that?

You’ll know when you see him.

Talia did. Conrad’s guest had brought a camera rig. “You!” she shouted. “Put that away!”

The driver hefted the rig onto his shoulders and gave her a Who, me? look.

Talia could swear she recognized him. But from where? Her eidetic memory rarely left her drawing such a blank. The result was annoyance and frustration, exactly what Tyler wanted. “A cameraman?” she said to the fake Smythe. “Are you insane! We said no press.”

Atan strode over, with Janos close at his heels. “I warned you, did I not? This man is . . . How do you Americans