King Solomon's Diamonds

9 The Caller

“How did the hearing go?” Nina asked Sam on Skype. Behind her, he could see seemingly endless rows of shelves stacked with ancient artifacts and gloved people with white coats cataloguing various pieces.

“I haven’t heard back from Paddy or Purdue yet, but I’ll be sure to fill you in as soon as Paddy calls me this afternoon,” Sam said, exhaling with some relief. “I’m just glad that Paddy is there with him.”

“Why?” she frowned. Then she chuckled in amusement. “Purdue usually wraps people around his little finger without even trying. You don’t have to fear for him, Sam. I wager he will walk out without even having to get overnight lube for a local jail cell.”

Sam laughed with her, thoroughly amused at both her faith in Purdue’s abilities and her jest about Scottish jails. He missed her, but he would never admit it out loud, let alone tell her directly. But he wanted to.

“When are you coming back so I can buy you a single malt?” he asked.

Nina grinned and leaned forward to kiss the screen. “Aw, do you miss me, Mr. Cleave?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he smiled, looking about him self-consciously. But he loved looking into the beautiful historian’s dark eyes again. It pleased him even more that she was smiling again. “Where is Joanne?”

Nina took a quick glance behind her, the motion of her head stirring life into her long dark tresses as they were swept up by her movement. “She was here… wa-wait… Jo!” she cried to somewhere beyond the screen. “Come say hello to your crush.”

Sam chuckled and laid his forehead in his hand, “Is she still after my drop-dead gorgeous ass?”

“Aye, she still thinks you are the dog’s bollocks, precious,” Nina joked. “But she is more in love with her sea captain. Sorry.” Nina winked as her eyes trailed her approaching friend, Joanne Earle, the history teacher who had helped them uncover the treasure of Alexander the Great.

“Hi Sam!” The jovial Canadian waved at him.

“Hey Jo, are you well?”

“I’m doing great, hon,” she beamed. “This is a dream come true for me, you know. I’m finally getting to have fun and travel, and all while teaching history!”

“Not to mention that finder’s fee, hey?” he winked.

Her smile vanished, relinquished for a gawk of greed as she nodded and whispered, “I know, right? I could so do this for a living! And as a bonus, I landed a sexy old Canuck with a fishing charter business. Sometimes we go out on the water just to watch the sun set, you know, when it is not too shy to show.”

“Sounds brilliant,” he smiled, silently praying for Nina to take over again. He adored Joanne, but she could talk a man’s head off. As if she read his mind, she shrugged and smiled, “Okay, Sam, I’m going to give you back to Dr. Gould. Bye now!”

“Bye-bye, Jo,” he said with a raise of his eyebrow. Thank God.

“Listen, Sam. I’ll be back in Edinburgh in two days. I’m bringing with me the booty we made off with for donating the Alexandrian treasure, so we’ll have a reason to celebrate. I just hope Purdue’s legal team puts out so that we can celebrate together. If you’re not on some assignment, that is.”

Sam could not tell her about the unofficial assignment Purdue had put him on to find out as much about Karsten’s business affiliations as possible. For now, it had to remain a secret between the two men alone. “No, just some research here and there,” he shrugged. “But nothing important enough to keep me away from a pint.”

“Lovely,” she said.

“So will you be going straight back to Oban?” Sam asked.

She wrinkled her nose. “Don’t know. I considered it, since Wrichtishousis is off limits right now.”

“You’re aware that yours truly has a quite lavish townhouse in Edinburgh as well,” he reminded her. “It’s no historical fortress of myth and legend, but it does have a very cool Jacuzzi and a full fridge of cold beverages.”

Nina chuckled at his boyish attempt to lure her to his place. “Alright, alright, you’ve convinced me. Just pick me up from the airport and make sure your car’s boot is empty. I have a shit load of luggage this time, light packer that I am.”

“Aye, I will, lassie. Got to go, but you’ll text me your arrival time?”

“I shall,” she said. “Stay hard!”

Before Sam could throw a suggestive comeback to counter Nina private joke between them, she’d ended the call. “Shit!” he groaned. “I have to get faster than that.”

He got up and headed to the kitchen for a beer. It was almost 9 p.m., but he fought off the urge to bother Paddy, begging for an update on Purdue’s trial proceedings. He was quite nervous about it all, and this made him a little reluctant to phone Paddy. Sam was in no position to receive bad news tonight, but he hated being so predisposed to the negative outcome scenario.

“Strange how courage fills a man when he is holding a beer, don’t you reckon?” he asked Bruichladdich, who was stretching lazily on the lobby chair just outside the kitchen door. “I think I’ll give Paddy a call. What do you think?”

The large ginger cat gave him an indifferent look and leapt onto the protruding wall section next to the stairs. He slowly stole towards the other end of the mantle and laid down again — right in front of a picture of Nina, Sam, and Purdue after the ordeal they’d survived after searching for the Medusa Stone. Sam pursed his lips and nodded, “I thought you would say that. You should be a lawyer, Bruich. You are very persuasive.”

He picked up the phone, just as there was a knock at the door. The sudden rapping almost had him dropping his beer and he gave Bruich a glance in passing. “Did you know that was going to happen?” he asked under his breath as he peeked through the peephole. He looked at Bruich. “You were wrong. It’s not Paddy.”

“Mr. Cleave?” the man outside implored. “May I please have a word?”

Sam shook his head. He was not in the mood for visitors. Besides, he really enjoyed the solitude from strangers and demands. The man knocked again, but Sam placed his finger over his mouth, gesturing for his cat to keep quiet. In response, the feline just turned around and curled up to sleep.

“Mr. Cleave, my name is Liam Johnson. An associate of mine is related to Mr. Purdue’s butler, Charles, and I have some information that might be of interest to you,” the man explained. Inside Sam, a war waged between his comfort and his curiosity. Dressed in only a pair of jeans and socks, he was not in the mood to look decent, but he had to know what this Liam bloke had to say.

“Hang on,” Sam cried inadvertently. Well then, I suppose my curiosity got the better of me. With an anticipatory sigh, he opened the door. “Hello Liam.”

“Mr. Cleave, good to meet you,” the man smiled nervously. “May I please come in before someone sees me here?”

“Certainly, after I’ve seen some identification,” Sam replied. Two old ladies of the gossiping variety passed by his front gate, looking taken aback at the handsome, rugged journalist’s shirtless appearance as they nudged each other. He tried not to laugh, giving them a wink instead.

“That certainly made them move along faster,” Liam grinned as he watched them hasten, holding out his credentials to Sam for scrutiny. Surprised at the swiftness with which Liam produced his wallet, Sam could not help but be impressed.

“Inspector/Agent Liam Johnson, Sector 2, British Intelligence, and all that,” Sam murmured as he read the fine print, checking for the little authentication words Paddy had taught him to look for. “Alright, mate. Come in.”

“Thank you, Mr. Cleave,” Liam said as he stepped inside quickly, shivering as he shook slightly to rid the loose rain droplets that could not penetrate his pea coat. “Can I put my brolly on the floor?”

“No, I’ll take that,” Sam offered and hung it upside down over a special coat rack where it could drip down onto his rubber mat. “Want a beer?”

“Muchly thanks,” Liam replied happily.

“Really? Did not expect that,” Sam smiled as he picked up a can from his fridge.

“Why? I am half Irish, you know,” Liam jested. “I venture we could outdrink the Scots any day.”

“Challenge accepted, my friend,” Sam played along. He directed his guest to sit down on the two-seat couch he kept for visitors. Compared to the three-seater where Sam spent more nights than in his bed, the two-seater was a lot firmer and not so lived in as the other.

“Now, what are you here to tell me?”

Clearing his throat, Liam suddenly became quite earnest. Looking very concerned, he answered Sam with a softer tone of voice. “Your research came up on our radar, Mr. Cleave. Luckily I caught it right off the bat, because I have a keen reaction to movement.”

“No shit,” Sam mumbled as he took a hefty few swigs to dampen the worry he felt at being detected so easily. “I saw that when you stood on my doorstep. You are a man of keen observation and have swift response to it. Am I correct?”

“I am,” Liam replied. “That is why I instantly noticed that there was a security breach in the official records of one of our highest executives, Joe Carter, head of MI6.”

“And you are here to deliver an ultimatum for a fee lest you leak the perpetrator’s identity to the Secret Intelligence dogs, right?” Sam sighed. “I don’t have the means to pay off blackmailers, Mr. Johnson, and I do not like people who do not just come out and say what they want. What do you want from me to keep this under wraps, then?”

“You misunderstand, Sam,” Liam hissed firmly, his demeanor instantly revealing to Sam that he was not as mild mannered as he seemed. His green eyes flashed, ablaze with the vexation of being accused of such banal desires. “Which is the only reason I would let that insult slide. I am Catholic and we cannot prosecute those who insult us out of innocence and ignorance. You don’t know me, but I tell you now that I’m not here to shake you down. Jesus Christ, I’m above that!”

Sam kept to himself that Liam’s reaction literally frightened him, but after a moment, he realized that his assumption, fathomable as it was, was uncalled for before he’d allowed the man to properly state his business. “I apologize, Liam,” he told his guest. “You are right to be pissed at me.”

“I’m just so tired of people who assume things about me. I suppose it comes with the turf. But let us put that aside and I’ll tell you what is going on. Since Mr. Purdue’s rescue from that woman’s house, the high commission of British Intelligence has issued a clamp down on security measures. I think it came from Joe Carter,” he explained. “At first I could not figure what would make Carter respond in such a way to, if you pardon me, a common citizen who just happens to be wealthy. Now, I don’t work for the intelligence sector for nothing, Mr. Cleave. I see suspicious behavior a mile away and the way in which a powerful man like Carter responded to Mr. Purdue’s being alive and well struck a bit of a chord with me, you know?”

“I see what you mean. There are things I can unfortunately not disclose about the research I am doing here, Liam, but I can assure you that you are dead-on about that suspicious feeling you have.”

“Listen, Mr. Cleave, I am not here to squeeze information out of you, but if what you know, what you are not telling me, pertains to the integrity of the agency I work for, I need to know,” Liam urged. “Fuck Carter’s agenda, I’m after the truth.”