Pirate

Forty-two

Alexandra Avery looked up to see the tour guide they’d robbed the night before standing just a few yards in front of them. He, at least, didn’t appear to see them. “How on earth did he get here?”

Jak handed the dog’s leash to Alexandra, then drew his gun. “I’ll take care of him.”

She reached up and pushed his arm down. “Put that away,” she said. “At the very least, keep it out of sight. This place is crawling with tourists, never mind we’re in Great Britain. They don’t do guns here.”

“You realize who that is?” Jak asked.

“Of course I do. What you should be asking yourself is why he’s here.” She glanced over at Ivan, glad to see that he’d not overreacted. Instead, his hand was in his pocket, undoubtedly gripping his handgun. “What’d you find out?”

“No tunnels here,” Ivan said.

She turned her attention back to the tour guide. Nigel something or other. Ridgewell. That was it. She smiled at him as she approached. “Mr. Ridgewell. What a surprise.”

He stopped in front of her, looking anything but pleased. “You were on my tour last night.”

“And found it fascinating. I take it you work here as well?”

“Where is it?”

“Where is what?”

“My notebook.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You, or maybe one of these two,” he said, nodding at Jak and Ivan, “stole it.”

“I assure you, I had nothing to do with it.”

“You were asking questions about Old English on my tour. And now here. Why?”

“Sightseeing.” She didn’t like the way he was grilling her. People were starting to stare. A large group of tourists were heading straight toward them. The place was becoming entirely too crowded. “You, of all people, should know that.”

“Were you following me?”

Ivan stepped forward, shoved his pocketed gun in Nigel’s side. “I’ve had enough of your questions.”

Great. So much for believing he was the cooler head, Alexandra thought.

She began to wonder if Fisk didn’t have his own designs on the treasure. And wouldn’t that be ironic? Of course, if that was the case, she was going to have to watch her step.

At this point, it didn’t matter. What did was making sure someone didn’t call the police. With these two, and their happy trigger fingers, that would be disastrous. She placed her hand on Ivan’s arm. “Let’s keep it low-key. Maybe take it somewhere else where we don’t have the entire countryside acting as witnesses.”

He nodded, then leaned in close to Nigel. “My suggestion? If you walk very slowly to the car park, I promise not to pull the trigger.”

Ten seconds later, they were jostled by a dozen tourists, trying to squeeze past them. One woman, bundled up like an eskimo, ran straight into Nigel, mumbling an apology as she hurried past. If they weren’t careful, they’d lose him in the next group that was headed their way, and so Alexandra handed Jak the dog’s leash, then moved to Nigel’s other side, linking her arm through his. “Best to cooperate. These two are loose cannons, and I can’t guarantee your safety.”

The man swallowed, his face turning pale, as he suddenly realized the danger he’d stumbled into. “I won’t tell anyone. Just let me go.”

“Actually,” she said, “we were coming to see you next. But since you’ve saved us the trouble, this works out fine.” She smiled at him, hoping to get him to relax, at least until they were at the car. “I promise you won’t be hurt if you come along quietly. We need a few more translations that have come up.”