The Goddess Legacy

Chapter 12

Motes of dust floated in a spangling of sunlight that streamed from the window near Drake’s head. He watched their dance with blurry eyes before sitting up and glancing at Spencer, who stirred at the rustle from Drake’s bed. The sound of distant honking filled the room as Drake pushed himself to his feet. The clamor was a constant melody in a country where leaning on one’s horn was customary for virtually any reason. Drake glanced at his watch and yawned.

“Wonder if there’s anything to eat,” he said.

Spencer rubbed his face and sniffed the air. “God, that’s foul.”

“Don’t blame me. It’s the river.”

“Half the toilets in New Delhi must flush directly into it.”

“I suddenly lost my appetite,” Drake said, and moved to the door.

Allie was already awake and sitting on the couch, watching television with the sound muted. She looked up at Drake when he emerged from the bedroom and managed a small smile. “Morning,” she said.

“Good morning. You sleep okay?”

“Like the dead.” She gave him a sidelong glance and returned to the television. “Spencer was on TV this morning. Looked like his passport photo.”

“Damn. I wonder how long it will take Reynolds to pull a rabbit out of his hat?”

She shrugged. “Spencer up yet?”

“He should be right behind me. Any food in the kitchen?” Drake asked, padding to the refrigerator.

“A few odds and ends. If you’re a big fan of lentils and curry, you hit the jackpot.”

Drake made a face as Spencer walked from the bedroom and sat in the easy chair. Allie switched off the television and gave him a once-over. “You look like crap.”

“It’s the new homicidal maniac thing — all the best serial killers are doing it.” He felt his back pocket and withdrew Carson’s iPhone. “I don’t suppose you know how to unlock this?”

“It isn’t hard,” she said, holding out her hand.

“This one might be. It requires Carson’s fingerprint.”

She took it from him. “Oh. Then in that case, forget everything I said.”

“Carson showed me what he’d found so far. It’s all on there if we can get to it. Wonder if we can find someone who can crack it?” Spencer said.

Drake opened a plastic bottle of water and poured himself a glass. “Is that even a thing? iPhone cracking?”

“I have no idea.”

“Why don’t you tell me about the meeting you had with him, Spencer, and how you wound up with his phone? So far all I’ve heard is Drake’s summary.”

“He was really secretive. Picked an out-of-the-way restaurant in the old part of town. He took me through the story of the treasure and how it had been lost to history, and then showed me some satellite images and maps of northern India. He was convinced that was where it was located, but it was a pretty big area, and he was hoping to narrow it down.”

“How?” Allie asked.

“He found some guy who was offering a relic for sale that he was sure had a vital clue. Paid him something and promised to have the rest by Friday. That’s why he needed me — he was basically broke. Anyway, I agreed and told him I would get you guys to join in the hunt, which he was excited about. We had a few too many drinks, and then we went our separate ways. He stuck me with the check, and by the time I paid, he was gone. He was kind of hammered, and he forgot his phone. I went looking for him to return it, but no love. The next thing I know, the cops are banging on my hotel door, and then I’m dragged to the station and interrogated for way too long.” He paused and offered a halfhearted grin. “And here we are.”

“What was this relic?”

“A dagger. Made out of gold. He agreed to a hundred grand, so it must be heavy.”

“And he believed it was the key to locating the treasure?”

“That’s what he said. Guess we’ll never know now.”

“Did he mention any danger? Give you any reason to believe he feared for his life?”

“Not overtly. He was super melodramatic after a few drinks, though. I asked him why we were meeting in a poop hole, and he gave me some cryptic nonsense about the walls having ears. I interpreted that to mean he was afraid somebody would steal his find or beat him to the treasure.”

“Do you remember the area of India he showed you?” Drake asked.

“It was big — like about a hundred-mile square shot from Google Earth. Someplace in Kashmir.”

“You can’t be more specific?” Allie asked.

“I wasn’t trying to memorize it.”

“Any landmarks? Lake? Big mountain shaped like a goat head or something?” Drake asked.

“Not that I remember.”

Allie tilted her head and studied Spencer as though she’d had an idea. “I wonder if there are any scissors in this dump?”

“Why?” Spencer asked.

“Because they’d work better than a knife.”

“What are you talking about?”

“We need to alter your appearance. Best way is a haircut and some dye. And maybe some makeup to darken your complexion.”

Drake joined Allie on the sofa. “We can see if Roland will take us to a market.”

“I really don’t want to cut all this off,” Spencer protested.

“You were on TV. It’s got to go,” Allie said. “You stand out like a sore thumb.”

“I can wear a hat.”

“Then you’ll look like a white guy with a hat,” Drake reasoned. “She’s right.”

When they emerged from the houseboat, Roland was standing on the bow, smoking one of his endless string of cigarettes, looking like he hadn’t slept all night but wearing a different shirt. Allie told him what they wanted, and he nodded glumly, his expression that of a man who’d just drunk vinegar.

“I know a place,” he said, and flicked his smoke into the river.

An older green sedan was parked at the bank, the battered SUV nowhere to be seen. The Frenchman offered no explanation for its absence or the different car, and merely climbed behind the wheel while Drake and Allie slid into the rear seat.

Daylight had done little to improve their impression of the river, and when they bounced onto pavement from the dirt track that led to the water, Allie’s eyes widened at the sight of the buildings nearby.

“Yikes,” she said, and Drake nodded. The dwellings were little more than ten-by-ten cinder-block boxes painted garish hues. Half-naked toddlers played at the edge of the street as vehicles roared by, barely missing them as they honked their way into town. The sense of despair in the faces of the pedestrians trudging along the shoulder was palpable, the poverty borne like an unshakable burden by a population that would live and die in misery.

“How long have you lived in India, Roland?” Allie tried, and was rewarded with a scowl and a flash of dark eyes in the rearview mirror.

“Too long,” he said, and spit out his open window.

“I don’t suppose the air works,” Drake said.

Roland didn’t say anything more, which Drake took as a no.

The market turned out to be a medium-sized grocery store with a passable pharmacy section, and a helpful clerk assisted them with selecting hair dye. Allie stopped and picked out several containers of makeup, scissors, and three bags of fruit and a package of unleavened bread, as well as a jar of instant coffee that looked like it had been manufactured when Gandhi was still alive.

Back at the houseboat, Spencer sat unhappily while Allie clipped his hair to within an inch of his scalp, and then mixed a batch of ebony dye and slathered it on before pulling a plastic sack over his head.

“How long will this take?” he asked.

“I think it says twenty minutes,” Allie said.

“Think?”

“I don’t speak Hindi, but that seems about right.”

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” he said.

“No idea. This is a first for me.”

He scowled. “I thought women knew about stuff like this.”

“Yet another incorrect generalization about my gender, you misogynist. Believe it or not, they don’t teach cosmetology as part of the archeology curriculum.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

She gave him her best stink eye. “Uh-huh.”

When the dye was rinsed off and Spencer had showered, he returned with a dour expression. “I look like an idiot.”

Allie considered her work. “With the darker base and some sunglasses, you could pass for a bad Bollywood wannabe.”

“Is there such a thing as a good one?”

She ignored him and offered a cup of coffee. “Drake and I were talking about how to get your buddy’s phone unlocked.”

“He wasn’t really my buddy. He was one of my instructors when I was in the SEAL program…”

“Reynolds said something interesting last night,” Drake said. “I mean, besides threatening us with life in prison if we didn’t play ball.”

“Yeah? What?” Spencer asked.

“Reynolds mentioned that Carson was lying on a slab in the Subzi Mandi mortuary. Allie looked it up,” Drake said, pointing to her tablet computer on the coffee table.

Spencer nodded. “Right. Because he’s dead.” A look of understanding slowly spread across his face. “Dude. Are you for real?”

It was Drake’s turn to share a smile with Allie. “Don’t see a lot of other options, do you?”

“How do you plan to get in, much less find him?” Spencer asked quietly.

Drake shrugged. “Make it up as I go along. Judging by most of what I’ve seen here, things are so unorganized it shouldn’t be that big a hurdle.” He sat back and stared at the ceiling. “As to finding Carson, that’ll be pretty easy. My hunch is there aren’t a ton of headless horsemen in the Delhi morgue.”