Page 13

CHAPTER 13

T he roads were covered in snow and ice, dangerous as all hell. I wanted to say “Drive faster,” but Tanke was driving carefully on the slippery mountain roads and I couldn’t argue with erring on the side of caution. It would do us no good to end up in a ditch. Dmitri was just a dark form in the front passenger seat, as quiet as his companion.

“Dmitri.”

He didn’t turn his head. “Yes?”

“If the FSB has broken the code the Ferrells are using, that means they’re reading everything our intelligence agencies are sending and receiving.”

He shook his head. “No. The code the Ferrells are using is outdated.”

That didn’t make sense. “But it’s what Herc uses.”

“It is.”

“You’re saying there’s a more advanced one that isn’t broken?”

“Not broken yet.”

“But Herc isn’t using it?”

Dmitri didn’t respond. Herc was the prince of darkness in the CIA. Why the hell wasn’t he using the latest, most advanced cipher? Unless he considered Rocky Start communication to be second-tier.

Or Dmitri was trying to undercut my faith in Herc’s power.

Or. Herc’s power was fraying at the edges and the CIA hadn’t given him the new cipher.

And then there was Dmitri’s fixation on the treasure. Was that a line he was handing me? Had he put the two killers on my trail so he could save me and make me owe him? Trust him?

I used my cellphone to do a quick Google search. The result of the search raised more questions than it answered. But it gave me enough information to ask some of my own.

“Hey,” I said, getting Dmitri’s attention once more. “The Bactrian hoard made a world exhibition tour from 2006 to 2020. So there is no missing treasure. It’s all accounted for.”

Dmitri laughed. “You look on internet? Believe what it says? You Americans are so easy to fool.”

“Then enlighten me.”

He deigned to look back at me. “Yes, treasure was shown in museums around the world. The Afghan government of stooges put in place by the Americans did that. Made them lot of money from the museums. But that is after the fact. 1978 is when a Soviet archeologist discovered the funeral mounds. Your phone told you what? Six burial mounds excavated? That is the Bactrian hoard?”

“Yes.”

“There were seven.”

So, secret treasure. Well, it was possible. “And Pike and Ozzie took it?”

“ Stole it,” he said, sounding outraged.

I thought about pointing out that the Russians had stolen it from the Afghans, so his outrage was a joke, but instead I asked, “What did it consist of?”

“Treasure.”

Oh, that was informative. “What’s it worth?”

I couldn’t read Dmitri’s face. “The worth cannot be calculated.”

“I bet you tried.”

Dmitri chuckled. “It is priceless. Especially now that the rest of the Bactrian hoard has disappeared.”

“What do you mean, disappeared?”

“When the Taliban took over, many things disappeared,” Dmitri said. “Many people, too. Very sad.”

He acted like his country hadn’t made the same mistake of invading Afghanistan. It’s known as the “graveyard of empires,” having begun with Alexander the Great’s, but it seems no one wanted to learn from history. Of course, the Soviet Union had gone before us and the US had learned nothing from their most recent blunders, so who was dumber?

Still, if this was priceless treasure, it could easily be identified as coming from that particular dig. Anybody who tried to sell it would have a spotlight on them fast. “If you find it, what will you do with it?”

“One thing at a time,” Dmitri said.

“And if you can’t find it?”

“I will find it,” Dmitri said with surety.

“And you’re sure it’s connected to Rocky Start?”

He turned to look at me then. “Pike and Oz had it. They lived there and never left. Where else would it be? I do not see them trusting it to a bank, and it has not been sold. So it is there, and I will find it.”

“Pike might not be happy to see you,” I said. “If he knows where it is, you could have some trouble getting to it.”

Dmitri shrugged. “I am used to trouble. And that is my treasure.”

I thought about saying “Actually, that belongs to Afghanistan,” but that would be a waste of my breath, and the people who had made and buried the treasure were long gone. So, really, whose treasure was it? “So you’re going to cross Pike?”

He shrugged. “His happiness is not my concern. I want my treasure.”

“But you weren’t watching Pike,” I said. “You were watching Betty.”

He smiled. “A different kind of treasure.”

His face had softened and that smile was warm. “Just how well did you know Betty?”

He looked back over the seat at me, smug as ever. “That is not your concern.”

“If I’m taking you back to my town, it’s my concern,” I said. “Betty is a good woman who deserves protection. If you?—”

“I would die for her smile,” Dmitri said. “I would kill for her touch. I would not harm a hair on her head.”

I wanted to say “How about the rest of her?” but I didn’t want to step on his moment.

“What would you do, Max Reddy,” he said suddenly, “if fate took you away from your Rose? If in an instant, it was all gone, and decades passed so it was all just a memory? What would you do?”

The thought was like a punch to the gut.

And I was so dumb, I’d walked away from her voluntarily. I’d done that knowing I could get back, but Dmitri was right, anybody in our profession knew that life could turn on a dime.

“What would you do, Max Reddy?” Dmitri asked again.

“I’d get back to her as fast as I could.”

Dmitri nodded. “It has taken me many, many years. But the heart knows what it needs. Like you, I am going back to a fine woman. If she will have me,” he added, showing the first bit of uncertainty.

“You realize this fine woman would have no problem shooting you on sight if she doesn’t want you.”

“It would not be the first time.” He laughed. “I will be cautious.”

I stopped asking questions. Dmitri could handle his own relationship problems and search for his own, probably imaginary, treasure.

I concentrated on getting back to Rose.