“This has to be the place,” said Vallin, looking up at a run-down, three-story apartment building. A steady downpour didn’t dampen Vallin’s thirst for revenge. He couldn’t wait to wipe the smug look from North’s face when he got his hands on the map.

  “I don’t know, sir,” said one of Vallin’s three hired killers, checking his hand-held tracking device. “I’m not getting a signal anymore.”

  “Any number of things could have happened,” countered Vallin, unholstering his pistol. “They’re up there, I know it.”

  “Yes, sir,” responded the mercenary, placing the tracker into a pouch on his vest and drawing his 9mm pistol.

  Vallin crept forward, looked up the rickety stairs leading to the third floor, and then glanced back at his men waiting right behind him. He raised three fingers as a warning and slowly lowered them one by one. When the last finger fell, the four men rushed up the stairs. Vallin was the first to arrive and kicked in the door to Yuri’s safe house. The next two shooters ran past him with their pistols at the ready and stormed into the tiny one-room apartment, screaming for North and Swiftwater to remain still.

  Right away, Vallin could sense that something was wrong. The room was too quiet.

  “Clear, sir,” reported one of the men. “There’s no one here.”

  Vallin holstered his pistol and walked inside. He dropped his shoulders and swore when he spotted a red balloon floating in the middle of the room with a note attached to it. Vallin walked over and grabbed the piece of paper.

  Sorry, but you’re late. Kim and I have gone out for dinner.

  Better luck next time,

  Connor North and Kim Swiftwater.

  Vallin crumpled up the note and hurled it across the room. He clenched his jaw so tight that it hurt. His body shook with white-hot rage.

  “I’m going to gut that man and watch him bleed out if it’s the last thing I do,” swore Vallin.

  “Sir,” said one of the men covering the door.

  “What is it?” yelled Vallin.

  “I can hear sirens coming this way. Someone must have called the police.”

  Vallin stood as still as a statue, grinding his teeth.

  A tall, muscle-bound Asian man grabbed Vallin by the arm and shook him. “Sir, we’ve got to leave. Now!”

  Vallin yanked his arm free and nodded bitterly. “Yes, yes, you’re right. There’ll be other times. Let’s go, men.”

  The Asian merc rounded up his friends and led them down the stairs to their waiting car.

  Vallin shuffled his feet, wondering how Rin was going to take the news. If she were half as brutal as her reputation, Vallin would rather blow his brains out than endure the pain she would inflict on him before beheading him.

  “Oh man, I would have paid a million bucks to see Vallin’s face when he found the safe was empty,” said Connor.

  “I’m sure he took it all in stride,” added Kim, chuckling.

  “Laugh all you want, you two,” said Yuri. “But I had to pay good money for that room.”

  “I hope it wasn’t a lot,” said Kim. “Because, in my humble opinion, it wasn’t fit for a rat to live in.”

  “True. But it was available. Unfortunately, I paid the owner for two nights in advance.”

  “And how much did that cost you?” queried Connor.

  “Fifty dollars, but fifty dollars is still fifty dollars.”

  Kim and Connor broke out laughing.

  “What’s so funny?” protested Yuri.

  “Yuri, it’s not your money to begin with,” said Connor. “It’s Jason’s, and I hope you bleed his bank account dry.”

  “You don’t like Mister Hamilton very much, do you?”

  Kim saw a flash of bitterness in Connor’s eyes and decided to change the subject. “So, Yuri, how much is this new palatial mansion costing you?”

  Yuri looked around the mid-sized apartment. “A bit more than fifty dollars, but I must agree with you, pretty lady, that last place sucked.”

  Kim smiled. “Do you know when our new clothes and food will arrive?”

  Yuri checked his watch. “Any minute now.”

  As if on cue, there was a knock on the door.

  Yuri drew his pistol and edged to the door. “Who is it, please?”

  A man behind the door barked, “Yuri, it’s me, Andrei. Open this friggin’ door, or I’ll kick it open and then kick your ass.”

  “I’d best do what he says. Andrei can be a handful when he’s pissed.” Yuri holstered his weapon and opened the door.

  Kim and Connor both blinked in surprise. Instead of a mountain of a man, with knuckles dragging on the floor, Andrei was barely five feet tall, with a pleasant smile on his round face, wearing a purple velvet tracksuit with a thick gold chain around his neck.

  “Evening,” said Andrei.

  “You’re late,” remarked Yuri.

  Andrei looked up at Yuri and shook his head. “I’m late when I say I’m late.”

  To Kim and Connor’s surprise, the two men raised their fists and moved around the room as if a fight were imminent. Instead, they dropped their hands and warmly embraced each other, as only true friends can.

  “Yuri, you’re as ugly as ever,” Andrei said mockingly.

  “And you’re still short.”

  “But still good-looking.”

  The two comrades let go of each other, and Andrei motioned for two men standing in the hallway to enter the room. One of the young men carried a couple of suitcases while his partner’s arms were filled with bags of take-out food. Andrei brought out a wad of hundred-dollar bills and paid his men before ushering them out of the apartment.

  “Wow, what did you get?” asked Kim, smelling the mix of mouth-watering aromas in the air.

  “Let me see,” said Andrei. “There are salad rolls, beef satays, a couple of curry dishes, a sweet and sour stir fry, a ginger stir fry, a chili beef, and plenty of rice. And, of course, three bottles of vodka.”

  “What are you going to drink, partner?” quipped Yuri.

  Andrei smirked. “You under the table, Yuri Uvarov.”

  Kim shook her head at all the male posturing and said, “The food sounds delicious.”

  “Come, let’s eat,” proposed Yuri, clearing off the dinner table.

  “It all sounds nice and spicy,” said Connor, inspecting the food.

  Kim elbowed Connor in the ribs. “Get it into you, Captain. Trust me; you’ll like it.”

  “Yeah, but I may not like it so much when it comes out of me.”

  After dinner, Andrei’s associates returned with a large plastic container and laid it on one of the beds; as before, Andrei paid his men and sent them off to do other tasks.

  “What’s in the box?” asked Connor.

  “A secure laptop, three new phones, a portable scanning device, IDs, and whatever else Yuri asked for,” replied Andrei, patting his full belly.

  “A black marketer’s black marketer,” quipped Kim.

  “In a sense, yes,” replied Andrei. “He scratches my back, and, from time to time, I scratch his.”

  “If it’s none of my business, please tell me so, but I’d really like to know how you two vagabonds met,” said Connor.

  “That’s easy. We used to work for the Horatio Group,” explained Yuri, reaching for an open bottle of vodka on the table.

  “I’m sorry…the what?” queried Kim.

  “Mercenaries,” explained Connor.

  “Not just mercenaries, but well-paid ones at that,” said Andrei proudly.

  Yuri shot back a glass of vodka and continued. “At the time, I was a helicopter pilot, and Andrei was my crew chief. We were good—”

  “Damned good!” interjected Andrei.

  Yuri filled his and Andrei’s glasses and toasted his comrade. “Yes, we were damned good at what we did. That was, until one day in Liberia when we were operating against some anti-government rebels. I was ordered to fire upon a group of insurgents. Only they weren’t rebels. It was a wedding party, so I refused to open fire. I knew right there and then that a local warlord was trying to settle a score and had fed lousy intelligence to our people.”

  “That’s horrible,” said Kim, hanging off every word.

  “Unfortunately, these kinds of incidents happen more often than you would think,” said Connor. “It doesn’t matter where you’re serving or whose army you’re in; someone will always try to exploit you for personal gain.”

  “Just the thought of being told to open fire on innocent civilians turns my stomach. What did you do next, Yuri?” asked Kim.

  “I told my base what I could see and continued to refuse to fire. So my wingman was ordered to attack, and the bastard did so without hesitation.”

  “He at least got what was coming to him,” said Andrei bitterly.

  “What happened?” asked Connor.

  “His chopper was hit by ground fire and crashed in the jungles of northern Liberia. We heard years later that he somehow survived the crash but was captured by some rebels who had lost loved ones at the wedding. They tortured him for days before dousing him in gasoline and burning what was left of him alive.”

  “Well, that’s a gruesome way to go,” commented Connor. “But as you say, he had it coming to him.”

  “So, what happened to you two when you returned to your base?” asked Kim.

  “We were arrested and locked up in cells,” said Yuri. “But Andrei and I had other ideas and broke out of jail. After a few small missions together, we finally made our way to Pakistan and decided to go our separate ways. I set up shop in Europe and the Americas, and Andrei in the Far East. And that’s all there really is to tell.”

  “Wow, that’s quite some story,” remarked Kim.

  “And every word of it is true,” said Andrei, toasting his comrade.

  “You two have lived quite the lives,” noted Connor.

  The two comrades filled their glasses and toasted each other. “To friendship.”

  Connor and Kim lifted their soft drink cans and said, “To friendship.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  The rhythmic but loud snoring coming from Yuri and Andrei passed out on the couch surrounded by empty vodka bottles and food cartons reminded Connor of his younger days when he and his fellow officer candidates would get a rare weekend to themselves. They’d cut loose and drink far too much, only to instantly regret their decision on Monday morning’s run through the obstacle course.

  “Connor, they’re here,” said Kim, turning the secure laptop so they could see Knox’s and Hamilton’s faces on the screen.

  Hamilton waved at Kim. “Right off the bat, Henry and I want to say that we’re so relieved that you’re both still alive.”

  “Thanks,” replied Kim. She and Connor had earlier agreed that she would do the talking to prevent him from saying something stupid out of anger. “Sir, have you had a chance to examine the drawing of the map I sent you an hour ago?”

  “Yes and no,” responded Knox. “I think we can both agree that the map is of Western Greenland and parts of North America; however, until a cartographer examines your rendition of the map in detail, it’s nothing more than a drawing.”

  Kim was taken aback. “Sir, I can assure you that what you’re looking at is a near-perfect copy of the Grenier map.”

  “We don’t doubt that. But Mister Hamilton and I would both feel better if an expert looked it over.”

  Kim nodded. “It’s your money. Do you have someone in mind?”

  “Yes. We’ve already hired Professor Andrew Forest from the University of New York to examine the map. He’s an expert in medieval cartography and has assured us that he’ll get back to us within the hour.”

  “That’s pretty fast,” whispered Connor to Kim.

  “If Professor Forest comes back and says the drawing mirrors the style of maps from the medieval period, then what?” asked Kim.

  “Then we’d like you to try and find the treasure before anyone else does,” said Hamilton.

  Connor looked at Kim and rubbed his fingers together off-screen.

  Kim paused for effect. “I don’t know. I’m starting to feel like there’s a target on my back.”

  Connor looked away, grinning. Kim was doing fine without him.

  “I would naturally pay you and Connor well if you were to continue helping me,” said Hamilton.

  “We’ll have to talk about it. I don’t want to put words into his mouth, but I think Connor’s nearly ready to pack his bags and head home to Africa.”

  Hamilton looked over at Connor. “Please don’t leave. Stick with it until at least Professor Forest gets back to us.”

  “I’ll think about it,” responded Connor.

  “Please do.”

  Kim said, “I don’t think there’s anything else we can discuss right now, Mister Hamilton, so I guess we’ll hear from you in an hour or so.”

  “Yes, and we hope to have some positive news for you when we speak again.”

  The call ended, and the screen went dark.

  “So, how did I do?” Kim asked Connor.

  He smiled and said, “Brilliantly. I know you won’t stop until you’ve found the treasure, but they don’t know that. And if we’re going to continue risking our lives, we should at least be well reimbursed for our efforts.”

  “I’d call you a mercenary like our two sleeping friends, but aside from the truth, I kind of like money, too.”

  Connor stood and rummaged through Andrei’s jacket for some money.

  “What are you thinking?” Kim asked.

  “Coffee. I need a coffee and maybe something to eat that won’t upset my stomach.”

  Kim’s stomach rumbled. “Count me in.”

  Thousands of kilometers away, Vallin lay in bed, smoking a cigarette, watching the ceiling fan spin in circles. He saw it as a metaphor for his life that seemed to be going nowhere. The faint hint of perfume that hung in the air from the young prostitute he’d shared his bed with last night helped reinforce his existence’s empty loneliness.

  There was a knock at the door.

  Vallin’s heart beat faster. He slid out of bed and slipped on his boxers. Vallin drew his pistol from his holster hanging over a chair next to the rest of his clothes and warily approached the door. “Yes, who is it?” he asked.

  “It’s me, Rin. Open the door.”

  A cold chill crept down Vallin’s back. He’d been expecting her all night long while at the same time foolishly hoping that their paths would never cross again. His mouth became dry. Vallin ran his tongue over his lips.

  “Come on, Jean, open the door,” demanded Rin. “I want to talk to you.”

  Vallin glanced over at the closed windows but knew that was a non-starter. He was ten floors up, and any fall from this height would be fatal. He was trapped. “Just one second,” said Vallin, composing himself. If he was going to die, Vallin decided he would rather die on his feet, facing Rin, rather than shamelessly begging on his knees. So, he lowered his pistol, flipped on the lights, and opened the door.

  “Took you long enough,” Rin said, walking in and holding a cardboard tray with two large cups of coffee in it.

  Stunned, Vallin moved aside and hurriedly threw on a T-shirt. “Uh, what brings you here so early in the morning?”

  Rin put the tray on a table, revealing a pistol in her hand. “You do, Jean. Please drop your gun, or I’ll be forced to kill you.”

  Vallin shook his head. He swore as he threw his pistol on his bed and raised his hands.

  “I saw the girl you were with last night leaving the hotel,” said Rin. “She looked like a lot of fun. A bit young and thin for my tastes, but hey, we’re all different. Aren’t we?”

  “If you say so.”

  “Try not to sound so bitter, Jean. I didn’t come here to kill you. I wanted to but was overruled by my superiors.”

  “Lucky for me.”

  Rin sighed. “Yes, it would appear so.”

  Vallin scrunched his brow. “If you’re not here to kill me, then why are you here?”

  Rin indicated at the chairs by the table. “We need to talk.”

  Vallin looked down at Rin’s pistol. “At gunpoint?”

  “Oh, this? This is life insurance.” Rin lowered her pistol and laid it on the table. “I knew you’d be on edge when I arrived and didn’t want to be accidentally shot by you. Now lower your hands, Jean, and take a seat.”

  Vallin cautiously sat. He kept one eye on Rin and the other on her pistol just out of arm’s reach.

  “There’s no need to tell me about the fiasco at the warehouse. I was there right after you left and tidied up the mess you left behind.”

  The fact that she’d shot anyone left behind—wounded or not—angered Vallin. Some of them had families and didn’t deserve to be coldly executed with a bullet to the head.

  “I also know that you missed capturing North and Swiftwater by mere minutes. It would appear, Jean, that if you didn’t have bad luck, you’d have none at all.”

  “So, I’m cursed with bad luck; what of it?”

  “Well, that’s the problem. My employers expect results, and so far, you and your boss haven’t done spectacularly well in that regard.”

  “What can I say? You’re right; I’ve had a run of bad luck recently, but I can feel that things are about to change.”

  Rin’s thin lips curled into a smile. “I do hope so. For your sake.”

  Vallin wasn’t sure where their conversation was going, so he took hold of a coffee, ripped off its lid, and sipped. “My compliments. How did you know I like cappuccinos?”

  “I didn’t. I like them and just happened to buy two this morning.”

  “Still, a good choice.”

  Rin’s voice turned cold. “Jean, I didn’t come here to discuss coffee. My employers asked me to find out how you intend to get hold of the map. If I don’t think your next move is sound, I hate to say it, but I’ll get my second chance to kill you,” Rin picked up her pistol and aimed it at Vallin. “So, think fast.”

  “I don’t have to. I already have a plan,” Vallin replied calmly.