Free Sunken Pyramid (Rogue Angel) by Alex Archer Page A

into our circle, and so it was on me to do something about her. She had connections and leads, most certainly. But she also had a big mouth. I overheard her discussing with a few of the other archaeologists yesterday on the mounds outing, dancing much too close to the topic of our circle. Couldn’t let her keep talking, you understand.”
    “I completely understand,” Garin said. So Aeschelman’s confession was actually a warning to him: play by the rules or don’t play at all. Keep the artifact smuggling ring a secret or die. But Aeschelman didn’t know Garin had his own set of rules, and poison or guns or any other sort of lethal weapon would not truly hurt him. “I understand completely, Willamar.”
    “Good, Mr. Knight. You were recommended to me, but I do not know you.”
    “Some of your associates do.”
    “Yes, they say you favor medieval relics. I just want to make it clear that we are a clandestine group.”
    “Crystal.” The dying woman was of no concern to Garin, but he suspected Annja would meddle. Three deaths at the conference would be too much of a mystery for her to ignore, and she would wrongly think that they were connected. “I want a good look at it. Beforehand. I want to make certain it’s real before I spend my money.”
    “Everything within our little circle is real, Mr. Knight. You should know that by now.” Aeschelman reached under his collar and tugged out a leather cord. A gold disk hung from it, twice the size of a silver dollar and thick, gleaming despite the gloomy day. Similar in appearance to an Olympic medal, but clearly made of real gold, Garin imagined it must feel heavy hanging from the man’s neck. It was shiny and smooth, and the image of a beautiful bird had been pressed into the center of it. “This is real. I acquired it Thursday night from an archaeologist Mrs. Hapgood told me about. He was not able to come to the conference this weekend, but a few of his acquisitions will be available. Not this one, though. This one I am keeping for myself.”
    “The medallion is striking.”
    “And genuine. Everything within our circle is all real, I assure you.”
    “Your medallion, is that—”
    “Mayan, Mr. Knight.” Aeschelman tucked it back under his shirt and extended his hand. Garin shook it. “I will let you know when the items arrive tomorrow. You will get a close look at what you’re interested in. A private viewing, as you—and your money—have requested.” He turned away and walked toward the Madison Arms, pausing only to wait for a break in the traffic.
    Garin waited several minutes, listening to the thunder, watching the people gather up the remainder of their lunches and scurry into the capitol as the first big drops of rain fell.
    Garin didn’t mind the rain.
    He crossed the street at a leisurely pace, his palms still itching in anticipation.

Chapter 10
    The soda went down fast, the caffeine lessening her headache, but not chasing it away entirely. Food—that would do the trick. Annja was famished, having eaten little at breakfast and not yet found time for lunch. She was so hungry her fingers faintly trembled. Hopefully, she and the detective would stop for a bite in Lakeside. “Linner,” Rembert called it, a late lunch/early dinner. It would give her an opportunity to better look at the material in the folder. She’d call Rembert then, let him know where she was.
    It was onerous to read in the unmarked Impala. The rain had started just as they left the station, intermittent big fat drops plopping heavily against the windows. They hadn’t traveled more than a handful of blocks before the sky opened up. The hammering rain and slapping, dragging wipers—which were in need of replacing—made it difficult to concentrate.
    Some pages were printouts with food smudges in the margins; some newspaper clippings with tiny type—about two unsolved murders, judging from the headlines; an assortment of note paper of various sizes—all with Edgar’s