The Pretender's Gambit Read online

  “You’re not getting out of this,” Sequeira said. “You’ve cost me too much money to allow such a thing.” He paused and smiled. “Brisa, cut the old man’s throat.”

  With a harsh cry, Annja ran toward Klykov, keeping her hands in sight above her head.

  “Do not kill Creed yet,” Sequeira ordered. “We can use her to—”

  Whatever Sequeira had been about to say was lost. Brisa smiled at Annja over Klykov’s shoulder, certain of herself. Thankfully, she waited and did not kill Klykov immediately.

  Annja thrust forward, reaching into the otherwhere, and surprising Brisa because the woman expected to easily dodge a punch that was coming too soon. The woman was even more surprised when steel glinted in Annja’s hands and a razor-sharp blade slashed her head, killing her instantly.

  The knife dropped from Brisa’s nerveless fingers and bounced off Klykov’s chest. The old gangster was already in motion, diving for the nearest assault rifle left lying on the floor.

  Whirling, hoping she was ahead of the bullets that she knew had to be coming at her, Annja flung the sword. The blade sped across the distance to the nearest mercenary. The tip pierced the man’s chest, killing him in less than a heartbeat and sinking into the man behind him, as well.

  Klykov blasted the other remaining mercenary, but Sequeira shot him, then chased Rao into hiding. As Klykov fell, Annja charged toward Sequeira and pulled the sword from the otherwhere once more. She stared at Sequeira across the muzzle of his weapon, seeing the troubled look on his face, then she swung the sword and took the gun and Sequeira’s face away.

  The dead man toppled backward as the mercenary who had been pierced by the sword but not killed brought up his weapon. Annja heard the gunshots and waited to feel the pain. Then she noticed the bullet hole in the man’s head as he fell back.

  Only a few feet away, Rao lay on the floor with a captured pistol in one hand. He kept the weapon pointed at the mercenary.

  Remembering Klykov, Annja returned to the old man’s side, fearing that he was dead. Instead, he had been shot in the same shoulder that had already been wounded.

  “It is bad luck to be shot in the same arm twice,” Klykov said.

  “It’s better not to get shot,” Annja pointed out.

  Klykov shrugged, then regretted it with a grimace. “I will keep that in mind.” He looked at her, then glanced at the sword in her hand. “You always seem to find these things.”

  Annja smiled at him. “I think it’s better that I do.”

  “Da. So do I.”

  Epilogue

  Three weeks after her return from Cambodia, Annja sat across from Bart McGilley at a table in Maria’s, one of their favorite restaurants. The first few days she had been back, Annja had caught up on her life—as much as she was able, and made apologies to Doug Morrell for the upior vampire story that she hadn’t been able to deliver.

  She was currently in a time crunch for the next segment on Chasing History’s Monsters, but she knew from experience that something would work out. Things always did.

  There had been some tension between her and Bart at first, and getting an agreement to have dinner had taken some careful planning. Both of them were busy.

  “So the elephant Benyovszky found in the storage rental led to an actual treasure?” Bart shook his head in disbelief.

  “It did.” Annja dipped a chip in queso and ate it.

  “How much treasure are you talking about?”

  Annja reached into her backpack and took out her tablet. She booted it up and opened the folder that had pictures of the temple treasure with her standing in front of it. It looked, she had to admit, like quite the haul.

  “How much do you think it’s worth?” Bart asked.

  “Millions.”

  He grinned, nonplussed. “You say that like it’s nothing.”

  “You’re talking about material worth. That’s not what I’m interested in. The texts we found document a whole period of history that we don’t know much about.”

  “You are aware how many people will care about that?” Bart lifted an eyebrow.

  Annja didn’t reply because she didn’t like the answer.

  “Definitely not millions,” Bart said.

  “Doesn’t matter,” Annja replied. “I care. Rao and the monks care. Other historians and anthropologists will care. They’ll care a lot.” She narrowed her eyes and frowned. “Are you still upset with me?”

  Bart looked shocked. “Why? Because you ran off into danger with a known Russian criminal?”

  “If you were upset, maybe we shouldn’t have agreed to do dinner.”

  Bart chuckled. “No, I’m not upset. Maybe still a little worried about you because I know you’ll do this sort of thing again.”

  “It’s kind of what I do.”

  “I know. I think I liked it better when I didn’t know so much.”

  “That’s not going to happen.”

  “Yeah, I get that. I also get how important this is to you.”

  Annja looked at him.

  “Benyovszky didn’t have a lot of connections outside of his neighborhood, and most of those people didn’t know him. You saw what his nephews were like. They didn’t care about his death.”

  Annja saw where he was going now. “But you did.”

  Bart nodded. “I did. I still do. You’ve asked me a couple times why I would be a homicide detective. Always getting there too late to save whoever turned up dead. Always dealing with grieving families. I do it because it makes a difference to those families. And I do it because I’m good at what I do. You, at least, have a television show that turns you into a celebrity. Granted, those fans would rather see you chasing after imaginary monsters—”

  “So not what I do,” Annja interrupted.

  “—like the other woman on that show does.”

  Annja raised her eyebrow. “You’ve seen Kristie’s work?”

  Bart shrugged. “A few of the guys around the office are fans of hers.”

  Annja thought about saying something regarding the other detectives’ taste in television, but she settled for another chip instead.

  “We both work in fields that we love and respect,” Bart said. “That’s all I’m getting at. And I wanted to apologize for not realizing exactly what it is that you do.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” Annja smiled his apology away.

  “It matters.”

  “It does, but the friendship we have doesn’t rely on what we do. We’re friends because we share a lot of other interests—and we make each other laugh.” Annja smiled at him again. “You can go a lot of places, meet a lot of people, but there are only a few places and a few people that feel like home.” She put her hand on his. “That’s what we have, and I wouldn’t trade that for anything.”

  “Me neither.”

  Annja took her hand back and picked up another chip.

  “Tell me something else,” Bart said.

  “What?”

  “Do you get any part of those millions you found? Because I don’t remember us discussing that. Maybe some kind of finder’s fee?”

  “Do you get a bonus for catching a killer?”

  “No, but it feels really good.”

  “Then why would you want anything else?”

  Bart picked up a tortilla, rolled it, dipped it in salsa and ate it. “You seriously don’t get anything for helping find all that bling?”

  Annja grinned. “Well, maybe I get a little of it. A percentage when—and if—the temple sells any of it. And I got a keepsake, as well.”

  “What?”

  Annja reached into her backpack and took out the protective case that contained the elephant. She removed the small statue and set it on the table.

  “You wanted that?” Ba
rt sounded like he couldn’t believe it.

  “I did.”

  A shrewd look spread across his face. “You realize that elephant is a piece of evidence in a murder investigation, right?”

  “Benyovszky’s murder isn’t being investigated anymore. I helped solve the murder, and I even made sure you got the guy who did it. I delivered him to you.”

  “Sure, but—” Bart leveled a forefinger at the elephant, “—that’s still evidence.”

  “I’m paying for dinner tonight,” Annja said. “That should buy me some lenience.”

  “I don’t know.” Bart pursed his lips.

  “I’ll throw in dessert.”

  “Better be a big dessert.”

  “All the gelato you can eat at Lecce Lecce’s in Hawthorne.” Hawthorne, New Jersey, was almost an hour away, but the dessert shop was a favorite of theirs, as well.

  Bart considered the offer, then finally nodded. “Fine. But not tonight. I’m not going to eat Mexican and then fill up on Italian ice cream. I’ll end up hurting myself.”

  Annja laughed at him, knowing this was what her relationship with him was all about. As someone who grew up in a state home with time out for foster care, friends were important to Annja. Bart was part of her earliest days in New York after she’d made the move from New Orleans. She didn’t ever want to lose that.

  * * * * *

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  ISBN-13: 9781460342121

  First edition November 2014

  The Pretender's Gambit

  Special thanks and acknowledgment to Mel Odom for his contribution to this work.

  Copyright © 2014 by Worldwide Library

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