Chapter Fifteen

Alex made it to the airport with time to spare, so once he was checked in and through security, he found a restaurant and sat down for some lunch and a drink.  The place was called Queso Quieres.  Alex’s Spanish was pretty rusty, but he didn’t think that was a particularly authentic name, or even proper grammar.

Well, he figured, maybe it’s authentic New Mexican. 

Alex ordered a margarita and burrito, and this time when the server asked if he wanted red or green, he picked red, based on what happened at breakfast.  He didn’t want to eat a bunch more super hot food right before getting on an airplane, and if green had been hot, then red must be the right choice.

Naturally, he was wrong.

At least this time, he had a margarita to help him cool off again.  The margarita tasted like it had been poured by a bartender that had personally opened the can him or herself.  Oh well.

Alex finished his lunch, declined another margarita, and made his way to the gate for his flight.  His timing was pretty good, and he’d only had to wait a few minutes before they started boarding.  Alex found himself back in the same seat he’d had on the flight down.  He hoped that he’d have a different passenger sitting next to him for this flight.  He was still a little exhausted from the previous seat-mate.

The flight attendant brought him a glass of whiskey, and Alex settled back into his seat and tried to relax.   What a weird morning it had been so far.  Alex sipped his whiskey and closed his eye while he waited for the boarding process to finish.

Someone sat down next to him, and Alex opened his eyes to see who it was.

He was relieved that it wasn’t Julia Child again.  He was quite surprised to discover that it was Tamara sitting next to him, however.  She didn’t seem particularly thrilled to see him, but when he thought about it, she never really had seemed thrilled to see him, so he figured he didn’t need to worry about it.

“Hello,” Alex said.  He laid his head back and closed his eyes again.

“Hey,” Tamara mumbled.  She got situated, and Alex heard her sigh heavily.  She asked the flight attendant for a ginger ale.

Alex had been hoping he’d be able to nap on the plane, but he didn’t have any such luck.  Meanwhile, Tamara kept making little irritated noises next to him.  When they’d been served their meal (surprisingly cold turkey sandwiches on pretzel buns), Alex tried to converse with Tamara a bit.

“I’m kind of surprised to see you, I figured you’d already moved down to Albuquerque, since you were shopping for restaurant equipment this morning,” Alex said.  “Was this just a scouting mission?”

Tamara muttered something, then said, “I’m not particularly surprised to see you.  I was actually getting ready to equip a new coffee shop.  I was supposed to sign a lease this afternoon, but then I bumped into you and Ares on the same day and I realized that there is just no getting away.  No matter where I go, I’m not going to be left alone.  The past refuses to stay where it belongs.”

Alex really had no idea what that was supposed to mean or how to reply to it, exactly.

He said, “So, you’re just going to keep toughing it out in Minneapolis, then?”

“Sure,” Tamara said.

“Well, I think that’s a good decision.  Don’t let the bastards get you down, you know?” Alex said.

Tamara gave him a cold look that let him know exactly how highly she regarded his opinion, and turned back to her sandwich.

The flight arrived in Minneapolis again at roughly eight o’clock.  Alex figured he’d call Mr. Darcy once he was back in the Cutlass and see whether he should drop off the box he’d picked up tonight, or wait until the next day.

Alex was eager to get off of the plane and out of the airport.  When the aircraft door had opened, Tamara half-muttered “See you around,” to him and hustled off of the plane.

As eager as he was to disembark, he was also not eager to potentially bump into Tamara a few more times on the way out of the airport, so he took his time gathering his things.  By the time he got off the plane, he couldn’t see Tamara anywhere in the terminal. 

He’d made it to the Cutlass and was digging in his pockets for the keys when he heard someone close by say, “Mr. Minor!”

Alex turned to see who was addressing him, and was met with a hard right hook to the jaw.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he came around again, but he quickly became aware that he was in the back seat of a large car, and that there was someone sitting on either side of him.

Someone said, “Well, look who’s waking up again.”

“I told you we should have just hit him with a tranquilizer dart,” another voice said.  “You do realize that there isn’t really that much skill involved in punching someone who isn’t expecting it, don’t you?  You’re not a knock out artist, you’re a guy who likes punching people.”

“Well, I’d like to argue with you,” said the first voice again, “but the fact is, I really do like punching people.”

Alex decided it was probably in the best interest of himself and his face to not seem too coherent yet.  So, rather than look around and ask questions like “Who are you?” and “Where are you taking me?” and “Seriously, couldn’t you have used the tranquilizer?” he did his best to seem groggy and incoherent.

A third voice said, “He’s not a very good actor, is he?”

Oh shit, Alex thought, just before getting punched again.

When he came around again, Alex discovered he was in what looked like a dining room.  He realized his hands were tied, but there was nothing stopping him from standing up.  He tried to stand, felt the world get all wobbly and wrong, and promptly sat down again.

He saw his bag on the table in front of him.  It had been emptied, and its contents were neatly arranged on the table as well.  At a glance, it looked like everything was still there.

After a bit longer, Alex heard a door open, and someone walked into the room behind him. The door clicked shut again, and Victor Steel walked past him, around the table, and sat down on the chair across from him.

“Good evening, Mr. Minor,” Victor said.  “Did you have a nice trip?”

Alex didn’t say anything in response.

Victor kept talking.  “I’m sorry about Paul hitting you.  I have very specifically told him to knock it off on several occasions.  Between him and Brandon wanting to shoot everyone with tranquilizer darts, it’s amazing I can ever get anyone to cooperate with me.  I tell them again and again that we’re all business men and the violence really isn’t necessary, and then they bring in yet another unconscious person.”

He looked at Alex, curious, then and said, “Why are you keeping your hands behind your back?”

Alex rolled his eyes and said, “Because they’re tied there.”

“Oh for Pete’s sake.  I really do have to apologize.  I just asked them to meet you and give you a ride here,” Victor said.

He walked around the table to where Alex was, and paused for a second.

“I understand that you probably really want to hit me in retaliation, and you’re justified in feeling that way.  I’d appreciate it if you don’t, however,” Victor said.

He untied Alex’s hands quickly, and commented, “I do have to give Paul a little credit. He knows how to tie a knot that is secure and easily undone at the same time.”

Alex really did want to hit Victor, and make a break for it, but he assumed that somewhere close by there were four or five guys, one of whom apparently had a supply of tranquilizer darts.  He decided to stay still, pay attention, see what information he might gather, and bolt when the opportunity presented itself.

He hoped an opportunity would present itself shortly.

Victor walked back to his place on the other side of the table, coiling the rope as he went.  He set the rope down on the table next to Alex’s belongings, sat down, and looked directly at Alex.

“Now then, Mr. Minor, perhaps you’d be kind enough to tell me where my spearhead is,” Victor said.

“I really don’t know,” Alex said. “And as I understand it, it’s not your spearhead.”

Victor looked mildly annoyed, and said, “OK, who did you give it to?”

“My employer,” Alex said.

“What does your employer want with it?” Victor said.

Alex wondered if perhaps now would be the best time to stop talking.  So far, he hadn’t actually given away any information.  On the other hand, it wasn’t like he really had much information to give away.  He didn’t know a damn thing, at least as it related to the spearhead Victor was all excited about.

“Just to get it back to its rightful owner,“ Alex said.

“I see,” Victor said.  He sat quietly for a moment, then he picked up the parcel that Alex was delivering from the table and examined it.

“Hmm, someone wants to be sure this isn’t opened before it gets to its destination,” he commented.  “I wonder what’s inside that’s so interesting that it needs to be hand-delivered and wrapped with tamper evident tape.”

“Whatever it is, it’s not for you,” Alex said.  He didn’t think that was likely to keep Victor from messing with it, but he had to say it anyway.

Victor smiled slightly at Alex, and produced something from the pocket of his jacket.  What he was holding became obvious to Alex when there was a sharp clicking sound, and a flash of polished steel, and whatever it was resolved itself into a knife.

“Well, let’s have a little peek anyway,” Victor said.

He sliced deliberately and carefully through the tape holding the box shut.  Alex squirmed slightly, but tried to catch himself before it was obvious.  He felt like a kid whose bully was going through his stuff in front of him, and he didn’t want to give Victor the satisfaction of making him uncomfortable.

Victor opened the box, and pulled out something that was wrapped in silk.  He raised an eyebrow, and set the box he’d opened to one side.  He set the contents of the box on the table in front of himself, and contemplated them for a moment, before carefully unwrapping the silk cloth. 

When the object was unwrapped enough to see what it was, Alex noticed that Victor suddenly seemed very uncomfortable, for a moment.  He composed himself so quickly that it would have been easy to miss if Alex hadn’t been paying attention.

Victor let the edges of the silk fall away, and there in the middle of a large square of fabric was a box, colored a deep rust brown.  Alex couldn’t tell if it was metal, or ceramic.  It was covered with ornamental engravings, and quite beautiful.  It was also, at least to Alex’s untrained eye, apparently very, very old.

Alex wondered briefly if he’d somehow entered an unknown, high-adrenaline world of antique collectors when he took this job.

Victor examined the box a little longer, with an impassive expression, before speaking.

He said, “This is very interesting.  It’s a good thing for you and your employer it doesn’t suit my collection.  Otherwise I might be inclined to keep it in exchange for the spearhead you’ve stolen from me.”

“Recovered from you,” Alex said.

Victor gave him a sharp glance, then smiled ever so slightly.  He wrapped up the box in its silk cloth again, and carefully placed it back in the cardboard box it had been in.

“Well, I’m afraid there’s evidence the box has been tampered with now, but in all honesty, I’m not particularly concerned about it,” Victor said.  “Gather your things, I’ll have someone give you a ride back to your car.”

He smiled at Alex and said, “And this time I’ll send you with someone who won’t immediately knock you out.  Call it a favor, from me to you.”

Victor was true to his word, Alex was relieved to discover.  Once Alex had his bag packed again, a man came and led him to a car.  As they walked, Alex realized that they were in Victor’s house. He recognized the foyer as they passed through it.

Victor’s employee drove Alex to the airport without a word, and stopped the car right next to the Cutlass.  Alex made a mental note to tell Mr. Darcy that the Cutlass had apparently been identified.

Alex got out of the car, and the driver sped away the second Alex had shut the door again.

“Jerk,” Alex muttered to himself.

He dug in his pockets for his keys, again, and got into the Cutlass.  He also dug out his phone, and called Mr. Darcy.  He wasn’t excited about the conversation he was about to have.

He also wondered what the hell the box he was carrying was.