The Cathari Treasure (Cameron Kincaid) (3 page)

“What is this place?” asked the
woman.

“This is the back lobby of the
Hotel West.  The restaurant was part of the hotel before Claude and I took
over.”

“Hmm,” said the woman.

“We will be going through here,”
Cameron gestured to a door behind the stairs.  “My car is parked in the
hotel garage.  I can take you home.”

The older woman kept her arm
held tight around the younger as they walked into the underground garage. 
Cameron’s black Mercedes was parked behind a concrete column not far from the
door.  The car chirped as he remotely unlocked the door with his key
chain.  The woman looked at him with disgust, “This is an expensive car.”

“Lets say it’s an indulgence of
mine,” said Cameron.  He opened the passenger doors for the women.

The woman stuck her head into
the back seat of the car and smirked.  She stood up and helped the young
woman into the back seat, shut the back door, and then sat in the front. 
Cameron’s eyes darted over the other cars of the garage.  He tilted his
head to peer for the movement of a shadow from behind any of the underground
garages concrete columns.  Cameron tossed his keys up in the air then caught
them, circled around the front of the car and opened the driver side
door.  Cameron scanned the garage one more time and then got into the
driver’s seat.

“Where am I taking you?” asked
Cameron.

“We are staying at Ms. Lacroux’s
townhouse a few blocks away, on 82
^nd
, but that will not be
safe.  We can go to 39
^th
street, by the tunnel.  There is
a place for us there.  A safe house.”

Cameron started the Mercedes
then reached to put the car into gear.

“Over there,” the woman pointed
to the far wall.

The black Escalade was in the
garage and had turned onto the aisle the Mercedes was parked on.

“Duck down,” said Cameron. 
He pulled the P226 from his waist and set the handgun on his lap then smoothly
slid his cell phone out of his pocket and up to the side of his head, partly
shielding his face.

The Escalade approached slowly
and stopped in front of the Mercedes.  Cameron did not make direct eye
contact with the black tinted windows.  He talked into the phone,
punctuating his imaginary conversation with his hands.  The Escalade
continued to pass, speeding up to round the next aisle.

When the black SUV turned at the
end of the aisle Cameron put the Mercedes in gear and eased out into the other
direction.

“Stay down,” said Cameron.

* * * * *

New York

Cameron drove the black Mercedes
out of the hotel parking garage onto the street.  At the next block he
turned onto Broadway.  He peered into the rearview mirror.

“It’s clear.  There doesn’t
seem to be any one following us.”

The woman slid up into her seat
and turned to the back, “Nicole, it is safe.”

Cameron tilted the rearview to
look at the young woman.  Lying on her side, head on the armrest of the
door, the young woman vacuously gazed up at the buildings passing above the
car.

The young woman, dressed in a white
blouse and slacks, wore no jewelry or makeup.  The older woman was dressed
the same, wore little makeup on her eyes and lips and an emerald pendant low on
her neck.

“Nicole, that’s her name?” asked
Cameron.

“Je suis désolée.  Yes,
excuse me, I am sorry.  Her name is Nicole.  She is my ward.  My
name is Marie.”

“Nice to meet you Marie. 
My name is Cameron, Cameron Kincaid.  Would you like to tell me what
happened back there?  Why were those men trying to kill you and why there
are four dead men back at my restaurant?”

“Excuse me Mister Kincaid, you
did not seem fazed by the shooting.  You killed that man without
hesitation.  Very odd for a restaurateur, they teach you this in cooking
school?”

“That, well, I was not always a
chef.”

“You were a soldier?” asked
Nicole.

“Nicole, Mister Kincaid is
obviously a trained professional.”

“It’s Cameron, and yes,” Cameron
glanced up into the mirror, “I was with the Foreign Legion, but that was years
ago.”

“The French Foreign Legion?”
asked Nicole.  “You are French?”

“Yes, the French Foreign Legion
and no, I am not French.”

“I did not know there were
Americans in the Foreign Legion,” said Marie.

“Well, there are.  A few.”

“And you were one,” said Marie.

“Yeah, well that was some time
ago.  Now tell me, who were those people.”

“It is complicated, Mister
Kincaid.  Please take us to 39
^th
street and you will be
rewarded.  We are grateful.  Je vous remercie de tout cœur, I thank
you from the bottom of my heart.”

“I understand French, and it’s
alright.  I have to tell you though that I don’t take well to people
shooting up my restaurant.”

Marie turned her face to the
side and glanced up at the lights of the mall in the tall Time-Warner building
as they made their way around Columbus Circle.  Cameron drove along the
south side of the park.  Though the sun was setting, horse carriages still
lined the north side of the street.  In the mirror, he could see that
Nicole had sat up.  She marveled at the horses and then leered down 5
^th
avenue as they crossed.

Marie said nothing more.

Cameron turned onto 2
^nd
avenue and drove quickly downtown toward 39
^th
street.

“How do you know how to make all
of the traffic lights?” asked Marie.  “They turn green as we approach each
one.”

“It’s a trick a cabby showed
me.”  Cameron pointed at the digital speedometer.  “The lights are
timed so that if you stay at twenty-nine, you will catch them all.”

At 39
^th
street the
Mercedes turned the corner off 2
^nd
avenue.

“Is it the townhouse up on the
right?” asked Cameron.

“Oui.  How did you know?”

“Unless those fellas are with
you, the place is staked out.”

In front of the townhouse two
men stood in heavy coats, too heavy for the time of year.  Steps ahead of
the two men another black Escalade was parked and idling.

“They are not with us,” said
Marie.

“Duck down until we get around
the block.”

Cameron drove to the corner and
turned north onto 3
^rd
avenue.  “Ok, you can get up.  I
don’t suppose there is another place I can take you.”

“Not in New York.  Can I
please use your cell phone?”

Cameron gave Marie his cell
phone and she dialed a number.  Cameron tried to hear what she was
saying.  Marie had turned her head toward the window and was speaking
softly.  When Marie finished the call she sighed and handed the phone back
to Cameron.

“So?” asked Cameron.

“This city is no longer safe for
us.  Is there a place we can rent a car?”

“Do you have a drivers license?”

“No.”

“Then the answer is no. 
Where do you want to go?”

“If we can get to Boston, there
are others that can help us.”

“Boston, eh.”  Cameron
clipped his phone into the Mercedes console and said, “Phone.  Call
Claude.”

The sound system of the Mercedes
began to ring and then Claude’s accent filled the car.

“Cameron.”

“Claude, is everything under
control?”

“Oui,” Claude’s voice was
somber.  “Ms. Lacroux made a call and some men quickly came to her
aid.  They are cleaners Cameron.  What is going on?”

Cameron raised an eyebrow to
Marie, “I wish I knew.  The women are still with me.”

“Uh huh,” said Claude.

“I am going to be taking them to
Boston.  I should be back in the morning.”

Marie spoke up, “Mister Kincaid,
you do not have to do that.  You already have done so much.”

“I decide what I do and not
do.  Besides, it will give you a chance to fill me in.  I like
complicated stories.”

“I would listen to him Madame,”
Claude said over the speakers, “He is very stubborn, this one.”

Marie turned back to the
window.  “Very well.”

“Let the cleaners do their
job.  I will give you a call later,” said Cameron.

“I intend to.  Be safe my
friend.”

The sound system made a subtle
click and the phone dimmed.

The Mercedes had reached the FDR
and the city soon fell behind.

Marie and Nicole watched out the
windows.  They did not speak as Cameron drove.

Thirty minutes north of New York
Cameron’s thumb tapped a button on the steering wheel to turn on the
radio.  The sound of electric guitar filled the car.  Marie spun her
head.  She reached toward the console to find the button that would stop
the music.

“You must stop this it is foul,”
said Marie.

“Ok, ok,” said Cameron.  He
quickly tapped another button on the steering wheel and classical piano
replaced the electric guitar.  “Not a rock connoisseur, I get it.”

Marie crossed her arms and
turned back toward the window.  “It is inappropriate for Nicole to hear
those sounds, that music.”

“To each his own.”  Cameron
glanced up at the mirror.  Nicole continued to gaze off into the night,
her chin resting on her hand.

“So are you going to tell me why
we are going to Boston?” asked Cameron.

Marie did not move.

“And those men back at the
restaurant?”

“They were operatives of Rex
Mundi,” said Nicole.

“Nicole, he does not need to
know this,” said Marie.

“He has helped us.  To not
tell him would be to lie.”

Marie looked at Nicole and then
at Cameron, “I will tell you, but not now.”  She looked again at
Nicole.  Cameron understood and continued to silently drive the Mercedes
toward Boston.

* * *
* *

New York

Cameron adjusted the rearview
mirror to see the rear bench seat of the Mercedes.  Nicole was on her
side, her eyes closed.  “Ok, she’s asleep,” said Cameron.  “Now tell
me about this Rex Mundi.  Who is he and how do I get in touch with
him?”  Cameron shifted the mirror again, the lights from the car behind
them flashed across his face.  “He owes me for a window.”

Marie checked to see if Nicole
had indeed fallen asleep, she had.  “Don’t be foolish.  Rex Mundi is
not a person.”

“If they’re some kind of
terrorist group, I haven’t heard of them.  Is that what they are, some
terrorist group?”

“If only it was that
simple.  Rex Mundi is something greater.  It is a force with many
followers, knowing and unknowing.”

“Knowing and unknowing?”

“Some are true believers and
others pawns, believing they are just in their deeds.”

“True believers, what the world needs
more of.”  Cameron shook his head.  “And what do they want with you?”

“It is Nicole they are after.”

“Nicole?  Why could they
possibly want her?  She’s only a kid.”

“They believe she will lead them
to a treasure.”

“A treasure?”

“They believe she will lead them
to a treasure that has been hidden for 800 years.  Of course they are
mistaken.”

“Of course.  Whatever gave
them that idea?”

“Somehow they found out we are
on our way to Montreal.  Nicole is to meet with someone important to us, an
elderly woman.  They believe that is where they will find the treasure,”
said Marie.

“And Ms. Lacroux?” asked
Cameron.

“Ms. Lacroux was helping us in
New York.  In Boston there is another safe house and others there that
will help us get safely to Montreal.”

“I see.”

 “Do you?  Because I
do not wish to discuss it further.  I am tired too and need to
sleep.”  Marie did not wait for Cameron’s reply.  She placed her head
on the back of her seat, turned to the darkness outside her window, and closed
her eyes.

* * *
* *

Boston

The empty drivers seat of the
black Mercedes was already washed with morning light when Marie opened her
eyes.  The Mercedes was parked in front of a small market.  The curb
was still wet from the grocer’s hose and steps away tomatoes, apples, pears,
and bananas filled a wall of produce racks.  The shade of the market’s
cloth awning kept Marie cool.