The Crusader ("The Crusader" Prequel to "Kingdom Come") (41 page)

Sylvia
almost spilled the liquor in her cup. "Three thousand dollars! For
what?"

Rory
sighed, feeling her bravery wan. Kieran was gazing at her with concern, kissing
her shoulder when she appeared to falter.

"Please,
mother, don't ask any questions," she said with quiet urgency. "Just
wire me the money. I swear I'll never ask for anything else ever again."

"Never
ask for anything ever again?" Sylvia repeated incredulously. "My God,
Rory, you've already asked for quite a bit in your lifetime, countless favors
and demands that have constantly taxed my patience. And now you have the nerve
to demand money when you're in trouble with the law?"

Rory
began to shake, feeling belittled and humiliated. "So... what? You're
telling me that if I don't pay you back for everything I've ever asked for,
you're not going to help me now when I really need it the most?"

Sylvia
took a drink from her cup. "I didn't say that," she muttered. The cup
smacked the delicate saucer as she set it down heavily. "Look, little
girl; you're in a lot of trouble and I'm not going to help you out one bit. You
got yourself into this and you're just going to have to get yourself out. 
What's the money for, anyway? Bail?"

Rory was
verging on tears. Not unusual when it came to her mother's cold manner. She
remained silent a moment, pondering her mother's words and knowing the woman
meant what she said. And she knew without a doubt that she couldn't tell her
the truth.

"Yes,"
she said after a moment. "It's for bail. Can you please wire it to
me?"

On the
other end of the line, Sylvia poured herself another drink. "For Heaven's
sake, Rory," she grumbled into the phone, taking a healthy swig. "How
on earth do you get yourself into these messes?"

Rory
blinked back her tears of frustration. "I'll explain later. I know it
wouldn't do any good to tell you that my motives were true, because you
wouldn't believe me. Just... please send me the money, mother. I'll spend the
rest of my life making it up to you, I swear."

Sylvia
felt the liquor in her veins, the familiar warmth and comfort only serving to
fuel her disgust in her only child. "We're beyond that, I think," she
said quietly. "We went well beyond amends when you embarrassed me by abducting
an ancient corpse. Just tell me one thing; what in the hell were you
thinking?"

Rory
could feel Kieran's hand on her back, stroking her gently. "I guess I was
thinking that no matter what I do, no matter what I've ever done, I can never
be the daughter you've always wanted me to be," her voice was quaking.
"Good grades didn't do it. Gifts I made for you in Girl Scouts didn't do
it. I even offered my thanks to you in my high school Valedictorian speech, but
that didn't do it either.  The only time I ever saw an inkling of respect in your
eyes is when I went before the board of regents and proposed my dig. And even
then, it was short-lived. The only respect you ever had for me was in knowing
what I could do for your career if my archaeological site was successful."

On the
other end of the receiver, Sylvia took another long, healthy swallow. "You
want me to send you money and resort to insults to get it? That's just like
you, Rory. The tactics of an idiot."

Rory
closed her eyes, fighting off a harsh retort. Instead, she took a deep breath
and struggled for composure. "I'm sorry if I've offended you," she
spoke through clenched teeth. "Will you please send me the money now,
before we start saying things we'll both regret?"

"I've
never regretted anything I've said to you," Sylvia took another drink.
"You never heard me, any way."

"I
always tried to."

Sylvia
took a deep breath, glancing at the clock and realizing she had a speech to
deliver at a breakfast meeting in a couple of hours. Enough time to get the
smell of liquor off her breath and recover from her daughter's phone call. But
the more she pondered Rory's behavior, the more sickened she became.

"Damn
you," she finally hissed. "How could you do this to me, Rory?
How?"

Rory
sighed, a catch in her breath as she wrestled against the tears. "What do
you want me to say? That I'm sorry, that I'll swear before the entire
university board that you had nothing to do with my actions? What do you want
me to tell you?"

Sylvia's
temples were pounding. "Tell me why you did it!"

Rory
clenched her teeth, her chest exploding with emotional rage. "Why?"
she repeated. "All right, I'll tell you. It was because the corpse I dug
up was my find, my property. Uncle Uriah and Bud practically forced me to turn
it over to the proper English authorities when what I really wanted to do was
keep it. So I did. I kept it."

"Is
Dietrich in on this wild plot?"

"Not
at all. This is all my doing. My blame and yours."

Sylvia's
brow furrowed deeply. "
My
blame? How can you say that?"

Rory's
jaw ticked as she formed her careful reply. "Because I received more
satisfaction and warmth from this corpse than I ever got from you," her
voice was scarcely above a snarl. "Now wire me my damn money and I swear
you'll never hear from me again."

Sylvia
tried to drink from her cup and ended up dropping it on the desk. Infuriated,
she hurled the saucer across the room and smashed it against the wall.

"I've
waited thirty years to hear you say that," she shouted into the phone,
scrambling for a pen and a piece of paper, her hands shaking with too much
alcohol and a myriad of wild emotions. "Tell me where you are and I'll
send it to you. Consider it my last payment to your cause, Rory Osgrove. After
this, we're finished."

Rory was
beginning to crumble in spite of Kieran's reassuring embrace. "Send the
money to the Western Union office at Heathrow Airport," her whispered
voice was quaking. "I'll have someone pick it up."

Sylvia
scribbled the information, her sharp actions knocking her Tupperware decanter
onto the carpet. Groaning at yet another disaster, she clutched the paper in
her hand. "Three thousand dollars, Rory, and not another penny. You've
embarrassed me for the last time."

"I
hope so," the tears spilled down Rory's face. "Thank you for the
money."

On the
receiving end of the gratitude, Sylvia's emotional state was gaining momentum.
"You're welcome to it if it will sever all ties between us," she
rasped. Then, abruptly, she seemed to slide into an eerie calm as she collected
her spilled decanter. "By the way, Rory. Since this is the end of our
association, I have a confession to make. I lied to you."

More
tears spilled down Rory's face, faster than Kieran could wipe them away.
"What about?" she asked.

"When
you were born," Sylvia was weaving unsteadily, grasping her desk for
support. "Your father wasn't a naval pilot as I've told you all these
years. He was a drunken marine sergeant with four children and a pregnant wife.
He bought me a round of drinks in a bar in San Diego and we made love all
night, resulting in you. I don't know what was worse; sleeping with a married
man or having his baby. You don't know how many times I wished you had never
been born."

Rory
closed her eyes, struggling to keep rein on her sobs. Kieran simply held her
closer.  "His name was Clarence Lucas,” she whispered. “He found me two
years ago through a private inspector and we had dinner together. He was a nice
man. You really should have contemplated the fact that he might try to find me
someday, considering you told him you were pregnant."

Rory
tried to slam the phone into the cradle but missed. Sylvia heard the sobs on
the other end of the line as her daughter wept loudly. Rory didn't hear the
sobs from America as her mother wept loudly, too.

CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN

"Dr.
Dietrich, surely you realize you are in a good deal of trouble. If you'll
simply tell us where Dr. Osgrove is, I am certain we can ease any accessory
implications against you."

Bud
continued to sit in the chair by the French doors, his ice-blue eyes steady as
he faced off against Corbin and two inspectors from Scotland Yard.  The inspectors
were well-groomed men, college-educated and polite, but Bud wouldn't give them
the time of day. They seemed to spend the majority of their time staring at
each other, each man waiting for the other to blink. So far, no one had.

"As
I told you when you arrived, Dr. Osgrove has gone out for the morning,"
Bud said to the young inspector with receding blond hair. He had introduced
himself as Larry Wolfe. "Look, she left her suitcase here. You don't think
she would have taken off without her suitcase, do you?"

"It's
been over two hours," the other inspector, a handsome man by the name of
Turner, was chewing on a toothpick. "Where has she been for two
hours?"

Bud
cocked an eyebrow. "You aren't married, are you?"

Turner
crossed his arms. "I am. But I keep my wife under a tight rein, Dr.
Dietrich. She doesn't go anywhere for two hours without me."

Bud
snorted. "Then you must have one hell of a leash, Turner. As for Rory
Osgrove, consider the fact that the woman has spent over one year on the bleak
sands of Israel. She's like a kid in a candy store with all of these western
shops. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if she's gone all day and has spent the
better part of her savings by the time she returns."

Standing
in a casual position by the door, Corbin lit a cigarette. "Then why didn't
you go with her to prevent her from doing such a thing?" he tucked his
lighter back into his pocket. "After all, the two of you are exceptionally
close, aren't you? Protecting her from the law and all that."

Bud
couldn't very well lie in front of the inspectors any more than he was already
doing, especially when Corbin was stating already-establish facts. Staring at
Corbin with his ice-cold gaze, he simply shrugged. "She's a big girl,
Corbin. She doesn't need me to chaperone or protect her."

Corbin
met Bud's gaze, feeling the same strength from the man that he had when they'd
met on the tarmac at Heathrow. Like a cornered tiger. "But that's what
you've been doing, isn't it? Certainly she's told you where she's hidden the
body."

Bud
raised an eyebrow. "It's not hidden anywhere. If you hadn't knocked me out
yesterday when you broke into Rory's hotel room, maybe you would have had some
answers. But you created so much panic with your strong-arm tactics that we had
no choice but to get away from you," he leaned on one arm, his eyes
narrowing. "Now I'm curious; did you bring Scotland Yard in on your
loose-cannon plans thinking I'd talk to them when all you had succeeded in doing
was creating an even bigger mess?"

"I'm
curious also, Dr. Dietrich," Corbin countered with a puff of his
cigarette. "Why did Dr. Osgrove want an ancient corpse so badly that she
would risk her entire future to steal it?"

Bud
seemed to dull somewhat. "I never said she stole it. Even if she had, I
can only guess her motives."

"And
what would your guess be?"

Bud
sighed heavily, looking to the garden beyond the French doors and remember Rory
as she passed among the flowers two hours earlier. The expression on her face
was one he would never forget. "She felt that it belonged to her," he
muttered, feeling stupid even as he said it.

"What's
that?" Corbin moved away from the wall, his ear cocked. "Did you say
it belonged to her? What, exactly, belonged to her?"

Bud
looked at him. "I told you. She feels the corpse belongs to her since she
was the one who found it. I should have never agreed to turn it over to
you."

Corbin
cocked an eyebrow. "I see," he said. "Then she feels the corpse
belongs to her. Or, perhaps, could it be the contents of the corpse that is her
actual source of interest?"

Bud's
brow furrowed deeply. "Contents? What in the hell does that mean?"

Corbin
smiled thinly. Putting out his cigarette, he moved to light another. Certainly
with the police present, he had nothing to lose by continuing his provocative
line of thought. In fact, the presence of the law might provoke Dietrich into a
confession. "I have a theory, Dr. Dietrich, and please correct me if I'm
wrong. I'm willing to wager that the actual corpse of Sir Kieran Hage isn't
what interests Dr. Osgrove at all. But an ancient corpse could contain within
its hollowed body cavity a collection of priceless artifacts a cunning
archaeologist would be attempting to hide from the rightful owners."

Bud rose
from his chair, his face a mask of disbelief. "What in the hell are you
suggesting?"

Corbin
was wise enough to sense Bud's hostility, moving to where the inspectors were
standing to put distance between them. "It's only a theory, really. But it
wouldn't be difficult to smuggle artifacts in the capsule of an ancient corpse.
The fact that Dr. Osgrove was adamant that no autopsy be performed only
supports my theory. You two had planned to take the body to Oxford for further
tests. Plenty of time to remove your ill-gotten stash before turning Sir Kieran
over to his family."