Captive Moon (10 page)
Margo leaned closer to Tahira. “They’re not sold in America, so Matty has to beg friends to ship them. They usually make him pay out the nose for the trouble. But he is right. They’re terrific!”
Tahira bit down into the biscuit and Antoine watched her reaction. “Wow! These are good. Chocolate cookie with chocolate cream and covered in chocolate. Rabi would probably eat the whole package in one sitting. He was insane for chocolate.”
She stopped mid-bite when she realized what she’d said. Everybody else, save for Bruce and Larry, noticed as well, and the scents of sorrow and sympathy nearly overwhelmed Antoine’s nose. The two men on the couch looked at each other and shrugged.
Margo placed one hand on Tahira’s shoulder, but she smiled and shook her head. “No, it’s okay. That was just a slip because I’m stressed. I really believe my brother’s still alive. He’s out there somewhere and I’m going to find him and take him home.”
Antoine stood and walked over to the fireplace to add more logs. “Bruce, Larry—you should know what’s been happening. Tahira’s brother was captured by persons unknown and she was also abducted while trying to save him. I was able to spirit her away from the police when they raided a tiger poaching operation. But Simon is dead, and Rabi’s body was not with the other large cats. You haven’t finished your story, Tahira. Did you ever find your brother?”
Shock set into the face of both Larry and Bruce, but they didn’t ask any questions. Tahira nodded. “Well, like I said earlier, I followed the tracks and his scent until I found the truck. I saw him for a moment, caged with another tiger, a leopard, and two lions. All of the cats were fighting, and the men were using stun sticks on them to break them up. I was able to sneak closer because they were busy and he saw me, too. He warned me off when one of the men started to turn around, but they were getting ready to leave, so I decided to isim and move closer.”
Antoine held up his hand. “Isim? What is that?”
Tahira immediately blushed and stammered, “It’s …um… that is, it’s a way to move closer. It’s something Grammy taught me.”
Matty opened his mouth, but Antoine shook his head. He was going to let it drop for the moment. “Go on, please.”
She took another bite of the Tim Tarn and collected herself while she chewed and swallowed. “Anyway, I isi… I mean, I moved closer and let the air out of one of the front tires while they weren’t looking. I planned to go back to the village to get Granddad while they fixed it.”
“Obviously, something happened before you could?” Margo’s voice was hushed and nervous, like listening to the calm before the storm.
“When I moved back into the brush to wait for them to notice the tire, I was still in tiger form. I didn’t realize they had a third man in the truck with them, who had wandered off into the brush behind me. Before I could even turn around, he hit me with two darts in my hip and I was out for the count. But I know that Rabi was still alive, and if he wasn’t with your Simon, then he’s still alive. He’s strong. He could have escaped on his own.”
Antoine nodded. “Definitely possible. But you don’t remember anything of your time with your captives? No clue that might help us find them? I presume that they knew you were a shapeshifter. You couldn’t have remained in tiger form for a full month.”
Tahira clenched her hands into fists and stood with a frustrated sound. She slammed a fist on the mantel above the fireplace hard enough to make the antique clock on it wobble. She quickly reached for it and stopped it from falling with an embarrassed scent that didn’t quite overshadow her frustration.
“Not enough. I’ve been trying, but all I get are flashes—being fed rancid meat through a cage, shackles on my hands and feet; so yes, I had to have been human for some periods. But I can’t remember faces or even scents. It’s driving me nuts! I know that if I could just remember something, I could find Rabi. I won’t give up. I have to at least get out there and try.”
Antoine shrugged. “There is little any of us can do until the storm ends, I’m afraid. Hopefully tomorrow we will know more and can reach the outside world. For now, I have some contract details to work out for our next show, and you should probably get some more rest. Bruce, could you perhaps show Matty how to feed Babette? He needs to learn the proper method, and you and Larry should rest after your ordeal.”
Margo sighed, slapped her thighs with her hands lightly, and stood up. “And I need to pay some bills, if I can get online, or we won’t have any electricity or water by the time we get back to Reno.”
“Yes, and if you would, Margo, if we have a connection, please help Tahira reach her family in America. They must be terrified having her missing this long.”
Tahira’s eyes lit up and she smiled at him warmly. Perhaps he couldn’t allow her to leave, but neither could he just stand by and let her people worry.
If Charles saw that the family would come for her then somehow they must learn she’s here, after all.
In a few minutes, the room was emptied of people and Antoine sat down at the computer. Margo and Tahira would use the spare already hooked up in Margo’s room.
A few clicks of the mouse later and he was already shaking his head. Merde! Sixty-seven e-mails in a day. However did we survive before the internet? Contacts from his attorney, publicist, council business, plus a variety of spam. He was only interested in two at the moment. One was from his online chess partner, who was his source for the rare cognac, and the other showed no sender name.
He clicked to open the message from Leland Behr, “chssmstr” in his online persona.
“O-O-O +” read the first line of the message, and Antoine swore under his breath. He had hoped Le wouldn’t see that move. Castling to the queen’s side placed the white rook in position for an attack on Antoine’s king. He was in check. I’ll have to set up the board again and think about how to get out of that move.
He continued reading.
The bottle reached me, and I believe it truly is one from the first run! :D But he still will not provide information about where he found it, Antoine, and that concerns me. If he discovered an entire case, he could flood the market and the value would drop into the dustbin. Are you still in Germany and can you come to my home in Berlin? I want you to see it with your own eyes before I release the funds to him. Pressing my thumbs for you.—Le.
Antoine leaned back in the chair and tapped one finger on the mouse without clicking the button. Leland was correct, as usual. But he could own one of the original bottles of cognac produced by Hugo Asbach in a small basement distillery before partnering with Albert Sturm and creating a dynasty. Yes, even if a full case existed, it might still be worth the price of three thousand Euros.
He clicked on Reply.
As usual, you have the better of me on the board, old friend. My plans are in a bit of an uproar right now, so my response move to your check on my king must wait a day or two. As for the bottle—I will trust your judgment. I don’t want to risk the transaction for days of indecision. You’re the expert, or so say the auction houses.
Antoine sent the message and moved on to the next e-mail. As usual, Tony Giodone, using his new alias of Joe Giambrocco, leapt to the point without preliminaries.
I thought of another one. Fear smells like hot and sour soup to me.
I tried your suggestion on the case file that got destroyed. It didn’t work. Apparently hindsight doesn’t work on someone who just *read* the information in the past. Oh, and I can’t seem to turn it on and off well enough to interview the suspect. Based on what I’ve seen, I’m pretty sure that if he thinks we’re sniffing at the door again, he’ll bolt and I’ll have to take him out. Although, that *would* solve the case.
Nikoli asked me to remind you that you still owe him for the chair. Apparently, it rode the boat with him from the motherland and he’s been a PITA to deal with since it got clawed to toothpicks. Never mind that we saved humanity. Pfft! Let me know if you have any suggestions about the hindsight. Joe
Antoine furrowed his brow. Chinese soup has the same scent as fear? He tried to think back to the last time he’d made hot and sour soup. It had been a number of years, but it hadn’t reminded him of any particular emotion.
He took another sip of the fine Cordon Bleu from Charles’s bar, took a bite of chocolate biscuit, and considered the concept.
It would be an interesting experiment to find scents to match emotions. He’d never tried before. He was actually enjoying corresponding with Tony Giodone. He understood the wolf’s frustration with a gift that was just as often a curse. Antoine just didn’t think he could help him. Hindsight wasn’t anything like foresight. One could be controlled, the other couldn’t.
The only other seer with hindsight was his own sister. Antoine couldn’t understand why Charles didn’t simply have Tony train with Josette. Then again, Tony was a trained assassin, and his sister was prone to making people mad enough to kill. Pity that Charles is so blasted honorable. Somebody ought to put Josette down.
“Antoine?” Margo’s quiet voice from behind him interrupted his thoughts. “Tahira’s family sent a reply e-mail. How would you like me to respond? I don’t know if I’m allowed to give out Charles’s phone number or address.”
His voice was harsher than he’d planned, but thinking about his older sister did that. He didn’t turn around and opened his clenched fists to let blood flow back to his fingers.
“Absolutely not! This address and phone are private and unlisted. Tell them that if they wish to send someone, they can contact us when they arrive in town and we will meet them.”
Margo’s scent held surprise at his tone, but it passed quickly. She was accustomed to the quick temper of cats, both wild ones and the Sazis that surrounded her. Her tone was quiet and respectful, intended to soothe. “Of course. I’ll send a reply. But,” she said, putting a light hand on his shoulder and lowering her voice even further, “you might want to explain your reasoning to Tahira. She would like to speak to them by phone when the lines are back up. She’s excited and also worried, because nobody has heard from her brother yet. He’s still missing.”
Antoine leaned back in angry frustration, muttering things so foul that even in French, he could smell Margo’s embarrassment. She quickly removed her hand from his shoulder. He ran his fingers through his hair, gripping the strands in clutched fists and pulling them from the band. The rubber band was removed and replaced so quickly that he doubted Margo even noticed. But the hair was becoming annoying. Bet or no bet, he would be cutting it soon.
He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “Very well. Is she still in your room or in hers?”
“Actually—” Margo paused for a moment, causing Antoine to drop his head farther back so he could see her face. She winced and bit her lip. “She was quite upset, so Giselle suggested she wait in your room.”
His eyes widened and he leaned forward and turned the old chair on the pedestal. “Pardonne? Grandmère allowed her to go into my room? The room where my briefcase containing sensitive council documents is sitting in full view?”
“She did take out the briefcase, and apparently… all of the chairs. I think she was hoping that Tahira would be forced to sit on the bed. Specifically, the quilt.”
Antoine pursed his lips. It was actually quite a good idea, and one that hadn’t occurred to him. He smiled. “She is brilliant, as always. How long has Tahira been in the room?”
“Probably about ten minutes. Is that long enough?”
“Let’s give her another ten. I’ll respond to this e-mail, and you go up and tell her I’ll speak to her in a moment. If she’s not on the bed, suggest that she lie down, or even sit on the bed with her for a moment. In fact, take up a glass of wine for both of you. Between the quilt and wine, she should be quite calm when we speak.”
Margo let out a small laugh. “That will probably do it. But you might have to wake us both up.”
He turned back to the keyboard and clicked on Reply. “Even better. Oh, before you go in the room, stop in the television room and put on a classical music CD on the player—your choice. My room is auxiliary speaker D.”
“Wow! You want her completely comatose. If I fall asleep and forget to pay the bills, don’t whine that you have to pay reconnect fees.”
He turned his head and winked. “I have complete faith in your attention to your job, Margo. I doubt we’re anywhere close to late on the bills. But if we are, I promise not to utter a single comment.”
When she’d gathered the glasses and bottle and left the room, Antoine turned his attention back to his student’s message.
Thank you for adding to my repertoire of scent references. I’ll definitely try them out to see if I agree.
Tell Nikoli that while I’m sorry that I destroyed the chair, I question the value he’s placed on it, heirloom or not. Please tell him to contact me directly with any *evidence* he might have, such as a dated appraisal, and I will be pleased to pay the actual value.
Antoine smiled wickedly as he wrote the words. Tony would probably laugh. While the esteemed pack leader of Chicago might say his dusty old chair was worth eighteen thousand dollars, Antoine suspected he was just annoyed and wanted his strip of hide in cash form.
I’m sorry that your gift is not being cooperative. They’re often like that. I remember my sister once mentioning that she found it useful to find two other people who shared a significant event with her and
“read” them. Naturally, they must know about us and be willing to participate, and the event has to be something that will evoke strong emotions. But if you talk about the event enough to recall it in each of your minds, and then touch them, it’s possible that you might be able to see the same event from multiple points of view. Then, since you were there, you can decide what information from the others is valid and what to discard. Consider it your assignment for the week. Let me know what happens. My regards to your lovely wife.—A