Castro Directive (19 page)

"So where's Gore rank?"

"He doesn't," Thor had answered.

"You related to this Odin? Who is he? What's he want with that skull?"

"Just do your work and don't ask questions," he'd told Gore.

But a few minutes later, just before they had broken into Pierce's apartment, Gore had asked about the relationship between Simms and Pierce, and he'd wanted to know what Thor's real name was. It was more than idle curiosity. He was asking too many questions, and Thor had told Odin.

And, he'd also fucked up. Gore had hidden in Pierce's closet and had almost been caught. If he hadn't escaped, Thor would've had no choice but to kill Pierce. And that would've angered Odin, because he was saving Pierce for later.

Odin was right. Gore's days of crime were over. History. "I'll take care of it," he said calmly.

"Don't wait too long," Frey said.—Odin won't like it."

He looked up at the kapok's strong limbs. He had great respect and reverence for the tree and he quietly asked for its blessing. "I won't wait any longer than necessary," he said again to Frey; but his eyes were on the kapok.

T
he sweet aroma of frying plantains mixed with the tart smells of black beans and Cuban coffee. The chatter of Spanish seemed to resound around him. He'd never been here on a Sunday, but it was obvious the restaurant was a popular stop for Hispanics coming out of mass from the cathedral down the block.

The place was rapidly filling as families in Sunday dress promenaded along the three aisles in search of empty tables and booths. A sign in Spanish next to the sugar bowl said the booth was reserved for two or more. He tapped his fingers on the Formica tabletop and wished Tina would hurry up. If she didn't show soon, he'd have to move to the counter.

He stuck his head in his newspaper and read a few paragraphs of an article about the cost of police corruption. The gist of it was that the city spent more on covering the salaries of suspended officers under investigation than it spent on providing day care for children. The results of a new investigation of police corruption could push the cost up to more than was spent on sewers and highways in Miami. And that was just to keep the suspected dirty cops on the payroll at full rate while they stayed home; it didn't even include the millions spent on the investigations and trials.

He couldn't concentrate on the article, because he kept thinking of Carver. Just the possibility that one of the detectives investigating Loften's murder might have ordered it made him damn uneasy. All morning, as he'd put his apartment back together, he'd tried to blank out everything. He'd turned the radio on to a rock station and raised the volume until the sound was like a white wave, a cushion that insulated him from his own thoughts. But here he was, stuck on the same thought again.

"Hello, Nicky. I should have figured you would be hiding in the corner with your back to the wall."

He lowered the paper. Tina, as usual, was draped in gold chains. She wore a tight shirt, high heels, and layers of makeup that made her look as if she were auditioning for
Cats
. It was only since they'd separated that she'd taken to wearing heavy makeup and excessive jewelry, and he wondered what it meant. Maybe it was her way of compensating for some deep inner lack. Maybe she felt more attractive. Hell, who cared? He'd `stopped trying to figure her out a long time ago.

"You're late."

"I cannot just walk away from my desk like you do." She frowned at him.

Her black leather purse hung from one shoulder and she was clutching a couple of books under her arm. Between them was a large manila envelope. She slid into the booth and set the books down on the table. "What is with the sunglasses?"

He was hoping she wasn't going to notice, but Tina always noticed changes. He tipped his head down and removed the dark glasses.

"God, what happened to you now? You look worse every time I see you."

Pierce licked his swollen lip. His right cheek was bruised and his left eye was blackened. "I had a little trouble last night. I'll survive."

She stared at him, slowly shaking her head. "Are you getting in fights now?"

"I didn't start it."

"You should have just walked away."

"Tina, he was in my apartment. Okay?"

"You caught a burglar in the apartment? Did you call the police?"

"After the burglar got away."

"You should move. Did he get anything?"

"No."

"Good for you. You stopped him."

"Yeah. Good for me. So what've you got there?"

"Do not be in such a rush. Let us have a nice lunch and talk. I have hardly talked to you in weeks."

That wasn't exactly true, but he didn't argue. The waitress arrived and they ordered plates of chicken, black beans and rice, Cuban bread, and café con leche.

"And please, no sugar in my coffee," Pierce said. "They always do that to me here,"

he remarked when the waitress moved away.

"It's not Cuban coffee without the sugar."

"I don't need any more sugar in my diet, thank you."

"Maybe they just want to sweeten up the gringo." She smiled and gave his hand a quick squeeze.

"What do you want to talk about?" He reached for his glass of water.

"Do you notice anything different about me?"

He looked her over. He had no idea what she was talking about. "Let's see . . . A new blouse? A new bracelet? A new kind of makeup?"

She waved a hand at him. "I am not smoking. I quit."

"Again?" He'd lost count of the number of times Tina had given up cigarettes over the years he'd known her. "It is almost two weeks. Well, ten days tomorrow."

"Congratulations. The tobacco industry must be hurting."

"Oh, shut up. I never smoked more than a pack and a half a day."

He glanced at the books, but Tina had other things on her mind. "Let me see, Nicky. I do not think I told you yet that Consuelo is engaged. I tried to convince her to drop the guy six months ago. He is no good. Now they are getting married. I cannot believe her. And I just found out Tia Juana did a
trabajo
for her, and that is how she got him."

So Aunt Joan had cast a spell, Pierce thought. What else was new?

Consuelo was Tina's younger sister, and Pierce knew he was about to hear a monologue on the conditions of her entire family—the three sisters, two brothers, and parents. Their meals arrived, and he let her talk.

There were two sides to Tina. The warm, caring woman, the one who expressed concern about his bumps and bruises, the one he'd married. Then there was the catty side; the manipulator who tried to control through emotional subterfuge. That was the Tina he'd divorced.

As she talked, a nagging thought occurred to him. Finally he interrupted her. "Say, Tina, have you ever asked Tia Juana to do a
trabajo
on us? You know, like to get us back together?"

She stared at him, her mouth tight, her eyes narrow. "How dare you say that? You do not ask things like that. It is impolite; it is my business."

"Hey, if it involves me, it's my business, too. Right?"

"I thought you did not believe. You always make fun of Tia Juana."

"I make fun of her name, that's all." It was no use trying to explain to her again that he regarded Santeria as a belief system that seemed to work if you were a part of it. If you thought you could be manipulated by spells, you probably would be. Still, he was curious to know if good ol' Tia Juana had been invoking the spirits or
orishas
to bring them together again.

"When you make fun of her, you are offending the spirits."

"What, they can't take a joke." He'd joked from time to time that Tia Juana's should do her invocations with tequila instead of Florida water. But Tina never found that
 
funny. "Okay, I hereby apologize to all the
orishas: Chango, Eleggua
, the whole gang. How's that? And besides, you know I like Aunt Joan."

"You are terrible," she huffed.

Pierce was grateful when their lunches arrived and Tina moved on to the subject of life at the library. When they were almost finished, she asked about Gibby. "What is wrong with him, anyway? He sounded so cold on the phone."

"Tina, you used to say that you didn't like him because he talked too much."

"Well, he did. He is very self-centered. I mean we all are, but. . . You know what I mean."

"Yeah. You just don't like him. You never did. So what's in the books?"

She shook her head, gave him an exasperated look. "You are so damn critical of me. It is truly amazing I am still a whole person after all these years, Nicky. You must have a high opinion of yourself if you think I would ask Tia Juana to do a
trabajo
for more of the same."

"Sorry I brought it up." He didn't lift his gaze from the books. If he were as bad as she made him out to be, she wouldn't be eating lunch with him. But she was always quick to forgive and forget…until the next time.

"Okay, clean your mess up," she said, turning the two books around. "I do not want to get these dirty."

He moved his plate aside and wiped the table with a paper napkin. Tina slid the smaller of the two tomes over to him. "It is on Mayan mythology and was edited by Redington. I marked a section on the crystal skull myth."

Pierce opened the book to the page with the marker. On it was a photograph of a crystal skull. It looked identical to the one he'd seen in Loften's office. Next to the picture was a section on the myth.

"I bet that crystal skull was stolen when the museum director was killed," she said, leaning over the table.

"That's a good guess."

"Are you looking for it for Raymond?"

He put a finger to his lips as he concentrated on the paragraph below the photo of the skull. The myth of the twin skull was described as a parallel legend to that of the Plumed Serpent and the Smoking Mirror. One skull was a god of life and hope, a counterpart to the Plumed Serpent; the other was a god of death and darkness and correlated with the Smoking Mirror. It went on to explain that both myths invoked the duality principle of man, his inner struggle between the forces of "good" and "evil."

Redington noted that the reunion of the skulls, as described in the myth, symbolized the resolution of the internal war of the human heart. Once freed from this duality, mankind would transform, shedding its old ways and moving to a higher level of existence. He went on to explain that it was the Plumed Serpent, rather than the Smoking Mirror, who could achieve the true union of opposites.

"Hello, Nicky. I do not have all day. I have more to show you."

He looked up, pleased that she wasn't pressing him about the investigation. "What's the other one?"

She rubbed her hand lightly over the cover. "We just got this one in last week. It was not even shelved yet."

Pierce glanced at the cover as she passed it to him. The Encyclopedia of the Arcane. "What is it?"

"You wanted something on Noster Mundus, right? This is what I found."

She reached over and opened it to a page she'd marked. It was a color plate labeled: EMBLEMS OF SECRET SOCIETIES.

Pierce slipped his wire-framed glasses out of his shirt pocket and put them on. He glanced over the page of emblems; they looked like coats of arms of European families. "What am I supposed to be looking for?"

"Down at the bottom, on the right."

He stared at a drawing of a scroll. On either side of it was a skull. Below the emblem were the words NOSIER MUNDUS.

"That's it, right?" she asked. He nodded. "Think so."

"Can you read the tiny letters on the scroll?"

Pierce leaned close to the page. "I can't quite make them out."

"Neither could I. Use this." She reached into her purse and handed him a magnifying glass. "I thought detectives were supposed to carry these."

He guffawed. "Sure, Tina. And smoke pipes and wear funny hats."

He leaned closer, at first focusing on one of the skulls. Its eyes were diamond shapes, instead of simply hollow, just as in the crystal skull he'd seen. He turned his attention to the scroll. "J-U-N-G-E-R-E," he spelled out.

"Jungere. That is Latin for join, or bind together. I guess it means bind together our sorry world."

"Why do you say that?" He looked up from the page.

"There is one other reference to Noster Mundus in the book." She flipped to another page she'd marked. "It is just a short description."

Pierce leaned forward again and read the passage:

Of more recent origin, little is known about a group called Noster Mundus, which was founded by international financier Raymond Andrews. Their membership is by invitation; their numbers few and their meetings secret. A spokesman for the group, headquartered in Bayonne, France, defined their purpose this way: "We are a group of men and women who are working toward higher standards in public life, improved industrial relations, and a more sensible attitude between nations. Furthermore, we believe that a few individuals can make a significant change in society, but first they must change themselves.