Summer 2007 (9 page)

“You need a priest.”

“I
am
a priest,” I said desperately. I held up my
well-worn copy of the good book.

“Really?”

“Well, a minister,” I said. “The Right Reverend Doctor
Lucifer Jones. Same position, different league.”

“If you’re a minister, what were you doing with
Conchita?” he asked me.

“Showing her what sins to avoid if she wants to move to
the head of the line at the Pearly Gates.”

“I think I may convert,” he said with a great big grin.
“Will you bless me, Father?”

He still had the wrong religion, but I didn’t have no
time to argue.

“Domino nabisco, my son,” I said. “Now help me find some
duds before them brothers of hers bust the building down.”

Suddenly a trumpet blared and everyone began rushing to
the door.

“I am sorry,” he said apologetically. “My group is
beginning our march through the city now. We must continue our discussion
later.” As he reached the door he turned and yelled back, “If I see Conchita,
I’ll give her your regards.”

Then he was gone, and I was all alone in the building.
At least I thought I was when I heard a very cultured, very familiar voice say,
“I see Fate has brought us together once again, Doctor Jones.”

I kept my eyes on the door, because I didn’t want to
turn around and find out for sure that the voice belonged to who I thunk it
belonged to.

“Have you no word of greeting for an old friend?” it
said.

“Show me an old friend and I’ll let you know,” I said.

“But it’s me, Erich von Horst,” he said, walking into my
line of vision, looking as trim and elegant as ever, kind of like a headwaiter
without a hair out of place.

“So it is,” I said, walking around him and heading to
the door. “And it’s sure been nice seeing you again, but I got urgent business
elsewhere.”

“I overheard what you were saying,” he replied. “If you
go outside, you’ll run into the girl’s brothers.”

“The worst they can do is bust my arms and legs and
maybe break my back and gouge out my eyeballs,” I said, still walking away from
him. “That makes it an easy choice.”

He grabbed my arm. “I believe the heat has gotten to
you,” he said. “You really should start wearing a hat. You know what the
vertical rays of the sun do to Englishmen.”

“I’m from Moline, Illinois.”

“Same thing,” he said, kind of pulling me over to a
chair and sitting me down. “You look well, Doctor Jones. How has life been
treating you?”

“Just fine until about two minutes ago,” I muttered.

He threw back his head and laughed. “Good old Doctor
Jones!” he said. “Always Johnny on the spot with a witty remark.”

“I hope you didn’t come here all the way from England
just to bamboozle me again,” I said. “Because if you did, I got to tell you on
the front end that I ain’t go no money.”

“When did I ever try to relieve you of your money, my
good friend?” he asked innocently.

“Tanganyika,” I said. “Morocco. Mozambique. Greece.
England.”

“You may have emerged the poorer party, but you were not
the innocent one.”

“We ain’t neither of us innocent of much,” I said
bitterly, “but every time we hook up I wind up un-innocent and broke and you
wind up un-innocent and rich.”

“Then perhaps you’ll let me make it up to you,” said von
Horst.

“I don’t want to hear this,” I said.

“There are millions involved.”

I got up. “I’m going out into the street and challenge
Conchita’s brothers. I’ll be safer.”

“The Pebbles of God,” he said softly.

I sat back down.

He grinned. “I thought that would interest you.”

“Only because I’m a religious man, and I won’t have you
robbing my Silent Partner.”

“Oh?”

“Well, not alone, anyway.”

“What if I told you that I know who stole them?”

“If I’d known you were in the country, I could have
given 500-to-1 odds that I knew too.”

“So…are we partners?” said von Horst.

“You already got ‘em,” I said suspiciously. “What do you
need a partner for?”

“The police are watching my every move,” he explained.
“If I try to leave the city, they’ll stop me and search me.”

“No,” I said.

“No, what?” he asked.

“No, I ain’t gonna try to smuggle them out of the city
for you,” I said. “I’m a foreigner too. They’ll search me, find the diamonds,
and I’ll rot in some Brazilian jail while you go free as a bird.”

He shook his head. “Oh, ye of little faith.”

“I got faith, and to spare,” I shot back. “What I ain’t
got is a death wish.”

“Everything has been arranged,” he said. “You will be
able to leave the city right under the nose of the police.”

“And they’ll ignore me, huh?” I said sarcastically.

“No, my dear friend,” he replied. “They’ll
applaud
you.”

“What in tarnation are you talking about?” I demanded.

“It is
Carnival!
” he said. “And you are in a
costume warehouse!”

“The most valuable diamonds in the country have been
stolen, and you think that anyone wearing a costume can dance right out of
town?” I said. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

He shook his head. “No, they’ll search you top to bottom,”
he said. “But they’ll never find the Pebbles of God.”

“If they’re that well hid,” I said, “why don’t you take
‘em out yourself? What do you need
me
for?”

“While you’re taking them to our appointed meeting
place, I’m going to be convincing the police that I still have them,” he
explained. “I have been hiding since I stole them, but once you’re on your way,
I plan to show myself and lead them a merry chase in the opposite direction,
which will take most of their attention away from you, and result in at best a
cursory examination. Possibly the police will catch me, possibly they
won’t–but even if they do, they will eventually have to let me go since I
won’t have the diamonds.” He looked sharply at me. “Your fee will be one-third
of the take.”

“Seems to me that the guy what’s carrying the diamonds
is taking most of the risks,” I said, “and ought to be making most of the
money.”

“All right,” he said. “Fifty-fifty.”

“Sixty-thirty,” I said.

He frowned. “That’s only ninety.”

“God gets ten percent. As His spokesman on Earth, I’ll
hold it in escrow for Him.”

He considered it for a moment, then shook his head.
“Fifty-fifty or it’s no deal.”

“What about God?” I demanded.

“You can split your half with Him any way you want,” he
said. “Now, are you in or out?”

“First show me how you think I’m gonna waltz right by
the police and then I’ll tell you.”

“Here,” he said, pulling a glittery toga and a pair of
gold sandals out of a pocket. “Put these on.”

He began walking off.

“Where are you going?” I said.

“Just get dressed,” he answered, opening a side door I
didn’t even know was there. “I’ll be right back.”

I doffed my duds and clambered into the toga, which
truth to tell felt a little drafty down at the south end of it, and then
strapped on the sandals. I’d just finished when I heard a snort that sure
didn’t sound like von Horst. I looked up, and there he was, leading in a
smart-looking chestnut horse what was attached to a gold chariot.

I took a deep breath and wrinkled my nose.

“What’s the matter?” he said.

“Your horse smells of fish,” I told him.

He smiled. “That’s not the horse. It’s part of your
costume.” He reached into the chariot and pulled out a trident with a pair of
fish on it. “You’re Neptune, King of the Ocean.”

“Couldn’t I lose the fish and be King of the Desert?” I
said.

He shook his head. “Look at all the fish designs on your
chariot. You’ve got to be Neptune. We don’t want to draw any unnecessary
attention to you.”

“I’m a gringo riding a chariot, wearing a skirt, and
carrying a bunch of dead fish,” I said. “Don’t you that
that
will draw
attention?”

“Not in the middle of Carnival,” he said, pulling a
phony beard out of his pocket. “Put this on.”

“No one’s ever seen the King of the Ocean,” I said. “How
do you know he wears a beard?”

“Maybe he doesn’t,” agreed von Horst. “I suppose it all
depends on whether you want every policeman in town to know exactly what you
look like.”

Which is how I wound up wearing a beard.

“You seem awfully well-prepared for this,” I said
suspiciously. “Why do I get the feeling that you were waiting for me to come
along?”

“Because you have a suspicious nature,” he replied
easily. “I was waiting for
someone
to come along that I could trust. It
was just serendipity that it was you.”

“Okay,” I said. “I look like an idiot and smell like a
fish. What has all this got to do with God’s Testicles?”

“The Pebbles of God,” he corrected me. He reached into
the chariot one more time and withdraw a glittering gold crown encrusted with
diamonds. “Here they are,” he said triumphantly. “You’ll wear them right out of
town under the noses of the police. There must be five thousand crowns in the
parade, all covered with cut glass. There will be no reason for anyone to
suspect that this is what the entire city is searching for.”

I took the crown from him and studied it. “What do you
think they’re worth?” I said.

He shrugged. “Three million, four million, who can say?”

“The fence you’re going to sell them to can say.”

“Why guess?” he said. “You’ll be standing right beside
me when we make the deal.”

“Where are we gonna meet?” I asked.

“There’s a tavern named Carlita’s two miles south of the
city limit,” he said. “Meet me there two hours after sunset.”

“Carlita’s,” I said. “Got it.”

“And don’t forget to feed and water the horse,” added
von Horst. “If he dies on you, they’ll probably arrest you for animal abuse,
and if you’re in jail for a few days, even these unimaginative minions of the
law will figure out that your crown is more than it appears to be.”

“Right. Feed and water the horse, follow the parade
south out of town, and meet you at Carlita’s after dark.”

“Two hours after dark,” he said. “If you are late I will
assume you have betrayed my trust, and I will report you to the police and
claim ten percent of the Pebbles as my finder’s fee. We will both be a lot
wealthier if you simply do as we have planned.”

“I am shocked that you could think such un-Christian
thoughts about me, Brother von Horst,” I said. “Just see to it that you get to
Carlita’s on schedule. If you’re more than a few minutes late, I’m going to
assume that the police have picked you up and I’m on my own.”

“Fair enough,” he agreed.

I climbed into the chariot and grabbed the reins. “Has
this nag got a name?” I asked.

“Dobbin,” said von Horst.

“How about that?” I said. “We used to have a horse
called Dobbin back on the farm in Moline, Illinois.”

“A family pet?”

“Until my father got drunk and mistook him for a moose,
or maybe a tax collector.”

I clucked to Dobbin, and he trotted out of the building,
and a minute later we were in the thick of things, surrounded by dancers and
singers and drummers and a lot of ladies what was dressed for extremely warm
weather. I stayed with them for almost a mile, until I was sure van Horst
wasn’t following me, and then I turned Dobbin into a side street, pulled him to
a stop, and clambered out of the chariot.

If there was one thing I knew, it was that Erich von
Horst didn’t hand an honest bone in his body. This was the guy who salted the
Elephant’s Graveyard in Tanganyika, stole the Crown jewels in London, and
otherwise flim-flammed his way around the world, usually taking unfair
advantage of innocent trusting souls like myself. But I was onto him this time.
I knew if he told me the diamonds were in the crown, that was the one place they
weren’t. They looked like cut class because they were cut glass.

Still, he wouldn’t have gone to all this trouble if he
had the diamonds on his person, so they had to be here somewhere. I knelt down
and pulled the hubcaps off each wheel, but there wasn’t nothing to be found. I
went over the chariot with a fine-toothed comb, but I couldn’t find no
diamonds. Then I thunk of checking Dobbin. I went over every inch of his bridle
and harness, checked his teeth for shiny fillings, even pried off his shoes in
case von Horst had hid the diamonds there, but I kept coming up empty.

I’d wasted an hour and still hadn’t found the diamonds.
The sun was getting a little higher in the sky, the day was warming up, and the
smell of the fish was making me sick. I figured as long as Neptune had a
trident he didn’t need no fish on it, and I was about to pull ‘em off and toss
‘em to a couple of stray cats that had mosied over to admire ‘em close up.