Treasured Dreams (26 page)

He ran his tongue around his mouth, feeling the fuzz beneath. He skipped to the gap in his teeth and his thoughts slammed to that moment when Archer had knocked that tooth flying. Yanking a couple of Archer's teeth out when they next met would be grand revenge.

When Nox moved Filippo here by gunpoint, Filippo's only complaint was the lack of bedding. Strange, really, given there were so many other things he could have complained about. Nox relented and allowed Filippo to drag a cot and a mattress from the dormitory to the medical room. Nox didn't help. Filippo wanted it; he had to do it himself.

Later that afternoon, Nox peeked in through the small pane of glass in the door, and upon seeing Filippo sitting on the cot, he entered with his gun held snugly in his hand.

Filippo looked up with insolent eyes. Most people looked at him with fear or disdain. Filippo had a flippancy about him that suggested he was confident that come the end of this situation, he would walk away a rich, happy man. Nox almost chuckled at the notion. Filippo was a long way from reality. Nox was willing to indulge him, though—for now.

He handed Filippo a phone. ‘Make the call.' Nox had heeded Filippo's suggestion of using several phones and to randomly dial either Archer's or Rosalina's numbers. By alternating between using Filippo's phone and the three new phones he'd purchased with Nurse Isabella's money, Archer shouldn't be able to trace the calls. The idea was brilliant; the cost to buy the cheap phones, however, had decimated Nox's dwindling cash.

He listened in silence to Filippo's side of the conversation. It was brief, as usual, another device to lessen the chances of the call being traced.

‘What did she say?' Nox asked Filippo the moment he ended the call.

‘They're in Egypt.'

Egypt already! That was excellent news. But then he frowned. Whilst he knew a third of the Calimala treasured was destined for Egypt, he had absolutely no idea how Rosalina could possibly know that. Filippo had more; he was sure of it.

‘What else?' he demanded.

‘They've figured out how to decipher Wade's notes, and they're heading to the Solomon Islands.'

Now he was even more confused. Maybe they didn't know about the Egyptian angle after all. ‘Who's Wade?'

‘I'll need some food for that answer,' Filippo said, deadpan.

Nox turned on his heel, left the room and locked it. He went straight to the kitchen, put together some leftovers for Filippo, and then returned to his prisoner. He checked through the glass peephole and, confident that Filippo was where he'd left him, he re-entered the room.

He placed a bottle of water and a bowl of spaghetti bolognaise on the blue tiled counter top, and from his coat pocket, he tugged a dinner roll that he'd pinched from the marina a few days ago and placed it upon the pasta. ‘Who's Wade?' He repeated his earlier question before he stepped back.

Filippo slipped off the stained mattress and wandered to the bowl. ‘Wade is Archer's father. He was a treasure hunter.'

That may have explained why they had seemingly extensive knowledge in a short amount of time. ‘So is he helping them, too?'

‘He's dead. Died when Archer was a kid.'

Nox cocked his head at Filippo. ‘So he left behind notes on where to find the treasure?'

‘Yes, but it's as cryptic as hell. According to Rosa, the notebooks are full of both legitimate and fake clues. The hard part is working out which is which.'

Nox needed to get his hands on that information, and Filippo was his key to getting it.

Filippo scooped mouthfuls of food with a fork and made annoying slurping noises as he sucked the spaghetti into his mouth. ‘What's your story, Nox?' Food rolled around Filippo's mouth as he asked the question.

‘Story?'

‘Yes. What makes a priest become a killer?'

Nox rolled the question around his head, trying to piece together exactly which murder Filippo was referring to. ‘You shouldn't believe everything you see in the news.'

Filippo sucked up a string of spaghetti, then wiped his chin with the back of his hand. ‘So you're not a murderer.'

‘No. I'm not a priest.' Nox's laughter echoed about the tile-lined room.

Filippo's bushy eyebrows thumped to his hairline. ‘So you did murder your father.'

Ahh, mystery solved. ‘Like I said—don't believe everything you hear.'

Filippo placed his bowl at his side and wiped his fingers on his pants. ‘They said you poisoned your father in the church.'

‘No. My father abandoned me on the steps of this very building when I was five years old. But …' Nox shrugged, ‘if I ever find him, I'll have no hesitation in killing him.'

Filippo sniffed. ‘I don't know my father either.'

Nox raised one eyebrow at that.

‘My mother screwed around.' He shrugged. ‘I was the result. She never told anyone who she was fucking, and when she died giving birth to me, that secret went with her to the grave.' He actually looked pained by the statement.

The revelation, though, was an interesting twist to Rosalina that he hadn't expected. She'd always seemed so wholesome. A woman who had everything and was loved by everyone.

‘The entire Calucci family blamed me for killing my mother.' The hatred in Filippo's eyes bubbled like sulphuric acid. ‘So …' he chuckled, ‘you and I are both killers.'

‘So it seems.'

Filippo's eyes widened. ‘Did you kill that guy in the church, or not?'

The idea of sharing his adventures was suddenly appealing. Decades of skilled revenge would go to the grave with him if he didn't share it with someone or document it somewhere. He smiled and showed off his yellowed teeth, a rare and ironic move given the room he was in.

‘Father Benedici was the man who was charged with caring for me after I was removed from the orphanage.' When Nox had confronted Father Benedici about the treasure, his first stance had been to pretend that the treasure was a complete fallacy. When Nox told him things that a teenage boy simply shouldn't know about a seven-hundred-year-old missing treasure, Benedici tried to beat the basis behind the information out of Nox. When Nox had his first solid lead as to where the treasure went, Nox gave Benedici one last chance to share his knowledge with him. His failure to do so resulted in his ultimate demise.

‘He was a dominating sadistic bastard who didn't agree with my plans. So, yes, I killed him.' Nox had never openly discussed such a thing before. It felt strangely satisfying to admit aloud the reason why he'd killed the man who supposedly did everything for him.

‘Have you killed anyone else?' Filippo was just a little too eager for the answer. Given their situation, it wasn't the reaction he would have predicted.

Nox simply nodded his head.

‘Tell me.'

Nox debated over how much to tell him. Had he already said too much? Then again, it didn't matter what he said—Filippo was never going to see outside these four walls again. But where to start?

‘You're a fascinating man, Nox.'

It was Nox's turn to be surprised. No one ever called him that. ‘What makes you say that?'

‘You grew up in a church. And now you're a kidnapper, a killer, and a man with information about one of the greatest missing treasures.'

Filippo certainly made him sound interesting.

‘I always thought Rosalina was exaggerating when she spoke about you.'

‘Really? What did she say?'

‘She said you were an evil bastard who …' Filippo paused.

‘What?'

‘She said you had a …' Filippo cleared his throat, ‘… horrible smell about you.'

He was surprised Filippo hadn't noticed his condition. ‘It's true.' Nox nodded. ‘I have Trimethylaminuria.'

‘What?'

Nox couldn't believe he was about to tell a complete stranger about the disease he'd been hiding from his whole life. ‘Trimethylaminuria. It's also called Fish Odour Syndrome. It's a rare metabolic disorder that makes me smell like rotten fish sometimes.'

‘Huh. I hadn't noticed it.'

Nox blinked at the man; he had thought everyone noticed it.

‘The papers said you grew up in the church. How does someone go from that upbringing to the person you are now?'

‘It's a long, long story.'

‘And we have lots of time. I'm intrigued.' Filippo settled on his mattress and leant his back against the tiles. ‘Indulge me.'

It occurred to him that Filippo was stroking his ego. No one wanted to talk to Nox. Ever. He'd seen shows about serial killers who'd revelled in their fame, detailing their brutal crimes to the documentary-makers like they were describing how to bake a cake. He'd always thought of them as show ponies. But now, faced with the same scenario, he appreciated the sense of power it gave. To be able to talk about every one of those killings and give the justification behind them could be cathartic, like applying balm to his soul. Yet even with that notion, he was surprised he was considering it. Until now, he'd gone to great pains to keep every aspect of his life a secret.

‘Come on. It's not like we don't have time.'

That was true. It could be weeks before Archer returned. Although that still might not be enough time to go through everything.

Filippo crossed his legs and leant forward. ‘Just start at the beginning.'

Nox's stomach fluttered at the prospect of what he was about to do. He eyeballed Filippo. ‘We will exchange stories. For every piece of information you give me, I'll tell you something about my life.'

‘Done.' Filippo smiled a stupid lopsided grin.

Chapter Thirty

Rosalina woke with a churning in her stomach that had her striding to the bathroom and sucking in shaky breaths to force down the nausea. As cold sweat blanketed her body, she splashed water on her face. A glance in the mirror reflected a puffiness below her eyes that wasn't there yesterday.

Loud shouting snapped her out of the queasiness. She grabbed her robe, bolted out of the Hamilton suite and dashed towards the kitchen, but nobody was there. With her heart in her throat, she raced up the stairs to the sun deck. The blinding morning sun dazzled her eyes, and she fought the black spots to see what was going on.

‘Hey baby.' Archer voice was full of confusion. ‘You might want to put something else on; there are kids around.'

As Rosalina blinked away sleep, she sighed with relief that everything was okay. ‘What's all the yelling?'

‘The kids below. Take a look.' He pointed overboard. ‘We're a captive audience.'

She clutched her silk robe around her waist, and as she peered overboard she had to duck as a projectile suddenly launched at her. The package landed behind her, and she bent over to collect it.

‘Take a look,' Archer encouraged.

Rosalina frowned as she slipped her finger beneath the sticky tape to open the clear plastic sleeve. Out tumbled a long black dress with gold embroidery and colourful beading.

‘It's a jalabiyas,' Archer said. ‘A traditional Egyptian dress.'

She giggled. ‘It's lovely. So they just throw it up.' With the dress in her hand, she looked over the railing and another cloth package was launched at her. She stepped back and several more came.

‘I have your size, pretty lady,' a voice called from below, and Rosalina giggled some more.

The packages kept coming.

‘Quick, make a choice before we're buried under them.' Archer laughed as he ducked away from a package.

She held up dress after dress, all brightly coloured in blues, pinks, greens and reds, and all intricately decorated in embroidery and beading. ‘I can't; there are so many and I like them all.'

Three more packages came in quick succession and Rosalina had to be fast to dodge them.

‘Hurry,' Archer said. ‘Pick a couple for you and Ginger and toss the rest back down.'

In the fastest shopping spree she'd ever done, Rosalina chose six dresses, each of a different colour. Then she leant over the railing and with careful aim at the little boat below, threw back the ones she didn't want.

‘How much are they?' she asked Archer. ‘Do I go down to the dive deck to pay him?'

‘No. If you go down there you'll buy everything in his boat. You put the money back in the plastic bag and toss it to him from here. How many did you chose?'

‘Six. Three each.'

‘So ask him how much for six.'

‘Hello.' Rosalina leant over the railing. ‘How much for six dresses?'

‘For you, pretty lady, we have a special price.'

‘Of course he does,' Archer said sarcastically.

‘Special price, one thousand five hundred Egyptian pounds.' His broken English was easy to understand.

‘Pfft, I don't think so,' Archer said from behind her.

She turned to Archer. ‘How much is that in Euro?'

‘About one hundred and eighty euro.'

‘That's thirty euro each.'

‘Yeah, like I said, too much. Offer him five hundred Egyptian pounds and one of your best smiles.'

Archer waved away her frown. ‘Go on.'

Rosalina turned back to her waterside seller. He was now standing on the blue-painted platform at the front of his boat. ‘I have more dresses.'

‘Oh. No thank you. Will you accept five hundred Egyptian pounds for the six dresses?'

‘Ahh, too cheap, pretty lady. I have six children to feed.'

‘Ha, he's good. Ask him for a better price. Quick.' Archer urged from behind her.

‘Can you give me a better price please?' This time Rosalina gave an exaggerated smile.

‘Pretty lady, you break my heart. I give you extra discount. One thousand pounds.'

‘What's going on?' Ginger arrived on the sundeck.

Rosalina showed her and when Ginger's eyes lit up, Archer threw his arms in the air. ‘I'm outta here. You ladies can do the bartering.'