Water to Burn (29 page)
Authors: Katharine Kerr
“An illusion.” Caleb grinned at me. “If they’d touched him, they would have found that out.”
Which meant to me that Belial, robed or not, was a projection similar to Fish Guy and the fake office worker I’d seen in Embarcadero Center. In fact, he could have actually been inside those very projections. That he’d been able to speak through the hooded man form indicated he had a very high level of talent.
A busboy appeared to take away my bowl and Caleb’s empty plate. When I leaned back out of his way, my napkin slipped onto the floor. The busboy trotted off without noticing. I bent down and retrieved it.
“I should have gotten that for you,” Caleb said. “Sorry.”
“Not a problem,” I said. “It’s the modern world and all.”
“Well, but is the modern world any different than the ancient one? We all think it is, thanks to the gadgets and science and garbage like that, but at the heart, with what matters, nothing’s really changed.”
“The universal forces still rule.”
“Exactly.” He saluted me with his wineglass. “And a man’s only what he has the courage to be. I use the word ‘man’ generally, of course. A woman’s what she has the guts to be, too.”
“Very true.”
The waitress and a waiter came gliding over, carrying assorted plates. Caleb had ordered a number of items, most of them fish dishes of some sort, and my elaborate salad arrived with a small china pitcher of dressing on yet another plate. In between bites of his enormous lunch, washed down with the bottle of wine, Caleb told me more about his search for Drake’s alleged treasure.
Like so many treasure hunters before him, he simply couldn’t believe that anyone would turn a fortune over to the Crown without holding some of it back in a private stash. I had to agree that Drake was probably just as venal as most Elizabethan gentlemen, but my central objection came from the large number of failed attempts to find the goods. If Drake had buried something on Bay Area shores, the horde of treasure hunters who’d gone after it surely would have found it by now.
Caleb, of course, thought otherwise. He’d been reading accounts of Drake’s voyage, studying old maps and modern maps both, and above all, as he told me in near whispers, he’d been invoking more spirits than one to help him in his search.
“I’ll bet none of the other hunters knew how to do that,” Caleb said. “I’ve got help from a higher level, as you know.”
I nodded and looked thoughtful.
“But I’ve also called up a crew of lesser beings. They’ve promised me a great treasure,” he went on. “A great treasure and the fame to go with it. I’ll be a man of distinction, then.” He paused to pour the last few drops of wine into his glass. “The difficulty, of course, is pinpointing the location. Spirits don’t see the world the way we do.”
“No,” I said, “they sure don’t.” I remembered some of the content of my medieval grimoires. “They’re tricky little buggers, too, you know. You’ve got to be wary about what they say, or they’ll mislead you every time.”
“Yeah, yeah. We’ve been looking for two months now and not finding a damn thing. That’s why I thought we should bring you into this. Fresh eyes and all that. We’re prepared to offer you a full third of the treasure when we find it.”
“Nothing before that, huh?”
“Unfortunately, my resources are limited right now. Maybe Jack can—”
“No.” I spoke firmly. “I don’t take money from my sister’s husband.”
“Oh. Right. The family connection.”
Caleb turned in his chair and signaled to the waitress, who’d been hovering some tables away. When she came over, he asked for the “afters” menu, which she supplied. For a man of limited resources, he was spending a bundle on this lunch. I suspected that one way or the other, Jack was paying for it.
“Would you like some dessert?” Caleb asked me.
“No, thanks,” I said. “I don’t eat a lot of sweets.”
“Which is one reason you’re so beautiful, so slim and graceful.” He smiled in a sloppy sort of way. “You’re really amazing, Nola.”
“Thanks.” It came out a lot drier than I wanted, and he winced.
“Not just flattery,” Caleb said. “I mean it, you’re amazing. You know, when I was looking for a partner in this venture, I checked out a lot of guys with boats. I finally chose Jack because I wanted to meet Kathleen’s sister. You’re even more beautiful than I thought you’d be.”
“Well, then, thank you.” I heard various inner alarms go off. “I will have some coffee, but just black for me.”
“All right. I was thinking of having an Irish coffee in your honor, but all that cream . . .”
“Don’t feel obliged for my sake.”
“Just plain whiskey, then. Let’s see what kinds they have.”
While he ordered, I glanced out the window, just casually. One vision trance with lunch was enough for me, especially with Caleb’s interesting slipup to ponder. He’d chosen Jack to get at me, had he? I suspected that Belial lay behind the decision, not my pretty face.
The waitress arrived with our coffees, his so heavily laced that I could smell the hot whiskey from across the table. I turned back to pick up my cup and nearly knocked it over.
Someone else had joined us. Not a visible person, no, not even an invisible physical presence—but an intangible someone or something, a guest of sorts at the table, had taken the empty chair next to Caleb, who knew it as well as I did. I noticed how he slid over slightly in order to give the guest plenty of elbow room, how he glanced sideways at the chair. I decided to call the game.
“Who’s your friend?” I said. “Brother Belial?”
Caleb turned as white as the seafoam. The presence rose up, flowed my way, and vanished. I might have heard a very high-pitched, very faint bubbling sound as it rushed by.
“Uh, well, yes,” Caleb said. “He wanted a look at you. Because of the venture, I mean, and all that.”
“I see.” I smiled, but I doubted if it was a nice smile. “Well, I hope he approves.”
“How could he not approve of someone like you?”
If I hadn’t wanted to pry more information out of Caleb, I would have thrown my coffee into his face. Flattery wasn’t going to cover his gaffe, summoning his spectral friend to size me up! As it was, I had a sip of the coffee and put the cup down on the saucer. “I’ll have to think about your offer, of course. My partner will probably have something to say about it.”
“Ah, yes, the boyfriend.” His voice dripped sarcasm. “Where is he today, anyway?”
“Probably working out at the gym.”
“He struck me as that type. What does he do for a living? I hope it’s something that lets him support you in style. A woman like you shouldn’t have to worry about money.”
“Oh, I love being in charge of my own finances.” Something twitched in my mind. I paused to look around and saw Ari striding down the ramp by the hostess station. “Er, no, scratch my remark about the gym. He’s right here.”
As Ari stalked across the dining room toward us, Caleb gulped down a hot mouthful of whiskey and coffee. He nearly choked, grabbed his water glass, and drank. Ari was scowling at us, his mouth set in a thin line, but his SPP told me that he was frightened more than angry. Something had come up, I figured, and I’d better play along. I could count on Caleb being too drunk to run an SPP of his own.
“Oh, God!” I said. “He’s really furious. Uh, thanks for the lunch! I’d better go.” I grabbed at my bag and pretended to nearly drop it, then picked up the sunglasses. “Sorry.”
Caleb got up, wobbling, just as Ari reached us.
“Business lunch, huh?” Ari said. “Wine. Whiskey. Some guy.”
“Look, darling,” I said, “I told you—”
Ari grabbed my nearer arm. “Let’s go,” he snapped. “You can make your excuses in the car.”
“Now, here!” Caleb managed to put some authority in his voice. “I’m Jack Donovan’s business partner. You’ve met me. You know that I’m making Nola a job offer.”
Ari looked at him, merely looked, but Caleb sat down. I was aware of Brother Belial again, floating somewhere above the middle of the dining room, and watching us. He wasn’t alone in that activity. The other lunchers were turning in their chairs and staring.
“Let’s go,” Ari snapped again. “I’m sick and tired of this! Stepping out on me every chance you get!”
A horrified squad of waitress, busboy, and maitre d’ was making its way over to us. I felt a stab of guilt for upsetting them for nothing.
“Ari, for crying out loud!” I said. “I am so sick of you being so jealous. All right, let’s go home! We can fight about it there and not ruin everyone’s lunch.”
The line of potential allies relaxed. Caleb summoned enough courage to say, “You have my cell phone number. Call me if you’re interested in the job.”
Rather than spoil the effect, I let Ari half-drag me out of the dining room and up the ramp to the lobby. As soon as we were outside, he came out with one of his half-smothered chortles.
“Nice bit of acting,” he said.
“Yours, too. What’s going on?”
“I’ll tell you in the car.”
In case Caleb had followed us out, Ari stayed in character by berating me in what was probably Farsi while we walked back to the car. I had no idea of what he was saying. I concentrated on looking oppressed. A scattering of people were walking downhill as we walked up. Most looked away and walked faster. Just as we reached the car, we passed a well-dressed older couple. The woman had covered her hair with a beautiful silk scarf in teal and deep purple, which is why I noticed them. The silver-haired gentleman, however, had noticed us as well.
He reached out and caught Ari by the arm. I yelped aloud. Startling Ari that way could prove fatal. Ari spun around just as the man began talking to him in whatever language Ari had been using. Much to my shock, Ari ducked his head and stared at the sidewalk, a subservient gesture that surprised me further, mostly because it seemed so wellpracticed. Ari shook his arm free, but he muttered something that sounded apologetic. The fellow nodded in satisfaction, said a few stern words, and the couple continued on downhill.
I unlocked the car. As we got in, I made sure to take the driver’s seat.
“What was all that about?” I said.
Ari buckled on his seat belt while he told me. “I was being reminded that the Qu’ran teaches us to respect our wives, not yell at them in public.”
“It does? Maybe I should read it sometime.”
“You should. The actual text is quite different from the Taliban’s interpretation of it. You Americans seem to think that all followers of Islam are fanatics. That’s not true.”
“Well, yeah, I’m sure it’s not. Besides, we have our share of gun-toting fanatics, too.”
“So do we. I have to admit, however, that there are a great many more of theirs than ours.” He smiled briefly. “Which is why we’re glad to have some of yours on our side.”
“I take it you’ve read the Qu’ran. Probably in Arabic.”
“Of course. It always pays to study your opposition in any political process, particularly in a war.” Ari sounded abruptly exhausted. “And that’s what we’ve got on our hands, these days, a war, whether the rest of the world chooses to see it or not.”
“We? You mean Israel, right?”
“Of course. I always mean Israel.”
Behind us on the street a car horn sounded in staccato bursts. I glanced at the rearview mirror and saw an enormous SUV blocking the lane while it waited for the parking spot.
“Let’s get going,” I said, “before Caleb finishes lapping up his booze and staggers out.”
I turned on the engine and backed out under cover of the SUV, then drove on downhill. As we cruised along the Great Highway, I noticed that the ocean had reached high tide.
“So how was lunch?” Ari said.
“Good food,” I said, “but a nutcase for company.”
“Caleb, you mean?”
“He believes that spirits are helping him search for Drake’s treasure.”
“A total nutter, then.”
“Yeah, for sure. Where were you, anyway?”
“Upstairs in the cheaper restaurant. It was too sodding cold to sit outside, so I had a sandwich while I watched the monitor.”
“Why the jealous boyfriend act?”
“Because of that white thing that showed up on the monitor. I don’t know what it was, and I wasn’t sure if you knew it was there. So I decided to get you out of that room.”
“You saw it? Brother Belial?”
“Is that what it was?”
“Yeah, but I couldn’t see him. I just sensed him.”
Once we got back to the flat, I changed into my flannel-lined jeans and the rust-colored sweater. Although the flat had a decent gas heater, the wind had picked up. It whistled around the building as it drove the fog inland. Before I put my shoulder bag away, I returned the sunglasses to Ari.
“Did you record that video?” I asked.
“I did, and I’m glad now. The sound quality’s not very good on these things, though. Here, I’ll show you.”
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