BY THE TIME MOLLY REACHED the yacht’s deck, Draghici had retreated to the salon. Paddington glared at the man’s back as he followed him down.
“We can talk out here, Mr. Draghici.”
“I prefer to chat here, Inspector. And since I’m agreeing to this meeting out of the goodness of my heart, we’ll do it my way, if you please. It’s far too hot and uncomfortable to stand around in the sun. And if you’re going to address me, I prefer to be addressed as Captain Draghici.”
Of course you do. It took real effort for Molly to keep her face neutral.
With obvious reluctance, Paddington followed the man into the salon.
“Can I get you a drink, Inspector?”
“I’m on the job here.”
“Sounds serious.”
“Maybe it is.”
Draghici finished pouring himself a drink at the small, well-appointed wet bar that fronted the galley area. Light glinted from the rings adorning his fingers. He glanced up at Molly. “Would you like a drink, dear lady?”
The way he said the words sounded offensive. “No, thank you,” Molly replied politely.
“What about you, Mr. Graham?”
“There’s nothing you could offer me, mate.” Michael stood, bunched like a hard knot, arms folded, his stance broad. His words sounded calm but chiseled.
Krebs turned down the offer of a drink, as well.
“Well, then, it appears I’ll be drinking alone. It’s a good thing I have no problem doing that.” Draghici took his glass and sat at the U-shaped sofa that filled the heart of the salon.
“One of your men approached Mrs. Graham a short time ago.” Paddington stood with his hands in his pockets. “I thought maybe we could talk about that.”
Draghici lifted a mocking eyebrow. “A chance encounter on the street? That’s enough to bring you all the way out here?” He shook his head in disbelief. “Things must surely be slow in this little town, Inspector Paddington, if the police department feels compelled to follow up on that.”
“I don’t put up with people under my protection being threatened.”
Swiveling his attention to Molly, Draghici looked surprised, but the effort was pure ersatz. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Graham. Did one of my people in some way cause you alarm?”
Michael fielded the question and took a step forward, setting two of Draghici’s goons into motion. “Your man told Molly you wanted to talk to me, mate. Here I am. So talk.”
In that moment, Molly could see the young street tough Michael had been in his earlier years. He’d scuffled and fought in the pubs and neighborhoods back in London, and he’d hung with some questionable people when he was younger. But his love of video games had focused him and kept him from getting lost. Even now, his pursuits of soccer and rugby, hiking and biking attended to his love of being physical.
“You are a direct one.” Draghici sipped his drink.
“Trust me, I can be more direct.”
Paddington shifted slightly, taking one step to place himself between Michael and Draghici at an oblique angle. Evidently the other gypsies had read a threat in Michael’s words, as well, because they moved in closer.
Draghici held a ringed hand up and his men pulled back. Then the man laughed. “All right. I wanted to speak with you about your ongoing treasure hunt here in Blackpool.”
“I’m not involved in a treasure hunt, mate.”
“That’s not how I hear it. People tell me you’ve stepped up your pursuit.”
“What people?” Paddington’s voice filled the salon.
Draghici shrugged. “Just acquaintances that I’ve met since I’ve been here in Blackpool.” He sipped his drink again. “They say that you’ve been looking for Charles Crowe’s treasure.”
“I don’t believe such a treasure exists.”
“Then why are you snooping around?”
“I like looking at unusual things. Do you know anything about me?”
“I know that you’re a rich man.”
“Any idea how I got that way?”
“I heard something about games or some such.”
“Video games,” Michael said. “Computer games. Things with involved histories and physical research. That’s what I’m doing. Research.”
“Seems like an awful lot of poking around just to find out information for a video game.”
“I’m a craftsman. That’s why I’m successful.” Michael stared at Draghici. “In the future, you might want to get in touch with me before you go chasing after my wife.”
“I wasn’t chasing after your wife. My friend merely encountered her and thought he’d pass a message on to you. You see, I think you will want to talk to me.”
Michael didn’t say anything.
“My father, and his father before him, have searched for the gold Charles Crowe stole from my ancestors. My predecessors were determined to find that gold, to get it back, always hearing one story or another. And they weren’t successful at what they did. They got just enough of a taste of the truth to keep them interested. Let me show you something.”
Draghici got up and walked to one of the bulkhead walls, reached up and pulled down a map. The map showed the town and harbor of Blackpool, but all through it and across it, dotted lines ran willy-nilly. Upon closer inspection, Molly saw that the lines were numbered and in different colors.
“My father and grandfather have explored Blackpool before, Mr. Graham. Many times over the years.” Draghici shook his head. “I’ve even been through many of the tunnels and passageways in and around town. Never saw anything promising enough to get my hopes up. Until those gold coins were found and I watched you become so enthusiastic in your own endeavors. That’s what convinced me that we had a chance of reclaiming the riches that belong to my family.
“Then I found out about that slave ship sunk in the harbor. The Seaclipse.” Draghici pointed through one of the windows where Algernon and his archaeology students toiled to discover all they could about the sunken ship. “Just like that, the old certainty returned to me and I was that small boy sitting at my grandfather’s knee, listening to all those stories about the magnificent treasure Charles Crowe had stolen away. I couldn’t sit idly and wait.”
Molly couldn’t imagine Draghici waiting idly for anything. The man was too abrasive, too pushy.
“I admired how you uncovered the real murderer of the drug dealer Willie Myners and solved the business with the stolen renovation money. I thought to myself, now there’s a man who knows what’s what. I decided I wanted to ask you here and compare notes. Maybe we can find the treasure when no one before us has ever been able to.”
Michael pursed his lips. “I’m not interested in com paring notes with you. Not now, not ever. Is that clear?”
The smile on Draghici’s face was hard and fixed. He didn’t like being shown up in front of his men. “Crystal.”
Paddington straightened. “Now that we’ve got that little matter attended to, maybe you should consider dropping anchor somewhere else.”
“You can’t kick me out of town, Inspector.”
“No, you’re right about that, but I’ll not have you troubling Mrs. or Mr. Graham again, or I’ll lock you up for harassment. That’s a promise.”
Draghici waved a dismissive hand. “I believe we’ve exhausted this conversation.”
“Indeed.” Paddington turned and walked toward Michael.
Reluctantly, Michael gave ground in front of Paddington. Molly reached out and took her husband’s hand, pulling him into motion.
“But I would leave you with one thought.” Draghici looked smug, but Michael detected a glint of malevolent menace in the gypsy leader’s eyes. “People have been known to go missing from this town. You might want to be careful in the future, since you’re not welcoming my protection.”
Michael started to go back for Draghici, but Paddington put a big hand in the center of his chest and restrained him. At the same instant, two of the gypsies closed ranks protectively around Draghici.
“Leave it, Michael.” Paddington set off again, and this time Michael went with him.
“DID YOU BUY HIS STORY?” Michael steered the boat away from Thames Drifter, then opened up the throttle. He was glad to be putting distance between him and Draghici. Anger still throbbed within him and made him shake slightly. He definitely felt threatened by the gypsy leader’s “cautionary” words. Molly stood at his side with her arm wrapped around his.
Paddington shrugged. “This bloody treasure has all the kooks coming out of the woodwork. Just the thought of it appears enough to drive normal people daft.” The inspector glanced at Michael. “And you. I wouldn’t be so high-and-mighty about others. You seem to be quite actively searching for this treasure, as well.”
“I’m more interested in finding out why Leland Darrow and his people set up Rohan at Crowe’s Nest. Like I said, those people aren’t here hunting treasure. You won’t convince me of that.”
“I’m not happy with that answer, either, Mr. Graham, but I don’t know what else is afoot.”
“Neither do I. Yet.”
Paddington sighed. “You know, you might let this be a lesson for you.”
“Draghici?”
“Yes.”
Michael shook his head. “I’m not going to let the likes of him scare me.” Molly squeezed his arm and he knew she was cautioning him.
“I didn’t say you had to be scared, Mr. Graham, but perhaps a little extra vigilance would be in order. Draghici believes he’s never been closer to that gold he claims Charles Crowe stole from his family. He’s not going to continue to be careful about what he does.”
Michael focused on steering the boat and didn’t reply, but he seethed inside. He didn’t like seeing Molly afraid, and Stefan Draghici had certainly given her pause.
LATER THAT EVENING, after dinner and while Molly was busy on the phone talking to people at the marina, Michael went up to his office to think. There, surrounded by comic books, action figures, posters of older video games, including some he’d designed, he did his best thinking.
Whole worlds unfolded in his mind when he was on a roll, and they were peopled with amazing characters, wonderful monsters, eerie landscapes and ancient settings fraught with danger and exotic puzzles.
He envied his story people their lives. They didn’t really have to worry about their loved ones, and their trials and tribulations were over after a few days of intense playing.
Video games weren’t like real life. In a game, he could pause the play, power the system down and walk away whenever he wanted to.
He tried to focus on the electronic copy he’d made of Nanny Myrie’s journal. He’d also begun a topographical map of Blackpool and the surrounding area, plucking recognizable landmarks from the narrative and inputting them into the map he’d uploaded onto his computer. Then he mixed in all the points he’d found on the map he’d made from his model of the town. He felt certain he had a lot of spots correctly fixed, but he still didn’t have a complete chronological or geographical picture of the slave trade Charles Crowe had conducted.
He was frustrated because he didn’t know what to do next. Rohan was still in the hospital. Molly was still buried in the work at the marina. And he had no idea what Leland Darrow was doing in Blackpool. Stefan Draghici was another wild card.
In an attempt to alleviate stress and work through his mood, Michael opened up his email. New sketches from Keith had arrived. He opened the attachments and found the redesigns of the underwater city were absolutely amazing. That made Michael happy. He’d known Keith would come through. There was never any doubt about it.
Hey, Michael.
Hope you like the new art. If you do, I can get to work on finishing the designs straightaway so the modelers can scan them in and have their wicked way with them. I like the new version. All it took was us getting on the same page.
All best,
Keith
Michael fired back a quick response.
Hey, Keith.
They’re bloody brill, mate. I knew you could do it. Sorry for not making this clear the first time through.
Yours,
Michael
As he hit the send button on his mail client, Michael thought about what Keith had said about getting on the same page. An idea blossomed in his mind.
He went downstairs and found Nanny and Iris engaged in a game of gin.
“Nanny, would it be possible for me to go over the journal you brought with you?”
Nanny and Iris both glanced at him suspiciously. “What do you plan on doing with that journal, Michael?”
“Drop a nuclear bomb into Blackpool’s past and see what floats to the top.”