“Dwarves dancing around the guns” was the clue that had most stumped me when I’d read them all earlier in the morning, but now knowing that the key to deciphering the mapmaker’s riddles was to look at the map, it became clear quite easily that our next stop was Erf 81, a volunteer farm where they grew vegetables and fostered animals, including the owner’s dwarf goats.
The internet was a magical resource, I thought as we climbed the hill to the car waiting for us.
As we drove, I tried to scan for the white car that had been following us, but I didn’t see anything. I did slip my baseball cap back on and tuck all my hair under it again. It probably wasn’t much of a disguise anymore, but I hoped it would do something.
Boone must have been of the same mind because he pulled his long dark hair into a low ponytail at the base of his neck, a small thing that made him harder to identify, at least from the back. I wasn’t sure anyone could miss his striking cheekbones and slightly crooked mouth from the front.
The ride to the farm was brief, but I did have enough time to fill Boone in on its earlier use by the British as a munitions storage facility. “That explains the guns,” he said as he paid our driver and stepped out. I didn’t know where he was carrying the cash for all these fares and tips, but I was glad he had it. It was still quite early in the day, just before 8, but I was beginning to feel the time pressure as a heavier and heavier weight.
Again, the lion was easy to find on the makeshift sign by the path into the farm, and while I really wanted to go in and see some baby animals, maybe spend a little time volunteering in the garden, now was not the time to return to my rural roots.
As soon as we found our marker, Boone called for another car. When I wondered aloud why he hadn’t just asked the previous one to wait, he pointed out that we didn’t really need anyone knowing that we were moving from location to location. “I’m even changing companies so that we don’t risk getting the same driver.”
“Smart,” I said. “Where to next?”
“Pull up your map if you don’t mind,” he said. “I want to see something.”
I did as he asked, zooming out to show him all of Cape Town.
“Take us to Lion’s Head,” he said.
I zoomed in and then moved the image southwest to get the hilltop into view.
“Now, the mansions.”
I shifted east to them on the map and then automatically moved over to the German School and then up to Erf 81. “Let me map them all.” I dropped pins in each location and then zoomed out.
“What’s our next stop?” I said as I looked at what seemed to be a distinct pattern emerging.
“This one wasn’t hard since it mentions Mecca—the Iziko Bo-Kaap Museum. It’s the local Islamic museum,” Boone said.
I quickly moved the map north, following the pattern I was seeing, and sure enough, there was the Museum. I added another pin. “And the next clue?”
“Follow the salted scent to the country escape in the city.”
I blinked my eyes. “That’s the most obscure one so far.”
Boone nodded. “But maybe the map helps.”
I scanned further north, and there, just by the water, was a hotel called “City Lodge.” “A country escape could be a lodge, I suppose,” I said.
“The starting places for many safaris here are called lodges,” Boone said.
“So that’s definitely it then.” I dropped another pin. “Next?”
“Grain and luxury meet.” Boone said and looked at me pointedly.
“The Silo. We’re being led right back to The Silo.” A wash of cold passed from my head to my feet. “That can’t be a coincidence.”
Boone shook his head. “These clues were put into the books before we came on to the scene. I think the coincidence was that we stayed there. But the question is, what’s at The Silo that everyone else might want?”
A blue van pulled up beside us, and when Boone had confirmed the license plate number, we got in and headed back to our hotel. We’d basically been on a wild goose chase around the city, and I was feeling disheartened that we hadn’t gotten anywhere.
I dropped my head against the seat and said, “Well, that was a waste of time.”
Boone shook his head. “I don’t think so.” He stared off through the windshield for a long moment. “The clues led us somewhere, and it only seems like a waste because we started there already. But if you weren’t a guest at The Silo?”
A flicker of understanding began to dance in my head. “Then it would feel like a big deal to be led there.” I took a deep breath. “But why take people on what turned out to be a fairly simple scavenger hunt through Cape Town? Why not just point them to The Silo all along if that’s where you wanted them to be?”
“That’s the question I think we need to answer,” Boone said as the van pulled up to the hotel. “I think we may have actually come to the real mystery, Poe.”
I let out a long sigh and followed him out of the car and into the lobby. All I wanted was to go upstairs and take a long nap, but this already-long day held a lot more for me. Hopefully, at the end it would be worth it because we’d have Beattie and Adaire back, and maybe, just maybe we’d have some answers, too.
“Let’s get some breakfast,” Boone said as he steered me toward the elevator to go the second-floor restaurant. “We need sustenance.”
I didn’t disagree. I also didn’t disagree with what I suspected was Boone’s ulterior motive—a chance to scout out the hotel from a new angle.
I went all in on breakfast—waffles, sausage, more coffee. It was delicious, and I ate slowly as I looked around, trying to see what I wasn’t seeing.
Boone and I talked about books we loved while we ate. It was a casual conversation, one that let us appear engaged with each other, which we were on some level, while also not diverting the focus of our attention from the space around us.
I told him that I absolutely loved Possession by A. S. Byatt, and he took out his phone to make a note to read it. Whether he would or not, I didn’t know, but I appreciated that he treasured that knowledge about me even if only to record it in a digital note.
He said he’d come to love The Old Man and the Sea in fifth grade, and I made a mental note to re-read and see if I could see what an 11-year-old would find in those pages. It was the kind of conversation I would have loved deeply if we weren’t trying to save our friends, disrupt a black-market smuggling ring, and solve a murder. As it was, I figured I’d think about books and Boone later.
After we finished our meal, Boone said he was going back up to the room to make some calls, and he wondered if I might be willing to meet up with Frank in the lobby. “See what he bought his nieces?” Boone said.
I nodded. “Of course, and maybe he and I will hang out down there a bit, give you some privacy for your calls.” Boone had his own room, but I needed a reason to publicly say why I planned to spend the day in a public space when I had a comfy bed, a TV, and a beautiful view a few floors up. “Plus, I’ve kind of enjoyed people watching with you today. Maybe I can do some more of that.”
“Perfect,” Boone said. “Early dinner in the suite at four with everyone?”
“Sounds great. Can’t wait to see what Aaran found on his own shopping expedition.” If anyone knew the full breadth of what was going on with us, we would have seemed quite flighty and self-absorbed to be thinking of shopping trips and trinkets when our friends were being held hostage. But I was banking, as I expected Boone was too, on the fact that if our mapmaker was watching, they didn’t know the full extent of our situation. At least I hoped not.
After giving Boone a kiss on the cheek in the hallway by the elevator, I walked down the stairs into the lobby and took a seat between the front desk and the door. The people in this hotel were fascinating. Some looked haggard and weary, probably business folk on working trips, but there were also families with young children. In those groups, the parents looked weary, but the children were exuberant. One little girl with a vast halo of curls around her face was decked out in a swim tube and goggles with a sand bucket in one hand. She was ready for the beach.
But despite my fascination with the hotel guests, it was the staff who interested me most. After all, the mapmaker couldn’t have predicted when someone would solve the riddles and end up here. It almost had to be a staff member who wrote the cipher. But given the size of the hotel and the number of businesses inside the same building, including the entire staff of the museum, I was a bit overwhelmed.
Still, I tried to appear casual as I watched bellhops and maids move around the lobby. I smiled at the desk clerks when they saw me watching them, and I gave Gregory a friendly wave, now that I had rolled up my shirt sleeves, unbuttoned most of the buttons over my tank top underneath, and taken off my baseball cap. No need to be incognito anymore.
After about a half hour, Frank arrived, and I gushed and praised his choice of conch shell necklaces and snow globes for his nieces, who I learned were four and seven. “They’re going to love them,” I said. “Great work, Uncle Frank.”
He smiled and leaned back, propping his feet on the coffee table in front of us. “Mind if we hang here a bit? I’m kind of enjoying the space,” he said.
“Oh yeah, I’m always up for people watching,” I said as casually as I could. “Let’s play a game. What’s their story?” I pointed to a young couple sitting in an alcove off the main lobby. He was on his phone. She was staring out the front window.
“Newlyweds,” Frank said. “At the end of their honeymoon. The excitement has run out, and they’re both tired and ready to get back to their lives.”
I looked at the couple again. “I’m going with an affair. She thought this would be the chance to win him over completely, but he has spent most of the time texting with his kids.”
“You two could be writers,” a man said from behind us.
I turned, startled, to see Gregory, the concierge, standing behind the couch with two mugs in his hand. “Coffee for your analysis session?” he said as he came around and set the mugs on the table. “May I?” he asked as he pointed to the chair next to me.
“Of course.” I smiled and picked up my mug, smelling the aroma within. “It’s Gregory, right?” I knew his name quite well, but given our clandestine situation, I figured it best that I pretend not to be too interested in any hotel staff member.
“That’s right, Ms. Baxter. I trust your stay here is going well.” He smiled at me and looked at the coffee mug still in my hand.
“It is,” I said as I smelled the coffee again and then rested the mug in my lap to let it cool. “The service has been impeccable, and I don’t know what kind of mattresses you have but they’re like sleeping on a cloud.”
“A supportive, firm cloud,” Frank added in with a laugh. “The boss also appreciates your personal help with arranging tours and such.” He smiled warmly at the concierge.
Gregory smiled and stood. “That’s wonderful news,” he said. “I hope you will return again for your next visit to Cape Town.” With that, he turned and walked behind the desk and through a door into what I assumed was the office.
Frank put his coffee on the table. “Don’t drink that,” he said as he glanced at my mug.
“Wasn’t planning on it. That was creepy, right?” I looked at the potted tree next to me and thought about dumping my coffee there. But I’d seen enough shows where the poison kills the plant, and I didn’t want to hurt the plant.
“Very,” Frank said as he picked up both of our coffees and headed toward the front door. “Be right back.”
A moment later, Frank came back with empty mugs. “Trash day,” he said as he sat back down and raised a hand calmly to a busboy. “Could we get two more coffees, please?” Frank handed the young man a bill and the empty cups, and any hesitation the staff member had evaporated.
“Yes, sir. Be right back with those.” He hurried off upstairs.
“Good plan. Can’t do with Gregory finding out that we didn’t drink our coffees,” I said. “So, what are you thinking, Frank?” I said as I folded my legs up under me and got comfortable again.
“Tell me what sights you saw today,” he said with a sharp jerk of his eyes toward the maid who was cleaning near us.
“Oh, Lion’s Head was lovely, but I really enjoyed seeing some of the neighborhoods as we walked. The German International School looked beautiful, and my favorite was Erf 81. I loved the goats and chickens, and it was so fun to see the gardens. If I lived here, I’d definitely volunteer there, get my hands in the dirt a bit.”
Frank smiled as the busboy returned and handed us our fresh coffees. “Thank you,” he said.
I took a long sip of the coffee, choosing to commit to the mission and force down the shiver that I got drinking it black. Then, I set the mug back on the coffee table and looked at Frank after I glanced over my shoulder to see that the maid was still dusting the same end table just next to us.
“I hope Adaire and Beattie’s flu is better today. I hate that they’re missing so much of our trip,” I said.
Frank sighed. “Yeah, I think they’ll be on the mend by this afternoon.” He stretched and then pointed to two men sitting in a corner of the lobby reading newspapers. “What’s their story?”
For the next couple of hours, Frank and I drank coffee—my next two cups with cream and sugar thankfully—and played our game of assessing the stories of the people in the room. While we had no way of measuring our success, I thought we were pretty good, particularly when Frank called that the two women who I thought were mother and daughter were actually friends here on a single women’s weekend away. We were able to confirm his hypothesis when one of the women said, “Let’s find us some men” as they headed out the door.
Gregory came in and out of the back room and helped guests throughout the morning, and while he smiled at us and eyed the mugs that now sat empty on the coffee table, he didn’t talk to us again. If he wondered why we hadn’t fallen asleep or died in the lobby, he didn’t let on. And of course, it was also possible that we had read him wrong and the coffee he gave us was just fine.
But I didn’t think so. There was just something about the way he kept looking at us when he came through the lobby that told me he was keeping an eye on us. We were doing the same with him.
Around one, my stomach started to announce its need for food, and Frank and I wandered up to the restaurant to get lunch. It was a risk, we knew, to not stay at our post, but it was also a risk to sit there all day without a break, especially when my stomach rumbles were probably audible from space.
We didn’t linger at lunch, though, and after I had eaten a delicious club sandwich and Frank had inhaled a burger, we went back to the lobby, this time with a deck of cards Frank had asked our waiter to procure. We needed something to do, both as a cover and to keep us from boredom. Cards seemed perfect.
Frank had clearly spent too much time with his nieces because he suggested we play Go Fish. I upped the caliber just a bit with the suggestion of Rummy, and we grabbed a pen and notepad from the front desk and set in for a tournament.
I was a sort of master at this game. It was a favorite in my house growing up, and my roommates and I had often played in college and grad school. The game required a level of concentration that still allowed room for talking or for watching the shifty concierge at your luxury hotel.
Frank told me more about his family as we played, and I filled him in on how I’d decided to leave teaching and work for Uncle Fitz. Anytime a staff person came near, we’d talk about how sick Adaire and Beattie had been and that we hoped we could go back to the room tonight.
Meanwhile, Frank turned out to be a rummy master, and by 3:30, we were neck and neck. My strategy was to always pick up the discards if I saw two cards I could use, even if it meant grabbing ten others, too. Frank played by the strategy of sparsity and only picked up small stacks of cards. Clearly both options worked because when we finally decided we would play one more hand, the score was still almost tied, with only five points between us.
Frank dealt, and I studied the seven cards in my hand. A pair of sixes, a potential straight if I could get a nine of clubs, and a whole bunch of disconnected cards. The first card up on the table was an ace of diamonds, but with Frank’s rules I couldn’t pick it up unless I was immediately going to play it. So I chose from the pile: jack of hearts. I laid it down immediately.
“Oh, my lucky card,” a voice said from over our table. I looked up to find Frye staring down at me. My hands and blood froze.
“What are you doing here?” I spat.
“Just visiting,” he said as he dragged a chair over from another sitting area and placed himself between Frank and me at the table. “Don’t let me stop you. I’m kind of invested in how this goes.”
I glanced up at Frank, who gave me a quick nod and then picked up the ace and the two of hearts I had laid down. He immediately laid down three aces, and I forced myself to moan as I would have if a sadistic kidnapper weren’t watching.
When Frank discarded a seven of spades, I sighed and picked up from the pile again just as I felt Frank’s foot tap against mine and push it toward the door behind me. I played my hand by discarding the jack I’d just kept and then twisted my torso as if I were stretching so I could see what was behind me.
There, by the door, were two of Frye’s henchmen. They were talking to each other and leaning on the glass beside the main door, looking casual, except even from here I could see the guns bulging out at their sides.
“Just finish me,” I said to Frank, and he nodded, picked up the jack, laid down a flush, and discarded. He had won.
With a glance at Frye, I tallied our points and declared Frank the winner, then sat back. I didn’t know if I had ever been as angry as I was at that moment, but now wasn’t the time for me to vent my rage. “What do you need?” I said calmly as I looked at our guest.
“Oh, I’m just coming back to be sure your boss is still acquiring the items we need.” He grinned at me as he crossed one leg over the other. “Your friends have been lovely guests, but you know what they say about house guests after three days.”
I rolled my eyes at the old cliché. “They had better be well, in fact they’d better be even better than they were when we left.” The threat was idle, but I meant it.
“What kind of host do you think I am? They’ve had everything they needed.” He leaned forward and looked at me then. “But I have needs, too.”
I forced down a shiver at his choice of words and his proximity to my face. “Boone is working on it.”
“That I am,” Boone said over my shoulder as he slipped onto the couch opposite Frye. “Here, sir, as you can see, are your books. He set them on top of Frank’s aces on the table. “They are yours as soon as our friends are released.”
I tried not to stare at the books on the table and wonder if they were the actual set or the copy Aaran had discovered. If they weren’t the originals, they were very good forgeries, but I couldn’t be sure without looking at the pages.
Frye smiled. “I knew you were a man of your word, Mr. Stallone. Very good.” He glanced toward the door and sent one of his men out onto the street. “Your friends will be here shortly.” He reached toward the books. “May I?”
Boone put his hand down on the top of the books. “Not just yet. You can understand that I need to see Beattie and Adaire before I make this trade, I’m sure.”
“Of course,” Frye said as he sat back in his seat again. “We’ll just wait then. Perhaps, Ms. Baxter, you’d like to deal another hand.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m sort of rummied out at the moment,” I said. I tried to look casual and glance around the room, but when my eyes lit on the concierge desk and the look of shock and, I think, fury on Gregory’s face, a sweat broke out on my back.
Boone must have followed my glance because he quickly straightened up and pulled the books next to him on the table. “Mr. Frye, it appears someone has taken an interest in your presence.” Boone looked past him toward Gregory.
Frye turned, looked at the concierge, and then turned back. “The concierge? Why?”
“You tell me,” Boone said.
“I assure you, Mr. Stallone, I have no idea who that man is or why he would have any interest in me.” He cleared his throat. “Perhaps his interest is with you.”
I was watching this interchange as my brain spun all the pieces to try and put them together. I was getting close to understanding when someone shouted from behind me, and I turned just in time to see Allan Victora’s bodyguard knock Frye’s bodyguard unconscious.
Chaos erupted in the lobby, but I caught a glimpse of Ivan and Aaran steering guests out the back doors or up the stairs. We were in the middle of a crime battle, apparently, but at least no one innocent would get hurt.
I looked at Boone, and he said, “Stay put,” as he turned to Frank. “You’re on Poe.” Then, he dashed off toward the elevator with the books.
Gregory took off after him, but Ivan stopped the concierge before he could follow him up the stairs. Aaran intercepted Frye and held a gun to his chest to keep him from going out the front door. Then, Allan Victora walked in, looking like Al Pacino on a movie set. He didn’t even seem concerned, and despite the fact that Aaran had a gun leveled at him, neither did Frye. Clearly, chaos didn’t have the same effect on these two that it did on me.
I felt like I wanted to climb behind the registration desk and cry.
But since I was supposed to be the mastermind behind this whole thing, I didn’t think I could pull that off. Instead, I sat up straight and put my hand out to Frank, who interpreted my gesture perfectly. I fired one round from his gun into the potted tree next to me. I hoped that a gunshot wouldn’t harm it after I’d saved it from probable poisoning earlier.
My theatrical move had the effect I desired, and the room went quiet. Victora and his bodyguard stepped forward, Frye shook Aaran’s arm off his shoulder, and Gregory and Ivan joined us in the middle of the lobby. I didn’t know exactly where Boone was, but he could definitely take care of himself. Now, I needed to take care of this situation before things got out of hand.
Just as the room quieted, Frye’s other bodyguard stepped into the lobby with Adaire and Beattie, both of whom looked exhausted but okay. I resisted the urge to run over to Beattie and hug her and instead used our best friend telepathic powers—otherwise known as a significant stare—to see if she was okay. She gave me a slow nod, and I went back to the situation at hand, feeling far more confident than I had twenty seconds earlier.
“Everyone sit,” I said as I held the gun at my side. “Now.” I was now channeling my second-grade teacher, Mrs. MacDowell, who could command a room with only that word.
Mrs. MacDowell’s powers stretched across time and space, apparently, because everyone found a chair and sat down in the center of the room. Once Ivan had come over to the group with Gregory, Aaran pulled the couch over near us and led Beattie and Adaire to it. When I looked at them closely, I could see how close to collapse they were, and my ire toward Frye deepened.
But now was not the time for me to exact my not-so-petty revenge on that jerkwad. Now was the time to answer the billion questions that had been floating around in my head. I’d started to see the pieces of the puzzle come together, but there were enough holes left that I needed everyone to start talking to fill them in.
I began with Victora, who had pulled up a chair next to me and was smiling faintly. His smugness infuriated me, but I pushed my anger down and said, “Why are you here?”
His smile broadened into a grin, and I glared at him harder. “For the same reason you are, my dear.” He paused after he spoke just to be sure I heard what he said.
He didn’t need to worry. I heard him, but I wasn’t taking the bait. “And why is that?”
“For the treasure,” he said. “I expect that’s why we’re all here.” He waved his hand over the assembled group. “Thanks to you and Mr. Stallone, we didn’t even need the books. You led us right here.”
I sighed. “You were in the white hatchback.”
“Well, not me, per se. I prefer something a little more comfortable for travel, but one of my associates, yes.” He was full-on smirking now.
I ignored him and turned to Frye. “And we know you want the books. For the same reason, I suppose, the treasure.”
He gave a curt nod and then glared at Victora. “Unfortunately, we were not as resourceful as my colleague. Clearly, we underestimated your prowess, Ms. Baxter.”
A tiny part of me wanted to gloat at the compliment, but that part of me was squashed by the larger part of me that remembered praise from a gangster wasn’t worth much. “I’m afraid no one is going to get the books or the treasure today,” I said as I turned to Gregory, “because there isn’t any treasure, is there, Mapmaker.”
Gregory held my gaze for a moment and then shook his head. “No, there is no treasure.”
Victora and Frye exchanged a glance and then Victora said to Gregory, “What do you mean? Of course there’s a treasure. It’s all anyone has been talking about for weeks.”
“Games are such fun, aren’t they?” a woman’s voice said from the staircase, where she stood with Boone.
“Bev?” I said. “What are you doing here?”
“Hi, Mom,” Gregory said. “Thanks for coming.”
“I wouldn’t miss my boy’s moment of triumph for the world,” she said as she slipped her arm through Boone’s and they came down the stairs together.
I caught Boone’s eye, and he winked. Clearly, he was not worried.
I saw that Aaran had moved in behind Victora’s bodyguard, and Ivan was standing with Frye near the door. Frank stepped over and took his gun from me before taking up a position near the door with Ivan. The danger, as best I could tell, was past, so I sat down and took a deep breath. “Gregory, please explain.”
“Gladly,” he said as he drew up his shoulders. “My name is Gregory Star. I believe you gentlemen knew my father.”
“My late husband, rest his soul,” Bev added.
I looked from Victora to Frye and relished, almost as much as Gregory, the look of shock on their faces. “You’re Stuart’s son,” Victora said in a quiet voice.