The Oracle's Message (21 page)

It took a few hours for Annja to get home from Martha’s Vineyard. The flight from the island to the small airport in Westchester County was rife with turbulence. Annja had spent the majority of the flight thinking how incredibly ironic it would be to come through encounters with sharks, a spear in her leg and multiple knife wounds only to have the plane she was in plummet to the earth on her way home from the hospital.

Fortunately, it stayed aloft, but Annja was thrilled to get off the puddle jumper. She grabbed her bags and walked to the small terminal. At the entrance, she saw a black car waiting and a driver holding a placard with her name on it.

“That’s me,” she said to the youngish driver holding the card. “Who sent the car?”

The driver took her bags. “Your friends at the television show,” he said. “There’s a bottle of champagne on ice in the backseat, if you’d like to spend the drive getting comfortable.”

Annja smiled. “Thanks, but I think I’ll wait until I’m off my medication.”

He nodded. “Looks like you had a pretty bad run-in with a train.”

“You should see the train,” Annja said. “But yeah, let’s just say I’m going to be glad to get home.”

He stowed her bags in the trunk and then opened the door for her. “Well, just let me do the driving and I’ll have you home in no time.”

“Thanks.” Annja ducked inside and slid into the leather seats. The cushioning felt great against her flight-rattled spine. In the foot well, she spotted the bucket of ice with the champagne sticking out of it. Annja reached and lifted the bottle halfway out. It looked delicious. And expensive.

“This is a pretty hefty bottle of champagne,” Annja said. “A 1995 Krug?”

“Clos du Mesnil,” the driver said. “One of only about thirteen thousand bottles produced that year according to the guy at the store.”

“You bought this?”

The driver shrugged. “I was told to make sure you had an expensive bottle to drink at your leisure. I did as I was told.”

Annja looked at the bottle. She knew about the Clos du Mesnil champagne. It was what was known as Blanc de Blanc, coming exclusively from a tiny four-and-a-half-acre walled vineyard that was exclusively chardonnay.

“Well, I will definitely have a nice time with this once I’m better. Thanks for choosing it.”

The driver shrugged. “Just doing my job. But thank you.”

Annja leaned back in the seat and let the rhythm of the car relax her.

She was on several pain medications and had immediately discarded some strong stuff due to its effects on her stomach. But the others she kept. And it did take the edge off, but Annja was always wary of taking too many pills. She’d found they dulled her senses and the last thing she needed in her line of work was dull senses.

No thanks.

The driver steered them onto the highway and the engine kicked into a higher gear. The constant hum of the engine put Annja into a drowsy mood.

Before she knew it, she was fast asleep.

“M
ISS
?”

Annja stirred. She took a breath and realized the car had stopped. Glancing out the window, she saw her building.

Home.

“Sorry, it’s been a long trip.”

The driver nodded. “No problem. Glad you were able to rest some on the way.” He held the door as she stepped out.

“Thanks.”

The driver leaned inside the car and came out with the bottle of Krug. “Don’t forget the good stuff, Miss.”

Annja smiled. “You’re a helluva driver, pal. Thanks.”

He touched his hat. “My pleasure. Your bags are right over there on the stoop.”

The driver got back in the car. Within seconds, he was gone.

Annja stood on the front steps of her building and looked up and down the street. “Damn, it’s nice to be back here.”

She picked up her bags, unlocked the front door and walked inside.

She desperately wanted a hot bath.

Inside her loft she put the champagne in the refrigerator. “Got to keep that baby cold,” she said to herself.

She picked up the stereo remote and hit it once. She’d programmed it to always play on shuffle unless she specified otherwise. Instantly, the sound of Cole Porter streamed out of her speakers.

“Nice,” she said quietly.

Annja dumped her bags in her bedroom and then padded into the bathroom to switch on the faucet. She added a sprinkle of lavender bath salts to the water and started to get undressed.

Cole Porter was replaced by Dexter Gordon and Annja nodded approvingly. If the shuffle kept up like this, it would be a good night indeed.

On a whim, she switched her computer on and logged in to check her email. As promised, Vic had sent her his contact information. George had also sent her a note wishing her well.

She saw one farther down from the staff at
Chasing History’s Monsters.
She opened it. Dear Annja—Hope your flight was good. Love from all!

Annja smiled. She decided to call to thank them for their care and concern.

She heard the voice of Jenny Stuart, who had just joined as a production assistant.

“Oh, my God, Annja, it’s you! How are you?”

“I’m fine, thanks.”

“We were so worried when we heard that you’d gotten hurt. Are you all right now?”

“I will be with a bit of rest. So no globetrotting for a while, I’m afraid.”

“Everyone’s crowding around the phone. Can I put you on speaker?”

“Sure.”

Annja heard the click and then a chorus of voices started speaking. Amid the hellos, she heard all her friends from the show. Annja felt a swelling in her throat and realized she should get off the phone or risk crying in front of them all.

“I just wanted to say thanks for getting me the car service and the wonderful bottle of champagne. It meant the world to me.”

There was a sudden silence.

“Hello?” Annja said.

“Uh, Annja?” It was Doug Morrell, her producer. “We didn’t get you a car service. Or champagne, for that matter. Our budgets would never permit that.”

Annja frowned. “You didn’t?”

“No. We wanted to do something like that, of course, but you know how things work.”

“Let me call you back,” Annja said. She hung up and then checked the emails from Vic and George. Maybe one of them had arranged the car service and the ridiculously expensive bottle of champagne.

But neither email said anything about it.

Annja thought about calling them and then shrugged it off.

Roux.

He’d disappeared without saying goodbye aside from the flowers at the hospital. And that champagne was certainly in keeping with his style. She smiled. She wasn’t happy that he’d ducked out on her, but the champagne was certainly nice.

Annja sunk into the bath and the scent of lavender surrounded her. She could feel her muscles relaxing as the heat opened them up. Tonight’s agenda was set, she decided. After the bath, she’d order some Chinese food from the delivery joint down the street. Sometimes a plate of chicken fried rice and boneless spareribs was just what the doctor ordered.

And then she planned to sleep for days.

She slid deeper into the water until it was just up under her nostrils.

Dexter Gordon changed over to Earle Hagen’s “Harlem Nocturne.” Another appropriate tune, Annja decided, especially given that she was back in the great town of New York City.

After a good soak in the tub, she decided that if she stayed in any longer, she would undoubtedly fall sound asleep. And drowning in the tub was a pretty silly way to die after all the diving she’d been doing lately.

Annja toweled off, threw a second towel around her hair and walked into her bedroom. After choosing a pair of sweat-pants and a clean T-shirt, Annja dried her hair and let it fall about her shoulders.

She walked into her kitchen and found the plastic folder where she kept all her take-out menus. Opening the Chinese restaurant one, she ran her finger down the page examining the appetizers.

Annja reached for the phone as the stereo abruptly switched over to Wagner. The music was too serious.

That wasn’t really what she was in the mood for, she decided. She padded into the living room and looked for the remote control.

Joachim Spier sat on her couch. The bottle of champagne was open in front of him. He held a glass in one hand.

He had a silenced pistol in the other.

“I have to admit I’m offended that you chose not to open the bottle in the car,” Spier said. “I rather hoped you’d be quite drunk by the time you got back here.”

“Sorry to ruin your plans,” Annja said. “Too many pills in my system to deal with alcohol right now.”

Spier nodded. “I figured there would be, but I was unsure whether you were one of those people who doesn’t mind mixing a little booze with their medications.” He shrugged. “Apparently you listen to some of your doctors.”

“Some of them, yes.”

“Dr. Tiko would be offended if he knew how you treat American doctors with more respect than Filipino ones.”

Annja shook her head. “I treat them all with just as much respect as they require to do their jobs. But don’t think I’m a fan of any of them. Their nationality doesn’t matter to me in the slightest.”

Spier took a sip of the champagne. “Are you aware of how much this bottle cost me?”

“Probably about a cool grand,” Annja said. “It’s quite a good bottle.”

Spier eyed her. “You know your champagne?”

“The driver and I discussed it on the ride back from the airport. He did as you asked apparently.”

“That car company caters to wealthy clients so their drivers are certainly a cut above the usual riffraff that staff livery services. I knew they’d get it right.”

Annja stood there wondering what would happen next. “And what is it that I can do for you, Herr Spier? Shouldn’t you be hiding under a rock somewhere? Last I heard there was an international manhunt on for you.”

Spier shrugged. “Is there? You know, it’s rather amusing how much anonymity money can buy you. I can go where I want provided I pave the path with enough bribes and favors.”

“Lucky you. Now answer my question.”

Spier sipped the champagne and then put the glass down. “You ruined my plans, Annja. And you killed my men.”

“I heard a few sharks helped out in that regard.”

Spier frowned. “A dishonorable way for them to die. But enough about them. It’s time you and I had ourselves a talk.”

“We’ve got nothing to talk about, Spier. You should probably leave before I kill you.”

Spier pointed at Annja’s armchair. “Really, Annja, you should sit down and have some of this amazing champagne. It would be a terrible shame for us to waste this now that I’ve gone ahead and opened up the bottle.”

“Yeah, thanks for the offer. How rude of you to help yourself without asking me.”

Spier shrugged. “Well, really, I gave it to you so I felt I could be forward and open it. I even got an extra glass for you.”

Annja noticed the empty flute on the table. She sat across from Spier. He leaned forward and poured her some.

When he was done, he lifted his glass and toasted her. “Here’s to you and your persistence, Annja. You are quite literally something of a marvel to me and I respect your qualities immensely.”

Annja lifted her glass halfway and took a sip. The champagne tasted incredible. She put it back down. “That’s quite nice.”

“Indeed,” Spier said. “And it is a worthy drink for a woman as accomplished as you.”

“What would you have gotten me if I hadn’t managed to disarm the pearl?”

“If it had detonated?” Spier smiled. “I doubt we would be having this conversation.”

Annja nodded. “True, you’d be too busy what with being sworn in as the new German chancellor and all.”

Spier laughed. “That would be rushing the natural order of things, I fear. But yes, eventually that position would have been mine.”

“You don’t seem particularly upset about the fact that I ruined your plans.”

Spier took another sip. “You know, Annja, you don’t get to be as old as I am without realizing that time is a fickle thing. As many plans as you set up and hope to implement, the universe tends to have its own schedule. So while I was initially enraged at your interference, I have to say that I have relaxed quite a bit.”

“That champagne helps, I suppose.”

“Oh, indeed,” Spier said. “And you know what they say about a good drink, don’t you?”

“No. What?”

“That it can often lead to tremendous inspiration. Exactly why so many of the world’s most talented authors indulged as much as they did. Hemingway was a notorious drinker.”

“So you’ve been inspired? Is that it? I can expect you to go home and write a book now?”

Spier shook his head. “Oh, my heavens, no. I’m not nearly gifted enough to pen a novel, I fear.”

“No?”

“I’m destined for other things,” Spier said. “Ruling a country called Germany, namely.”

“I’d love to know how you intend to do that,” Annja said. “Especially when your homeland won’t even welcome you back now.”

Spier waved his hand. “It’s a trifle of a matter. Once I have the necessary implement back in my possession, everything will fall into place, I have no doubt.”

“And what is that?”

“The pearl, of course.”

Annja frowned. Vic told her that the divers hadn’t found it. Annja had wondered if Spier had managed to come back and grab it. And yet he was here now telling her that he didn’t have it.

“That’s where you come in, Annja,” Spier said. “You’re going to help me get it back.”

“I don’t have it.”

Spier frowned. “I warn you, Annja, that as much as I’m willing to let our bygones be bygones, I won’t tolerate silly games. I know you disarmed the pearl and then all hell broke loose. But you are most definitely going to tell me where it is. Otherwise, I’ll be forced to kill you.”

“You’ll kill me, anyway.”

Spier shook his head. “Believe it or not, I actually relish the notion of leaving you alive. There are so few interesting people in the world these days. You are certainly one of a select few. Regardless of the fact that you bested me, I am willing to leave you be. Unless you make it absolutely necessary for me to kill you.”

Annja sipped her champagne. “Sorry, Joachim, but I don’t know where the pearl is.”

“You’re lying.”

Annja shook her head. “Nope. When I woke up in the hospital that was one of the first things I asked about. My friends said they’d sent divers down there to retrieve it. But no one found it.”

She could see the range of emotions run across Spier’s face as he tried to process the information. Anger won out. “Annja, you’re tempting the fates by insisting on such lies. Tell me where they’ve put it.”

“They—and I take that to mean the U.S. government—don’t have it. I’m not lying to you, Joachim. I’m being absolutely and totally serious. We don’t know where the pearl is.”

Spier sat there for another moment and then took a deep sip of champagne. He refilled his glass and gestured to do the same for Annja.

“No, thanks,” Annja said. “I’m still working on what I’ve got here.”

“As you wish,” Spier said. He drank some more and then set the glass down. He glanced at the pistol in his hand. “You know I could kill you right now, don’t you?”

“Sure.”

“And yet that holds no fear for you.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Annja said. “I mean, I don’t really feel like dying after everything I’ve been through. But I can’t help you with the pearl. I really can’t. So if you’re going to kill me, then go ahead and get it done. I’m tired and hungry and was looking forward to some Chinese food tonight.”

Spier looked into her eyes and then chewed his lip. “You are telling me the truth, aren’t you?”

“Yep.”

“Amazing.” He grinned. “You know, Annja, I’ve got to admit that I have become quite…impressed with you. What you’re able to do, the things you did in the Philippines and in Martha’s Vineyard…I mean, they’re simply remarkable. And that sword, of course. I wonder if there’s anything you can’t do if you put your mind to it.”

“I don’t know,” Annja said.

“What would you say to coming with me?”

Annja raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

Spier leaned forward. “I mean it. Come join me on my most audacious plan to date. The loss of the pearl is a setback, for sure, but with you by my side, I would be unstoppable. And we would share in the power and glory of the future of Germany.”

“You’re kidding me.”

Spier shook his head. “I’m absolutely serious. Marry me. Be my bride. I’ll see to it that you never want for anything as long as we live.”

Annja downed the rest of her champagne. “This has been some crazy week.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I’ve got a computer hacker, a special-operations soldier turned super spy and now a megalomaniac all declaring their interest in me. It’s really getting out of hand, I think.”

She stood and paced the room.

Spier stood, as well. “Annja, I’m not saying that I’m in love with you right this very moment. But I am certainly fascinated by you. We could be great together.”

Annja shook her head. “No, we would be terrible together. You’re ancient, Joachim. Not to mention that you are an evil man trying to usurp power for himself and run his country into the ground.”

Spier shrugged. “Think of what I could do to my country being the natural genius that I am.”

“Modest, too,” Annja said. “But no thanks, Joachim. I think I’ll take my chances with the cesspool that the dating scene has become.”

Spier looked at the pistol in his hand. “I’m not a man who handles rejection well, Annja.”

Annja glared at him. Spier had seen what she was capable of. Would he really try to kill her himself? Did he think he could do it?

“You’re not going to kill me, Joachim.”

“I will if I must.”

Annja smiled. “Your men were ready to do it. And they damn near succeeded. But you’re not a killer. You’re just a facilitator. You hire the killers and then sic them on their targets.”

“You’re not giving me enough credit, Annja.”

“I think I might have given you too much credit actually.”

Spier shook his head and then sighed. “So be it.”

He raised the pistol and started to thumb the hammer back.

So be it indeed, Annja thought. She was already moving, running and leaping across the space between them, summoning the sword as she did. The steel blade flashed and there was a sharp clang as it cut through the gun Spier held.

Pieces of the pistol clattered away as Spier suddenly vaulted himself over the back of the couch. He regained his footing and smiled at Annja.

“Maybe it’s better this way.”

Annja shook her head. How was an eighty-year-old able to vault like that?

Spier smiled. “Let’s finish this in style, shall we?”

He raced for the stairs leading to the roof, and as he ran toward them, he grabbed a replica polearm that Annja had in her loft.

Annja ran after him, but again Spier’s vitality proved incredible. By the time Annja reached the door to the roof, Spier was nowhere to be seen.

An early-evening breeze whipped around her. Annja held up the sword, aware that at any moment some kid with his video phone would no doubt capture the fight and post it to YouTube.

Spier attacked from out of nowhere and Annja felt her feet swept out from under her as he brought the end of the polearm across the backs of her ankles.

Annja landed hard and had to roll because Spier was already trying to spear her with the business end of the weapon.

She felt the gravel and grit bite into her back. She was pretty sure she felt a few stitches tear, as well.

Spier kept up his attack and drove Annja across the roof of her building. “You should have joined with me, Annja. We could have been amazing together. The world would have feared us.”

Annja came up in a semicrouch, eyeing Spier. The sword in her hand shimmered in the fading sunlight. “Not a chance.”

Spier unleashed a scream and raced right at Annja.

Annja sidestepped the attack and cut down on the polearm. Her blade chopped it in two but then Spier spun the piece in his hand up into her face.

Annja felt it strike her hard and she saw stars for a moment.

“I was a master of European martial arts,” Spier said. “It was a long time ago, of course, but some things you don’t forget.”

Spier attacked her again and again and Annja felt her strength waning under the weight of her past injuries, the medication and the champagne. But she knew that Spier wouldn’t stop.

She rolled across the roof and came up on one knee.

Spier sensed her weakness. “I’m sorry it has to end this way, Annja.”

He brought the polearm up high overhead and slashed down at her.

Annja rolled again and came up under the arc of his attack, stabbing straight up and in with her sword.

The blade slid into Spier’s body and the old man simply slid down the blade until his last breath escaped his lungs.

Annja dropped the blade and let him fall.

Spier’s lifeless body lay in a widening pool of blood. Annja stood over him, looking down at his corpse. It was unbelievable that he was finally dead.

She raced downstairs and immediately called Vic.

“Annja? What’s wrong?”

“Spier was here.”

“Are you serious? Jesus Christ. What did he want?”

“He wanted to marry me.”

“What? What did you say?”

“I killed him,” Annja said. “His body is on my roof at this very moment. I think you’d better come over and clean things up, if you get my drift.”

“I’ll have people there shortly.”

Annja hung up the phone and then dropped down on the couch where Spier had just been sitting. The bottle of champagne still bubbled in front of her.

Annja drank it while she waited for Vic’s people to show up.