“What are you doing here?” Metcalf demanded.
Leroy decided to cover his tracks by playing innocent. He removed his hat and twirled it between his hands. “We had a meetin’. Don’t you remember, boss?”
“I distinctly remember telling my assistant that you were to wait in the foyer!”
Hunt made an elaborate show of scratching his head in puzzlement. “Is that what he said? I sure am sorry, Mr. Metcalf. I musta got confused.”
Abe straightened the front of his coat. “Indeed, you did.” He scrutinized the cowboy’s face, trying to read how much his visitor had guessed about that secret panel.
Leroy cultivated a blank expression.
Eventually, the old man gave up. “Have a seat,” he ordered and then lowered himself into his chair.
While his boss was getting settled, Leroy took a minute to assess what he’d seen. Sure enough, his hunch had been right. He’d lay odds that all the doodads were behind that paneled wall. Of course, there was bound to be more than a couple of inches of wood between him and his payday. If he had to guess, there’d be some kind of metal vault with loads of passwords and keycodes and such. Well, that was neither here nor there. When the time came, he’d get the old man to blab all the necessary passcodes. He had a way of making people talk, especially when they didn’t want to. For now, it was enough that he’d found the location of the stash.
Metcalf cut into his thoughts. “What did you want to see me about?”
“We got some unfinished business to discuss about Little Miss Hannah.”
At the mention of the gal’s name, Metcalf sat bolt upright. “Yes, of course. This relic quest has driven everything else from my mind. Where do you intend to look for her next?”
“Well, sir, last we heard, your little missus was learnin’ all about the big bad world at some school in Montana.”
Leroy had deliberately mentioned the school just to get a rise out of Metcalf. The preacher turned white as a sheet. He couldn’t stand the thought of his child-bride getting any notions in her head that Abe hadn’t put there himself.
“Far as I know, little Hannah is sittin’ tight in Billings. You want me to hop a plane and see if I can round her up for you?”
Metcalf nodded so hard he looked like one of those bobbleheads folks put on their dashboards. Leroy suppressed the urge to laugh out loud. He slapped on his poker face and kept his mouth still.
“Absolutely, Mr. Hunt. That must be your next priority. Bring her back to me as soon as you can.”
The cowboy gave a jaunty salute. “You got it, boss. That gal will be back in your arms ‘fore you can say ‘Wedded Bliss.’”
“Excellent.” Metcalf rose and walked to the door, opening it wide to indicate the meeting was over.
Hunt stuck his hat back on and shuffled out.
“Oh, and Mr. Hunt...” Metcalf called after him.
“Boss?” Leroy paused in the corridor.
“You are to be commended for a job well done in retrieving the most recent artifact. Carry on.”
“Yessir.” The cowboy turned his back and ambled in the direction of the front door. As he walked down the endless corridors, he turned over another plan in his mind about where Hannah might actually be hiding.
During the time when Leroy was overseas, he’d had something of a revelation—a notion that hadn’t occurred to him during all his weeks of following up one pointless lead after another. Somebody had sent him on a wild goose chase covering the entire United States of America... almost. There was one location that was missing from list of the places he’d visited. None of his fake leads brought him anywhere near the Midwest. That could only mean one thing about little Hannah’s true whereabouts. If Somebody had gone to such trouble to get Leroy out of Chicago, it was because Hannah had never left town in the first place. She was still here, and so was the Somebody who was protecting her. Leroy felt it was high time to dig up some dirt in his own backyard.
Chapter 52—Tempests ‘n’ Teapots
“Oh, my dears! It’s wonderful to see your smiling faces again!” Faye rose to greet Griffin and Cassie, hugging them each in turn.
They had just returned from the airport and immediately headed for her parlor at the vault to give their report. The room looked much like Faye’s living room at the farmhouse. A fire crackled in the grate, and the underground windows displayed the light of a late autumn afternoon.
“It was touch and go there for a while. We weren’t sure anybody was going to see our smiling faces ever again.” Cassie took a seat on the camelback sofa.
Griffin tucked in beside her.
A tea service had been set on the table in front of them, and Faye bustled forward to pour out cups for each of her guests.
Cassie turned excitedly to her partner. “Look, Griffin. Tea. Real tea!”
They drank down the hot contents immediately and held their cups out for more. Faye appeared perplexed by their reaction.
“Please don’t ask,” the pythia entreated. “It’s a painful memory.”
Cassie next scooped up a croissant. “Hello, you flaky delicacy. How I’ve missed you.” She passed the plate of pastries to Griffin. “Traveling to the top of the world sure gave me an appreciation for the comforts of home—a shower, a teabag, upholstered furniture, and any food that isn’t made from barley flour.”
At that moment, Maddie rounded the corner. “Well, well, the prodigals return.” She immediately settled herself on the opposite end of the couch.
“Did you receive the artifact?” Griffin asked anxiously.
“Got it yesterday. It’s safe and sound and waiting for your department to catalog it.”
“Where are Rabten and Rinchen?” the pythia asked. “I thought they’d be here for the big debrief.”
“Already left on another assignment,” Maddie informed them.
“Those two chaps are first-rate agents,” the scrivener said. “We couldn’t have
