‘I will not endure this,’ he exclaimed.
‘Sit down!’ Max shouted. ‘All of you, sit and be quiet. I am in no mood for childishness tonight.’
I gestured towards the sofa where I was sitting, and Leif joined me. Hans tried to squeeze his bulk into the narrow space between us. ‘Hey,’ I said. Max rolled his eyes.
‘Heaven give me patience. Hans, take a chair – that one, behind the sofa.’
Everyone subsided. The glum silence was broken by Max. He held up the finished silhouette.
‘It is not so pleasant as the last,’ he said in a worried voice.
‘I don’t feel as pleasant,’ I assured him. He had caught my scowl and out-thrust lip quite accurately.
Max picked up another piece of paper. It was black, not scarlet, but as his eyes focused on John, the latter sprang from his chair as if he had been stung.
‘This is a dull group,’ he announced. ‘What about a game?’
Without waiting for an answer, he threw open one of the cupboard doors. ‘Chess, checkers, Go, Monopoly . . . He must have bought out a toy shop. Anyone for a game of Scrabble?’
‘Why not?’ I stood up.
I don’t know what John would have done if someone else had accepted his offer. In fact, I didn’t know what he was going to do now that I had accepted it. The manoeuver was pretty obvious. Max thought so too. His eyes sparkled with malicious amusement.
‘What a charming idea. We will all be entertained. Rudi, sit at the table and call out the words as they are played.’
Apparently undisturbed by this suggestion, John poured the tiles out onto the table. I helped him turn them over and watched approvingly as he gave them a very perfunctory shuffle. I palmed the pieces I wanted – not very expertly, but nobody saw me. All eyes were glued on John.
I moved first. That was fine with me. I had only one question, but it was an important question, and I wasn’t sure when, if ever, I would have an opportunity to talk privately with John.
I spelled out ‘boss’ and rolled my eyes in Max’s direction as Rudi intoned the word like a bingo announcer.
‘No, no,’ John said. There was a brief but perceptible pause before he added, ‘You’ll have to do better than that, my girl.’
The confirmation came as no surprise. Directors of big criminal organizations don’t go into the field; they sit in fancy offices in New York or Hamburg or Marseilles, and give generous donations to charity. I realized there was another question I needed to ask, and cheated shamelessly as I collected my next tiles. Rudi didn’t notice; he was watching John.
John spelled ‘distract,’ using the second 5 in ‘boss,’ then folded his hands and smiled at me. One thumb was folded across; the other jerked up, indicating . . . Not Rudi, as I had expected. Hans, who was leaning over Leif’s shoulder trying to see the board.
If I had planned a spot of nocturnal spying, I’d rather have had Hans on my trail than Rudi. The latter was much more intelligent. However, Hans was much bigger. It was a moot point, and I figured John had his reasons.
Rudi announced ‘distract,’ with a thick Viennese accent. He was getting into the swing of it, rolling his
I spelled ‘initiame,’ slapping down the tiles with reckless haste, before Max could call the game off. It was the best I could do. I couldn’t find two
‘Initiame,’ Rudi said. ‘Wait – that is not a word. She is cheating.’
He sounded shocked.
‘Enough,’ Max said. ‘I am weary of your tricks, Smythe. Come here and sit for me. I am desirous of adding your portrait to my collection.’
Peter Lorre couldn’t have done it better – the long hiss of the sibilants, the faint, derisive smile. But the paper he finally selected was black. John didn’t appear to be visibly heartened by this; he gave me a very thoughtful look before moving to obey Max.
I collected the scattered tiles and folded the board. We had not had much time, but it had helped. Max was a subordinate, who had no authority to initiate action. Before calling off the dig, he would have to contact his boss. That meant we had a little more time.
As I finished packing up the game, the door burst open and Georg Hasseltine came in, carrying a wooden crate. He was alone; no guard for Georg. His gaze wandered over the room, ignoring his brother’s raised hand with unconscious cruelty, and focused on me.
‘There you are, Dr Bliss. I have been looking for you.’ He put the box on the table and pushed his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose. ‘You will appreciate what I have found.’
It took all my willpower to be civil to the little creep, but one never knows when civility will pay off. Besides, I was curious. Max wasn’t; he went on cutting. He knew that whatever Georg had found, it was not the treasure.
To an inexperienced eye – mine, in this case – the objects Georg placed tenderly on the table might have come from a garbage pile: two lumps of corroded metal, a roughly shaped stone, and a handful of bones, brown and brittle with age. The young man stood gazing down on this unsightly assemblage with shining eyes. He looked little older than his true age as enthusiasm warmed his features. My irresponsible emotions veered from contempt to pity.
‘You see?’ Georg said eagerly. ‘You realize what it means?’
Leif got up and joined us, closely followed by the faithful Hans. ‘What is it, Georg?’ he asked.
‘You wouldn’t understand.’ Georg continued to beam at me. ‘Isn’t it wonderful?’
My sympathies veered back, due north. ‘I don’t understand either,’ I said coolly. ‘I’m not an archaeologist, and the Iron Age isn’t my bag.’
Georg pounded on the give-away word. ‘I knew you would recognize them.’
‘Only that this is iron.’ I picked up one of the metal lumps. As I turned it in the light, it took on form. ‘Arrowhead?’ I hazarded.
‘More probably a point from a throwing spear. That isn’t definitive; a wandering hunter could have lost it. But the bones are those of domesticated animals – sheep and cattle. The spindle whorl proved my case.’
There was no point in pretending to be dense. If I didn’t say it, he would. ‘Kitchen midden,’ I said.
‘Yes. And that means habitation – probably a farm or fort. A rich settlement.’
‘Rich?’ Max rose, knuckles on the desk. ‘How do you know that?’
‘It’s a prime location,’ Georg answered. ‘Easy to defend, with its own water supply and ample pasturage. A coveted site. Only a strong leader could hold it. Probably a local chieftain or jarl.’
‘But the treasure,’ Max said. ‘Where would they have hidden it?’
Georg lifted one shoulder and smiled at me – one intellectual to another, deploring the ignorance of the hoi polloi. ‘The treasure is unimportant. I suspect that this – ’
‘Unimportant?’ Max’s voice was very quiet, but it wiped the smile from Georg’s lips. ‘What do you think we are here for, you young fool? If you have learned anything from your digging, you had better tell me at once, or – ’
‘Wait.’ Leif moved quickly, putting himself between the angry little man and Georg. ‘Let me talk to him. He will tell me.’
‘Talk, then. Persuade him. If you fail, there are other methods.’
Georg appeared shaken. Maybe his last fix was wearing off. He allowed Leif to lead him out.
John edged towards the door. ‘Excuse me,’ he murmured. ‘I know it’s frightfully early, but . . .’
‘Go, then. All of you – except you, Dr Bliss. I wish to talk to you.’
John didn’t favour me with a glance or a goodnight. He ambled out, followed by Rudi. When the door had closed behind them, Max let out a long sigh.
‘Please sit down, Dr Bliss. You have nothing to fear from me. I think we can help one another.’
