The Devil's Chord

“Nope. This is the first time. But when a guy offers me a stack of bills, I’m on the team.”

Great. So this guy hadn’t been vetted, apparently. But if he owned the boat, then he must have experience with diving crews. She’d cross her fingers for that outcome. It occurred to Annja that they didn’t even need a boat. They could have dived from the dock or sidewalk. But privacy was a concern, so having the boat would allow them to set themselves apart from anyone on land.

“So how am I a babysitter?” Annja asked, leaning against the steel railing. Ian passed her and set down his camera equipment on a bench and began to unpack it.

Kard shrugged. “Roberts said he was hired by an old dude who intended to send in another diver to keep an eye on him, seeing as how they hadn’t worked together before.”

Roux had neglected to mention the babysitting aspect of this job. Annja was none too pleased. She preferred to focus on the task rather than on her partner’s character. Roux had never worked with Roberts before? Great. Nothing like going into something blind.

A large crest of water splashed the starboard side and up popped a diver. He tossed a hard-shell handheld lamp onto the boat and then gripped the aluminum stairs and climbed up over the side. After he peeled the tight diver’s cap off his head, the man’s dark blond hair spiked this way and that. He looked young. Annja’s age. Too young to hold tenure and to have been through such nefarious experiences as listed in the dossier.

He took in Annja from head to toe, noted Ian with a frown, winked at Kard, then slapped a wet palm into hers.

“Scout Roberts. Delighted to be at your service, Miss Creed. But not so delighted about that guy. You a cameraman?” he asked Ian.

Ian nodded and stood, but after the cold reception, did not offer a hand to shake.

“He’s with me,” Annja clarified. “I’ll be documenting the dive for possible use as a segment on Chasing History’s Monsters.”

“No, you won’t,” Scout confirmed confidently. He slapped a wet palm against his suit, and the spray of water misted Annja’s face. “I know that show. They do monsters. We’re not monster hunting, Creed.”

“No, but we are diving for buried treasure. I’ve occasionally featured lost treasures on the show.”

“Yeah, I don’t know about that.” The man hooked a hand at his hip, glaring at Ian for a while. “I wasn’t even expecting you, Creed, until I got the call from Roux last night. A babysitter I can deal with. But no camera crew is getting in our way. The canal is relatively shallow and narrow and we don’t have the space.”

“The camera crew consists of one,” Annja corrected him, “and you don’t get a say in his being here. Roux approved it.” Buying the extra plane ticket was as good an approval as any. “You’ve already completed a dive this morning?”

“Nothing official. Just stuck my head down to get a lay of the land, or canal, if you will.” Scout addressed Ian. “If you get in my way—”

Annja stepped between the men. “He’s a professional and has filmed while diving in Venice before. And you’re out of line. Can we agree to keep things genial, since we must trust one another to have our backs while underwater?”

Scout whistled and turned his back to them. Let him pout about it, she thought. If Mr. Cocky couldn’t handle another diver on this team then Annja would take the lead, if necessary. Until then, she would stand back and let him run this show. For the most part.

“Scout?” she prompted him for a reply.

“Yeah, yeah.” He swept a dismissive hand behind him. A poor agreement, but she imagined it killed him to show that much assent.

“So this is the correct area?” she asked, hoping to settle both mens’ ire by changing the subject.

“According to the few details I’ve read about the heist, it should be,” Scout said.

He unzipped the wet suit to reveal defined pecs and abs that again made him appear much younger than Annja had expected. Sitting on the bench before her, he bent to pull off his fins. She couldn’t deny he was a handsome blond, with blue eyes and a sweet dimple that poked into his left cheek with each smile. Judging from his looks and quick wit, she’d bet he had no trouble making friends almost anywhere. But could he be trusted? His response to Ian being there didn’t bode well, or maybe she was being too paranoid.

Still, a hotshot? She could deal with that. Might prove more interesting than some of the shy academics she’d spent weeks with on a dig.

“And what are the few details?” she asked. “I’m afraid I’m at a disadvantage. After Roux contacted me, I immediately hopped on a plane to Venice.”

“You at the man’s beck and call?” Scout cast her a curious glance. “Thought you were more independent. I’ve heard of you. Recognized you the minute I surfaced. Annja Creed, the host of her own TV show. A world-famous archaeologist. Author—”

“Roux’s a friend,” Annja interrupted. “Most of the time. And we both share an interest in Joan of Arc artifacts and history.”

“So do I.” Scout stood and gestured to Kard, who tossed him a bottle of beer that he’d taken from a mini-fridge. “More so on the da Vinci stuff, but I like a good saintly knickknack any day.”

“Whatever will earn you a few bucks, eh?”

“Creed, please. You calling me a treasure hunter?”

“I’ll reserve judgment. But what’s in it for you? What is Roux paying you for this job?”

“I don’t share salary information, sweetie. Would you?”

Salary? From Roux? That was a joke. She’d be lucky if he didn’t stiff her with the hotel bill. She might have to call Doug yet. “Sorry, that was crass.”

“If it matters, I approached Roux. I overheard him discussing Joan’s history at an auction, and having been studying this theft-gone-wrong for a few months and yet not put together the budget to recover the lost relics, I sought Roux out. Wanted to see if he’d like to invest in something that would net a valuable artifact for him.”

“So you’re just going on the dive for the thrill?”

“And the fame, of course. Maybe a spot on your show?” he added.

“As you pointed out, we only feature monsters. You fall into that category, Roberts?”

“Me? No way. I’m as harmless as they come.” He gave her a wide, warm smile and took a long drink of his beer.

“Again, I’ll reserve judgment.”

Yeah, the man would be able to work fame like a pro, she guessed. But with his background? If he were seeking fame, that didn’t jibe with the dossier that marked him a pariah among his fellow archaeologists.

“Why don’t you two suit up?” Scout said. “Then I’ll show you the maps.”

Chapter 4 (#ulink_5ccc09e3-0899-5d9d-9189-1f14e521f9ce)

Scout hadn’t expected that someone would be scrutinizing his every move while he recovered the case. But he could live with it. Actually, he could use the backup when diving. And the backup was gorgeous. That would make the day go a little faster.

But the cameraman?

Scout shot a look toward Ian Tate, who pulled on a wet suit as he chatted with Kard about the tidal flows in and out of the canal. Scout had found Kard and hired him late last evening. The boat wasn’t the greatest, biggest or best, but it was cheap and would ferry them around the canal safely, and Kard seemed reasonably able, even with a few beers down his gullet. While he wasn’t footing the bill, Scout did like to keep expenses to a minimum. Fat bills attracted questions.

With luck, this operation should prove an in-and-out foray. Even with the close proximity to the sea, Scout didn’t suspect the tides could have moved the lost treasure that far. Or he hoped they had not.

Too bad the tides weren’t so rough they could wash a cameraman out to sea.

“You want a beer?” he asked Ian.

The cameraman shook his head. “You crazy, man? We’re getting ready to dive.”

Scout shrugged. It had been worth a try.

* * *