Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter Colletion_ Books 6-10 - Laurell K. Hamilton [513]
“So you sent Wilkes and his bully boys around to scare me off.”
“Yes, and I hired two locals to kill you. Are they dead?”
I smiled. “I didn’t search you guys for wires, now did I?”
He seemed to find that amusing. “I suppose not. But I assume the two men will not be coming back for the second half of their payment.”
“You can assume that,” I said.
The waitress came with our food. We were all utterly quiet as she set the plates down. She put syrup in front of me and asked if we wanted anything else. We all shook our heads, and off she went.
I stared down at my pancakes and bacon and wished I hadn’t ordered them. I wasn’t in the mood to spar anymore. I just wanted this over.
“If you’re not supposed to confront me directly, then why the change of plans? Why this meeting?”
He smiled and cut a piece of his country omelet. “Anita, do not be coy. I think we both know that Wilkes does not have the stomach for this work. He may work himself up to shooting you, but he is not up to truly scaring you away. His threat, shall we say, lacks a certain fright factor.” He took his bite of omelet and chewed.
“Is the threat next?” I said, pouring syrup on my pancakes.
He smiled, dabbed at his mouth with a napkin, and shook his head. “Let us save that for last. Now, ask your questions.”
“Why do you want this piece of land?”
Richard shifted in his chair, leaning forward. He’d been wondering about that particular question longer than I had.
“There is a relic on that land somewhere. I need to own the land so I can tear it up and search for the relic.”
“What relic?” I asked.
He smiled. “The lance that pierced Christ’s side.”
I stared at him. I stared at him longer. He didn’t seem to be kidding. “That is a myth, Niley.”
“You don’t believe in Christ?”
“Of course I do, but a Roman lance doesn’t last for thousands of years. It was lost long ago.”
“Do you believe in the Grail?” he asked.
“The Grail is a historical fact. It’s been found and lost twice in recorded history. The spear has never been authenticated. It’s passed around like the bones of some saint, but it’s just bait for the gullible.”
“Do I look gullible, Anita?”
“No,” I said. “How did it get to the mountains of Tennessee?”
“The spear was given as a private gift to President James Madison.”
I frowned at him. “I don’t remember that from history class.”
“It is listed among the gifts from a certain Mideastern principality. One spear, Roman. Unfortunately, it was one of the items that went missing after the British burned and sacked Washington, D.C., in 1815.”
“I remember reading about the burning of the White House during the War of 1812. Valuables went missing. So, say you’re right. How did it end up here?” I asked.
“Howard has chased it here through his psychic gifts. The spirits have led us to this place. We hired a diviner, and he traced off the boundaries of our search area. That area lies within Greene’s land.”
“Search the land,” Richard said. “You don’t have to buy it to do that. You don’t have to disturb the trolls to search for a spear.”
“It could be buried anywhere on the land, Richard. I don’t think Greene would appreciate us tearing up his property unless we owned it.”
“I’m amazed that Greene is still alive,” I said.
“We looked into his father’s will. Did you know that if the man’s son dies, the land becomes an animal preserve? He was enamored of your trolls, Mr. Zeeman, was the late Farmer Greene.”
“I didn’t know that,” Richard said.
“Why should you? John Greene, the man’s son, is trying to sell to us. He told us all the provisions of his father’s estate. He was complaining about them, but it saved his life. So we must buy the land, and the trolls must be gone for that—unless you will simply stop fighting the sale in court.” Niley smiled at Richard.