Phantom Prospect - Alex Archer [46]
“Yeah, most people don’t.” Annja kept the blade pointed at Sheila’s throat. “You know, I don’t really have a high tolerance for waiting. I’m much more of a ‘let’s get it all out in the open’ kinda gal. So, we’ll have a talk about these bad guys and not worry about what Garin might or might not say. How does that sound, hmm?”
Sheila’s eyes were locked on the blade that seemed to hover just inches from the base of her throat. “There’s really no need to bring that out and use it to threaten me.”
“I’m not threatening you, Sheila.” Annja smiled. “I’m just using this to illustrate a point—namely, that I don’t like waiting. Especially when I know you have the answer to the questions I have.”
“I feel like you’re threatening me.”
“I don’t really care, to be honest.” Annja pressed the sword at Sheila’s throat. “See, I figure if you don’t tell me, I’ll just slice your head off and then tell Garin you had a horrible accident involving our pal the shark. Really an unfortunate turn of events, but that’s the way it goes sometimes, huh?”
“You wouldn’t.”
Annja shook her head. “Don’t even go there with me. You won’t like the result.”
Sheila glared at Annja. “You’re serious.”
“Deadly.”
“I shouldn’t do this,” Sheila said. “I’d be violating one of Garin’s rules that he ingrained in me a long time ago.”
“Your choice,” Annja said. “Makes no difference to me. Or to the sword I’m holding.”
Sheila frowned. “This isn’t how I envisioned our friendship developing, Annja.”
“No?”
“I thought we had some sort of trust going.”
Annja shook her head. Outside, she could see that clouds moving in had thwarted some of the afternoon sun. “That kind of went out the window when you picked the lock on my door.”
Sheila sat quietly and then looked at Annja. “Fine. The organization is headed by a guy from Cleveland—”
“Cleveland?”
“That’s what I said, why?”
Annja shrugged. “Never thought of a nefarious organization having someone in charge from Cleveland. Just doesn’t seem right.” She shook her head. “Whatever. Keep going.”
“His name is Henderson. That’s all anyone knows. He’s supposedly one of these religious nuts who’s obsessed with anything even remotely supernatural. Doesn’t matter if it’s from some other culture or what. If he hears about it, he wants it.”
“And the crucifix fits in with his ideology?”
“Henderson’s ideology is simple. If it’s powerful, he wants it.”
“To what end?”
Sheila shook her head. “Who knows? No one’s ever really seen Henderson. He could be a complete flake. Or he could be a captain of industry. All we know is he has people everywhere, and when he hears about something unusual, he gets his fingers into it.”
“Why didn’t he recover the crucifix himself?”
“Henderson’s never been much of a starter. He prefers swooping in after the work has already been done. He’ll wait until the crucifix is recovered and then come and steal it. Easier that way.”
Annja nodded. “Guess I can see how that might look attractive.”
“He’s on the hunt for this crucifix, Annja. He wants it very badly. The lure of immortality has always held sway over men.”
“Women, too,” Annja said. “Seems to me I can recall plenty of historical figures who spent their whole lives looking for something that would stave off the onslaught of age and death.”
“Indeed. And Henderson is definitely one of those types. Garin’s intelligence estimates his age at almost eighty.”
“He wants the fountain of youth,” Annja said.
“But he’ll settle for something that keeps death away.”
Annja eyed Sheila. “Who works for him?”
“Anyone he can pay. He recruits from every walk of life, knowing that money tends to make people very open to things like murder, deception and stuff along those lines.”
“You’re certain that he knows about the crucifix?”
“Absolutely.” Sheila frowned. “He managed to plant someone on this boat. Apparently, Hunter’s rather loose approach to hiring people worked out well for Henderson’s organization. No background checks means they didn’t have to work hard at positioning their people or supplying them with an extensive résumé prior to sending