the elevator door closed behind her, he crossed to the beach side of Ocean Drive. He took in a deep breath of night air, gazed at the moonlight reflecting off the Atlantic.
After a moment, he leaned against a palm tree, opened his camera bag. He kept his eye on the hotel as he fixed his zoom lens onto the camera body, then put it away. He lowered the bag to the ground and turned his full attention to the hotel. He didn't have to wait long. A couple of minutes later, he saw Monica retrace her steps across the lobby and leave. He wasn't surprised.
Her story didn't ring true to him. He'd realized it when she'd slipped up and said she knew that the Chinese restaurant he'd mentioned was in the Grove. The place had been in Little Havana for years, and had reopened in the Grove only a couple of months ago. He didn't have any idea why she would lie to him, but now he was curious. He wanted to know who she was.
She headed away from the beach, walking at a swift pace. Pierce trailed well behind her, walking on the opposite side of the street. It was still before midnight; plenty of cars and people were around to make it easy for him to remain inconspicuous. He had an idea where she would lead him, and he was right. When she neared the Jack of Clubs, she approached a white VW Cabriolet, unlocked the door, and slid behind the wheel.
Pierce hurried ahead another hundred feet, unlatching the strap on his camera bag as he ran. He ducked inside a doorway a half a block away from the car. Dropping down on one knee, he took out his camera and pulled out the zoom lens to its full extent.
As the car started and the lights came on, he focused on the license plate. He lowered the camera and watched the car pull away. He wouldn't have any trouble remembering what he'd read. Monica had a personalized license plate: MAYA-2.
Chapter 6
I n the dream, the crystal skull rested in the middle of a table. He was seated on one side of it, Monica on the other. She was dressed like a gypsy and stared intently into the skull, seeking to divine something. The jaws of the skull were moving, speaking. What it said was important, but Pierce couldn't quite hear, couldn't understand.
Suddenly Monica's hand and arm were sliding into the skull's mouth; it was devouring her. He grabbed her other arm and pulled. But the mouth kept swallowing her, and suddenly the jaws clamped onto his own hand and he was being dragged down after her.
The peal of the phone punctured the dream; the reality hissed out of it and he rolled over, blinking hard against the light. He patted the table until he found the receiver and answered in a gravelly voice.
"Good morning, Nicholas."
The voice was cheery and familiar, but Pierce couldn't place it.
"It's Ray Andrews. Hope I didn't wake you."
He cleared his throat, sat up. "Ray, hello. No, it's okay." He rubbed his face, trying to clear the sleep from his head. A vague memory of his dream, something about the crystal skull, jumbled together with the woman he'd met, tracked across his mind.
"You sure?"
He looked over at the clock on his bed stand, saw it was almost eight-thirty. "It's time I got up."
"How are you feeling? I read about what happened to you."
"I'm okay, Ray. Just a lump on the head. Appreciate your concern."
"I'm glad you're all right, because we need to get together as soon as possible."
Pierce cleared his throat again. "What's up?"
"I'm the one who hired you."
An hour later, Pierce was crossing the MacArthur Causeway when traffic slowed to a stop as the drawbridge rose. He knew he'd be stuck for several minutes, suspended above Biscayne Bay. He shifted into neutral and pulled up the emergency brake. He lowered the back of his seat a notch and gazed out over the aquamarine bay. He saw in the distance the vague outline of the Rickenbacker Causeway, which he would take to reach Key Biscayne, where he was to meet Andrews.
His front pocket bulged from the roll of cash. Andrews hadn't asked about the money,
After a moment, he leaned against a palm tree, opened his camera bag. He kept his eye on the hotel as he fixed his zoom lens onto the camera body, then put it away. He lowered the bag to the ground and turned his full attention to the hotel. He didn't have to wait long. A couple of minutes later, he saw Monica retrace her steps across the lobby and leave. He wasn't surprised.
Her story didn't ring true to him. He'd realized it when she'd slipped up and said she knew that the Chinese restaurant he'd mentioned was in the Grove. The place had been in Little Havana for years, and had reopened in the Grove only a couple of months ago. He didn't have any idea why she would lie to him, but now he was curious. He wanted to know who she was.
She headed away from the beach, walking at a swift pace. Pierce trailed well behind her, walking on the opposite side of the street. It was still before midnight; plenty of cars and people were around to make it easy for him to remain inconspicuous. He had an idea where she would lead him, and he was right. When she neared the Jack of Clubs, she approached a white VW Cabriolet, unlocked the door, and slid behind the wheel.
Pierce hurried ahead another hundred feet, unlatching the strap on his camera bag as he ran. He ducked inside a doorway a half a block away from the car. Dropping down on one knee, he took out his camera and pulled out the zoom lens to its full extent.
As the car started and the lights came on, he focused on the license plate. He lowered the camera and watched the car pull away. He wouldn't have any trouble remembering what he'd read. Monica had a personalized license plate: MAYA-2.
Chapter 6
I n the dream, the crystal skull rested in the middle of a table. He was seated on one side of it, Monica on the other. She was dressed like a gypsy and stared intently into the skull, seeking to divine something. The jaws of the skull were moving, speaking. What it said was important, but Pierce couldn't quite hear, couldn't understand.
Suddenly Monica's hand and arm were sliding into the skull's mouth; it was devouring her. He grabbed her other arm and pulled. But the mouth kept swallowing her, and suddenly the jaws clamped onto his own hand and he was being dragged down after her.
The peal of the phone punctured the dream; the reality hissed out of it and he rolled over, blinking hard against the light. He patted the table until he found the receiver and answered in a gravelly voice.
"Good morning, Nicholas."
The voice was cheery and familiar, but Pierce couldn't place it.
"It's Ray Andrews. Hope I didn't wake you."
He cleared his throat, sat up. "Ray, hello. No, it's okay." He rubbed his face, trying to clear the sleep from his head. A vague memory of his dream, something about the crystal skull, jumbled together with the woman he'd met, tracked across his mind.
"You sure?"
He looked over at the clock on his bed stand, saw it was almost eight-thirty. "It's time I got up."
"How are you feeling? I read about what happened to you."
"I'm okay, Ray. Just a lump on the head. Appreciate your concern."
"I'm glad you're all right, because we need to get together as soon as possible."
Pierce cleared his throat again. "What's up?"
"I'm the one who hired you."
An hour later, Pierce was crossing the MacArthur Causeway when traffic slowed to a stop as the drawbridge rose. He knew he'd be stuck for several minutes, suspended above Biscayne Bay. He shifted into neutral and pulled up the emergency brake. He lowered the back of his seat a notch and gazed out over the aquamarine bay. He saw in the distance the vague outline of the Rickenbacker Causeway, which he would take to reach Key Biscayne, where he was to meet Andrews.
His front pocket bulged from the roll of cash. Andrews hadn't asked about the money,
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