The Secret of the Stones by Ernest Dempsey (reading fiction .TXT) 📕

far as we know.” His tone was determined. “They left in a car, but we don’t have any idea what kind of car—the color, the tags, nothing.” Morris scanned the room, perhaps hoping there would be some sort of clue. “Let’s get back to the station. I want to know more about this guy.”

The two detectives started to walk out the garage door to their car when suddenly, the young officer whose face was down under the dash popped up. “Detective Morris?” His voice was mixed curiosity and excitement. “I found something.”

Will and Trent stopped and turned back. “What you got?” Morris walked back over to the car where the cop was now kneeling in the driver’s seat holding something in a white-gloved hand.

“Looks like a homing device, sir.”

“That’s not one of ours,” Trent said, inspecting the device. It was tiny, about the size of a nickel, and looked much like a small battery one might find in a watch.

Will had come over to look at the find as well. “I don’t think it’s the feds’ either.”

“No. And why would someone have put it there?” If Morris was confused before, he was completely baffled now. An archaeologist from the IAA along with a journalist from a local newspaper murder two nameless guys in a parking lot, run back to the house, get into a car that doesn’t exist, and leave behind a car with a homing beacon on it. The whole thing was weird.

Gears were turning in his mind. Finally, Trent broke the silence as the discovering officer and Will looked at him as if waiting for directions. “You guys finish up here. I am going to head back to the office.”

“What are you going to do?”  Will asked.

“Find out exactly who this Sean Wyatt is.”

8

Nevada

The old man was sitting quietly in the courtyard of his lavish estate. A servant brought a pot of fresh coffee to him along with a slice of tiramisu. He thanked the young man, who returned through the large oak double doors whence he came. After pouring the brown liquid into a gray tea cup and mixing in a dash of sugar and cream, he leaned back and savored the aroma.

It had been several hours since he had heard from Jens Ulrich, and that was disconcerting. Since the beginning of this operation, his operative had been in contact with him every day to provide progress updates. Perhaps he had chosen the wrong man for the job.

A light breeze moved across the courtyard. Two butterflies fluttered from a small bush and settled down on another. The sound of a bee buzzing around a flower nearby signaled the full onset of spring.

Setting the small cup down on the bistro table, he took a look at his Bulgari watch, annoyed. He wondered what was taking Ulrich so long.

Right on cue, the cell phone in his jacket pocket rang to life. Sitting up a little straighter, though no one was looking at him, he answered the phone. “I do not like being kept waiting.”

“Sorry for the inconvenience sir. I have been…” he paused, “busy.”

“It’s quite all right…it’s just that…” he wasn’t sure if the younger man on the other end of the line could tell his boss was not nearly as composed as other employers he’d had in the past. “It’s just that this is something that we need done quickly and quietly, and it makes me a little nervous when you don’t check in.”

“With all due respect, sir, I am paid very well for what I do. There are a great number of people all over the world that would gladly pay for my services, and they would have the common decency to expect that job get done without my having to check in every day.” His tone had become somewhat irritated. “You hired me to take care of this, and I will. Do I make myself clear?”

The bluntness of the younger man’s voice struck him as both cold and somewhat threatening. Indeed, he was of a reputation as one to not be angered. Still, some respect must be paid. “Why is Wyatt still alive?”

There was a pause on the other line. “How do you know he is?”

“Because I have not heard otherwise. The police are looking for him though. Are you trying to use that to your advantage?”

Maybe this old guy wasn’t so dumb after all. “I have changed plans, sir. He could prove useful to us after all.”

“I’m glad you consulted me about this,” the old man fought his anger then thinking for a moment, he said, “No, this is why I hired you. You think on your feet, and I know from your reputation that you have always been successful. Better that I not know what you are going to do with Wyatt. Just let me know when you have the map.”

“Thank you, sir. That is all I ask. The map will be in your possession soon, I assure you.”

The line went dead, and the old man slid the phone back into his pocket. He paused momentarily, looking up at the mountain that shadowed the mansion, deep in thought. “It better be,” he said finally and took a bite of his dessert.

Back in Atlanta, Ulrich set his phone down in the center console of the black Lexus IS 250. Its motor hummed quietly as he maneuvered through the back streets of Buckhead.

He turned to the man that had tried to ambush Wyatt at his house. The hired gun still clenched his jaw from the heavy blow of the shovel.

“It wasn’t my fault. I had no idea Wyatt would react so fast.” He could feel his boss’s eyes glaring at him,