It was certainly doable, but Garin thought he knew an easier way.

He moved to the wardroom door and tried the handle. It was locked, as he’d expected. He stood and listened carefully for a moment, only to be rewarded with the sound of a low cough coming from the other side of the door. Garin nodded in satisfaction.

He reached out and began pounding on the door with his heavy fist.

“Hey!” he shouted. “I want to talk to your boss. Tell him it’s about the Order’s plans for the treasure.”

He kept it up for several minutes, pounding on the door and generally making as much noise as he could. He was all but certain his message was already on its way to Michaels’s ear. The guards might not know what he was talking about, but whatever he said was sure to be reported and his comment about the Order would definitely grab his captor’s attention.

Garin had just decided he’d made his point and sat back down on the small bunk when he heard the sound of the key in the lock. The door opened, revealing his escort. All four men were close to Garin’s height and build. That did little to faze him, however, for he knew sheer size often meant little in a fight against a skilled opponent. It was the firearms each of them carried that interested him more than anything else. If he could get hold of one of them at the right moment…

After sizing them up, Garin was confident he could take them if it became necessary. He filed that information away for later, in case an opportunity presented itself. For now, though, he intended to stick with his plan.

The thug in the lead held up a thick, law-enforcement-style zip tie and said, “Turn around.”

Garin complied, surreptitiously clenching and unclenching his fists several times in the process. He kept his hands clenched as they used the zip tie to secure his hands behind his back as well, the two actions momentarily filling the tissues of his wrists with blood and making them slightly larger than they normally were. It was a tactic he’d learned years before that kept the tie looser than his captors intended for it to be. He had no idea if he was going to need to get out of his bonds in a hurry, but felt it was better to be prepared just in case.

Once he was secured they led him out of the room, down the length of the hull and up two decks to a closed door at the end of the hall. The guard knocked, waited for a muffled reply from within and then led Garin inside.

Michaels was waiting for him in an elegantly appointed dining room, a large meal spread out on the table before him. The guards marched Garin halfway across the room, but refused to let him approach Michaels. Garin felt his stomach clench as the smell of the filet mignon on the plate hit him full force; it had been hours since he’d eaten. He knew the scene was intentional, just more of the mind games Michaels apparently liked to play, so Garin steeled his features and kept the hunger from showing on his face.

After a moment, Michaels looked up from his meal and waved impatiently for the guards to bring the prisoner forward.

“This had better be good,” Michaels said. “I’m a busy man and don’t appreciate those who waste my time.”

You’re a thug and a boor, Garin thought, but managed to refrain from saying so to the man’s face. It wasn’t so much the actions that Michaels took that troubled Garin—for, after all, he’d certainly done worse things himself. It was just the man’s innate lack of style or finesse that galled him to no end.

Time to take him down a notch or two.

“Your name is Blaine Michaels,” Garin began. “You’re the current head of an organization that stretches back to the sixteenth century. An organization known as the Order of the Golden Phoenix.”

Michaels stared at him for a moment and then slowly lowered his fork down to the plate in front of him.

“I believe you have me at a disadvantage,” Michaels said finally.

“I’m Garin Braden, of Dragontech Security.”

Michaels gave that a few moments of thought and Garin was happy to give him the time, knowing he’d eventually begin to put things together. Michaels wasn’t a fool and, if he was anything like the men who’d held his particular position before him, he’d be well versed on the various organizations that had clashed with his own during the course of his leadership. He was bound to have heard the name of Garin’s private security firm, both for its public activities and for those it was rumored to carry out in the shadows.

It was a reputation that Garin had carefully cultivated over the years and one designed to serve him well in situations just like this one.

“Indeed?” Michaels replied, the surprise evident on his face. “Why should I believe you?”

Garin laughed. “Do you honestly think I would claim to be someone I am not in this day and age? When a simple Google search can give you a photograph of most individuals over the age of fifteen?”

Michaels quickly glanced over Garin’s shoulder and he gave a subtle nod to the guard standing behind him. Garin tensed, waiting for the blow, but none came. Instead, the guard lifted his hands and cut the zip tie binding them. Another glance from Michaels sent the guard scurrying to produce a chair for Garin’s benefit.

When they were comfortably seated on opposite sides of the table, Michaels looked at him intently. “You said something about the treasure?”

Garin leaned back in his chair. “You know as well as I do that Annja Creed is not going to hand over even a single Mexican half-dollar to you.”

To his credit, Michaels didn’t react with anything more than a shrug. “That remains to be seen.”

“If you believe that, then you haven’t done your due diligence with regard to the woman you are dealing with. Trust me, Annja Creed would no more cooperate with a man she considers a cold-blooded murderer than she would wake up tomorrow and declare that the world was flat. Whatever she’s doing, you can rest assured that she’s planning a way to get back at you for what you’ve done.”

Michaels scoffed. “She’s one woman. I doubt she has the resources or the determination to stand up to the Order.”

You have no idea, Garin thought, recalling the number of times she’d foiled his own carefully laid plans.

“Are you willing to bet the treasure on that? Or would you rather take action now, while you still can, and ensure that the gold winds up in the proper hands?”

Michaels eyed him with a curious expression. “You have obviously given this some thought. I’m curious to hear what you have in mind.”

Garin smiled. “I thought you’d never ask….”

36

It was four hours after sunset.

Annja drove carefully down the narrow, weed-infested road until she could see the branch she’d stuck through the fence as a marker earlier that afternoon. She pulled over, parked and got out of the car as quickly and quietly as possible.

Opening the trunk, she removed a pickax and shovel, then closed the lid carefully so as not to attract any attention. She was still a few hundred yards on the other side of the woods from Cemetery Hill, but she knew she should be extracautious.

Getting caught grave robbing in a national cemetery was not something that would be easily explained or overlooked.

When her eyes had adjusted fully to the darkness, she stepped up to the fence and threw her pick and shovel over one at a time. They landed in the grass on the other side with soft thuds, barely audible above the sound of the light wind that was blowing.

She grabbed the fence with both hands and quickly scaled it.

She paused to look around, confirmed she was alone and then headed through the woods to the edge of the park. She stood in the trees for several long moments, watching the grassy field and the hill that rose up just beyond that. She was going to have to cross that open space and climb the hill in order to reach the grave. That would leave her exposed to view for several minutes. Her conversation with the park ranger had revealed that the park was patrolled, but not very regularly. If she could get amid the graves without being seen and keep the noise to a minimum, she had a chance of pulling this off.