Page 21 of Patron of Mercy

“Paget,” she answered, her voice surprisingly calm.

The line was a little hollow-toned, so she assumed it was an international call, but that was no surprise. She knew precious few people in Brazil. “Hey, Martina.” With that, the caller had her full attention.

Lach.

She’d known there was something special about him since she’d met him on one of her first dig sites, right out of college. Her mentor had introduced him as an authority on Greek artifacts without giving any indication of his credentials. Also, without a last name.

“Lach.” She leaned against the side of the building and let her shoulders slump. Knowing Lach, if she waited a few seconds, he’d cut to the chase.

“I’ve got a weird request,” he said after a moment, voice hesitant.

“Weirder than the time in Jakarta when you asked if I could get my hands on a live cobra and fourteen human-sized baskets?”

There was a long pause. “It was thirteen. And there was a rational explanation for that.”

She laughed. “There always is with you. So what do you need?”

“I need some help finding a site on Santorini,” he said. It was almost a whisper, like he wanted to keep it a secret from even himself. Her heart skipped a beat.

Santorini.

“Any site in particular?”

“Ha ha, funny lady.” He sighed. “Yeah. I’ve got a friend who’ll be able to help find what we’re looking for when we get there, but you’re familiar with the area, and I thought maybe you could help us narrow it down.”

“This a paying job?” she asked, checking her nails—broken to the quick as usual—in an exaggerated manner that wouldn’t even work in face-to-face negotiations. Not that she was expecting a negotiation. Lach never haggled. “I’m in Brazil right now. I’d need a plane ticket. Plus money for my time, of course.”

“Of course,” he agreed smoothly. “You’re done there?”

So very done. She sighed. “Technically not, but if I don’t get out of here, I’m going to end up on trial for murder. Jim Jackson is in charge of the dig.”

“Ouch. I know he’s always your favorite ’splainer.”

“I like Greece better anyway. First love and all that. I could get there in a couple weeks.” In truth she could be there in a few days, but she didn’t want to seem too enthusiastic. He had to think she was doing him a favor. Plus it would give her time to wriggle her way out of this dig without burning too many bridges.

“Perfect,” Lach said. “That’s perfect. I’ll wire you money in... Brazil, you said? And meet you in Greece in a few weeks.”

She gave him her information and they hung up, then she stood there leaning against the building for a long while. She wished she weren’t trying to quit smoking. A cigarette sounded amazing.

Finally, she took a deep breath and looked back at her phone, dialing the one number she would always know by heart.

“Paget,” was the answer, more clipped than she’d managed at her most angry.

“Lach called me, and he’s looking for something on Santorini.”

Her father’s laughter was dry and crackled over the line. “I knew your little degree would be useful eventually.”

He hadn’t known. He’d fought tooth and nail against her doing something as frivolous as going to college when she should be following in his footsteps like her younger brother, Roger. The family business was more important than a bunch of old bones, he’d told her again and again. It was the only time she’d ever questioned him, and she wasn’t going to change that by disagreeing with him now. “I’m meeting him there. Should I wait and call you if I find anything?”

He hesitated for a long time, and she knew he was running the options. Almost certainly, he didn’t want her to go, but Lach was a wild card. Most people could be counted on to act a certain way, but with Lach, you had to have dozens of backup plans, just in case.

A live cobra and thirteen baskets, for fuck’s sake.

“Assume you’ll meet him there,” her father said. He was abrupt as ever, but she was used to it. “If nothing else, I suppose you should be there with everyone else. With luck, the sons will be able to handle your little friend before you have to deal with him.”

She didn’t know how he meant and wasn’t sure she wanted to know. Instead, she agreed with him, hung up, and booked her plane tickets to Greece. A week was plenty of time to extricate herself from the dig and get out of Brazil, she decided.

Her father had all faith in the Fidelis Filii, led by her brother in all but name since father’s stroke the year before. After all, he’d founded the organization himself.

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