"Yo," the voice at the bike shop answered.
Professional, real professional, Sanford complained in his head.
"Tell Mutt to wash the grime off his hands and come to the phone," he replied instead.
There was a grunt, a clash, a clank, and then he heard - - faintly - - "Yo, Mutt. You're wanted on the phone. Some guy with a prissy accent."
Mutt knew who it had to be. His eyes rolled in simultaneous exasperation, just as his brother's did. The sources of frustration weren't quite the same…
"Dude," he sang out when he got to the phone.
"You got any money saved up?" Sanford asked without preamble.
"Yeah, some. Why?" That was a weird way to start a conversation, even for the youngest known Jones.
"You need a suit."
"I gotta suit. I still got the suit from Mom's wedding. That work?"
"You need a dark suit. You've got to fill in some gaps in your wardrobe."
"Why?" Mutt asked suspiciously.
"I've got an offer. A meeting. Tomorrow afternoon. Could use a wingman."
"You in trouble?" Mutt asked quietly, shifting as though turning his back on the other guys would make the conversation more private. "You need cash?"
Sanford laughed in his ear. The smug sonofabitch.
"No. And yes. More than you've got, greaser. You in or out?"
Mentally he shifted things in his head. "Yeah. I'm in. I'll meet you."
Sanford shook his head again. "I'll pick you up. Where we're going you don't show up on a bike."
"What the hell is this about?" Mutt asked when he slid into Sanford's car the next morning.
"Whatcha know about Atlantis?" the younger man asked.
Now there was a snort of derision from the elder of the two. "That everything about it is crap. It's a made-up legend, San," he started. "You can't believe in that stuff."
Sanford kept quiet, his eyes on the road as he merged onto the interstate.
"San! You don't believe in it, do you?"
Now the taller boy shifted a sardonic glance toward him. "Hell, no. But my benefactress does. And for her to fund my own expedition I'll put up with a whole heap of fairy tales and fantasy."
Mutt's face fell. "To pretend to search for something that doesn't exist? How does this help your rep?"
"I have an ulterior motive," the other man shrugged. "I'm not proud."
"What are you really looking for?"
"Christopher Columbus."
Now the elder brother laughed long and hard. "Christopher Columbus died old and crazy and safe in his bed in Italy, San. No conspiracy theories, no questions. You don't even like him. What is this about?"
San reached over the seat for his attaché case and dumped it in his brother's lap. "Just for the record, having an older brother is a pain in the ass."
Mutt dug through yellowed papers and hand-drawn copies of what looked like journal entries. Maps, directions, landmarks, instructions.
"Is this from Grandpa Jones?"
"Yep. Briefly he tangled with some Columbus crap on his quest for the grail. There's a theory that Columbus might have had a sideline going - - been after the grail, too."
"But you don't believe that?"
"Nope."
"So what gives?"
"So while I was cataloguing some of Granddad's papers I ran across the stuff he tossed out as junk. And some of it's good stuff, Mutt." A quick check and the car was headed toward the off-ramp. "Some of it's true junk, but some of it he just discredited because it wasn't what he was after."
"The grail."
"The grail," San agreed. "So I kept a lot of it. Have been going over a lot of it."
"And how does Atlantis fit in with the Grail & Christopher Columbus?"
"Some broad wants eternal youth. Eternal beauty. She thinks she's got a lead on Atlantis. I'm feeding that naiveté because what came to her and what came to me are remarkable similar."
"So where are we going?"
"South America."
"Hmmm."
"I like South America."
"I thought you'd only been there the one time."
Sanford shrugged. To be fair that was true. The only time either of them had been was the trip that had rocked their world. Literally.
Mutt was still getting used to the double life his father and brother lead. Teaching paid the bills - - barely - - and their positions in the college's anthropology department gave them entré to some pretty spectacular circles. His brother's car was put to shame by the grandeur of the building he pulled up in front of. Sanford hopped out, leaving the ignition running.
"I won't be real long today," he told the waiting bellhop. "Don't bury it."
Mutt jogged to catch up with him at the elevator. He'd gotten distracted by the pieces in the lobby…by the lobby itself.
"You have got to be shitting me," he hissed when they stepped on to the manned device and his brother ordered the attendant to the Penthouse.
"Hold your breath," Sanford advised him.
