Apparently: Chocolate is chocolate - or at least chocolat or chocolatl. But as I also got kakaw in Mayan. I'm going with kakaw. Mostly because is sounds weirder. I'm sure if I was there at the time there would be subtle differences in recipe, but they all read the same to me.
Chapter 16: In Savage Hands
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"DOC!" An exclamation from several voices at once.
"Ah." From the Bronze man, the sound is more a trill then a word. "Doctor Jones. How ... unexpected. I see you will have to be our guest for a while."
A bit of an edge there, and I'm turning towards the voice when....
"Yes, dear." A tall woman, fifty-something and well preserved. Five foot six, 140 pounds. Strong local feature with thick hair and perfect skin. Good body. Great legs. Intelligent eyes. The 'I'm your wife' smile that seems to stop most men in their tracks. Works here.
" Dr. Jones. Mr. Wayne." She sends the smile around impartially. "We'll be delighted to have you with us while you recover. Renny called and told us what happened. Dreadful pirates." Her voice takes the tone of a Gotham matron discussing the traffic problems. "I'm afraid we've been having a bit of trouble with that area lately. Just since the conquesta."
Savages face gives no hint of his opinion, but he clearly has gotten the hint. "Mr. Wayne." He holds out his hand, which I shake. "My wife, Mona Ixchel Kawil-Savage."
So this is Mona Fiero. Perhaps a player. Perhaps a front. We'll see. I shake her hand, Jones kisses it. Player. Littlejohn is still fuming, but the topic is tabled for now.
She accepts Jones' attention with the expected grace. "Charmed, Doctor Jones. Perhaps we could arrange a tour of the city later?" That's a promise that brightens his face. "We had best get back to the house if you want to rest and freshen up before dinner. I held it back since Renny told us you were coming." She waves over one the the hovering young women. "S'uuj, show our guests up to the house. I want to have a word with the young lady."
"Dick...?" Who I am not moving without.
Savage catches my meaning. He kneels down beside the busy young doctor, sharp eyes taking in the injuries. "Grayson, is it?"
"Richard John Grayson, sir " Dick turns to hold out his had, which the older man ignores in his concentration.
"Second degree." Savage gives rapid orders to Virginia Renwick. "Twelve hours hyperbaric, then a nu-skin dressing." That done, Savage turns back to me. "No infection yet, Mr. Wayne. Your man should be up and around after breakfast."
And that was that. I would have insisted on staying, but Dick indicated I should go with the program. At least for now. He had his transponder back, so we could find each other. Just in case. Dinah also got a trip to the clinic. That reassured me. Together, those two could handle anything.
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From the ground, this is even *more* obviously the high rent district. Only a short walk past the main pyramid, and we enter another courtyard with one long building wrapping around two sides, and a separate structure on the third. Large buildings. Palaces or offices - hard to differentiate. Stone. Three apparent stories. Square doorways with slanted tops. Lots of carving and too much polychrome paint. Vicious steps, but otherwise a reasonable architecture. If this is a private home, it makes my new place look like a studio apartment. A cramped studio at that.
Mrs. Fiero must have signaled, because a young lady appeared and cut me out from the crowd. "If you will follow me?"
Not a question. Once past the main door, we veer off from the others. I follow her down several hallways of angles and doors. Big place they have here. Frank Lloyd Wrong goes ethnic. New construction. The chisel marks are still visible on the stone. Not this week, but this century. Perhaps early this century, to judge from the gas lights, but not the 'untouched Maya" I expected them to sell me. Bad art. I'm no expert on MesoAmerica, but I've had a lifetime of 'art-as-wallpaper'. I recognize commission work when I see it.
After four turns and one unnecessarily steep staircase, we reach what is clearly a guest suite. My guide pulls back the curtain imitating a door and gestures me to enter.
"I hope this will prove comfortable."
Nice digs, if you enjoy the Olmec Moderne style. Geometric painted walls. Mission carved furniture. Bed, dresser, a window without bars. I stroll over for the view. Two story drop. Easy enough. This might not be a prison. A solid door would be nice, but I'm a light sleeper.
"If there is anything I can get you?"
"Richard Grayson?" I know he said to play along, but I will be far more comfortable once I know exactly where they have taken him.
She pauses a moment, puzzled, then - "Oh, the bodyguard. He's is the clinic, yes? K'usal will show you to there if you wish, but I'm sure the doctors will see your man is taken care of. Kin Kawil Savage told them too. So your servant should be fit by the time you are ready to leave. Even sooner. And you'll be quite safe inside the city." Which for her is apparently answer enough, since she does not wait on my response before heading back out.
That's that - for now. I check out the other door. Bathroom. Old fixtures, but effective. No shower, but a huge sunken tub. Swimming space for two. Hot and cold taps, no jets. Still, it has possibilities. Even without Dick. Which I am. For now. But after a day in the jungle clean is temptation enough.
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I emerge to find my gear unpacked. Very proper. Alfred would approve. Likely searched as well, but there's nothing in it definitive. Suspicious, yes, but these people have secrets enough of their own. Unlikely they will go to press on pure speculation. Of course, I have kept the most interesting toys on my person. Not that I don't trust my host, but...
I check through the drawers. Everything is here. What I brought on the chopper, and also what I left in the tunnel. That indicates Mayfair and Brooks have returned. Damn fast work if they got their prisoners into the hands of the local cops. Too fast. I think about that, than decide not to care. Not after what they did to Dick. I wouldn't feed the pirates to the snakes, but I won't be too outraged if someone else does. My belt is here, complete and in good order. Another indication that they aren't worried about a sudden departure. I decide to take it as a good sign.
Nothing more then I had in the jungle either. Another good sign. The River Queen is apparently undisturbed. Too early for the rescue crew to have reached the boat. I make a note to check with Oracle tonight anyway. Perhaps, under the circumstances, she could find a way to speed things up. I matters get nasty, I want my responsibilities in the clear.
I check the suit laid out on the bed. Somehow my hostess has managed to produce a dinner jacket that fits. Not Armanni, but not bad. I take that to mean that we are dressing for dinner.
I'm straightening the tie when a young man knocks on the door.
"Mr. Wayne. I'm K'usal. S'uuj asked me to show you to the dining room."
"Actually, I prefer you to show me the clinic."
"As you wish, but perhaps after dinner? The others will be waiting."
"Perhaps now." I insist.
K'usal doesn't waste time in debate. We head off at a fast pace through the expected maze of carved corridors. The usual painted ghastlies. Snakes and cats and twisted hats, plus a few other themes I would rather not contemplate as household decor. Can't say I care much for the local art, but it should make it easy to retrace my path if need be. Eight turns and we reach a curtained door. The clinic.
A man in a kilt and white lab jacket is making note on a clipboard as we step in.
"Dr. Tukun?" K'usal half-introduces the man before fading back into the hall.
"Mr. Wayne." I recognize the man from the landing pad. Which is where he must have learned my name as well. "Come for your lady? I was just about to release her. Captain and Mrs. Allnut we are keeping overnight, but they should be fine in the morning."
That's good news. Indicates the drug reaction can be controlled.
"And Richard Grayson?" I'll use the name Dick gave them until told otherwise.
"The young man with the burns? He's in hyperbaric. Dr. Virginia has his case, but I assume we will release him tomorrow. Although I wouldn't advise demanding any serious work out of him for at least three days - perhaps a week. Not that you'll need him here. Our city is very peaceful."
"Can I see him?" I ask.
"No reason why not." Dr. Tukun indicates one of the curtained archways leading to a back room. "I'll tell your lady you're here to take her to dinner, and you can step into the lab and have a word with your man while she dresses."
I ease though the curtain indicated. Another stone chamber, this one without the wall paint. Instead there was the metal and plastic ubiquitous to any modern hospital lab. Open ropes of cables,and along the far wall the black circumference of a man-sized pressure chamber. I find the small porthole and peer in at Dick's sleeping face. He looks comfortable. Should I wake him? No chance of speech, but a tap on the window would echo inside.
"Bruce?" Dinah is standing in the doorway. They have found her a dress as well. Something black and simple, and more then likely expensive. Probably this years fashion, although with women's clothes it is always hard to be sure, Today and half a century back have a habit of looking remarkable the same... until the credit card statement comes in. Whichever this is, it suits her well enough.
Dinah smile reassuringly. "I was with Dick when he went to sleep. He told me to tell you not to worry, and he'll see you in the morning."
I give her the look. Dick is unconscious in a strange place and I'm not supposed to worry?
"I gave Mrs. Captain a transponder, and she promises to keep an eye on Dick, and to call if *anything* looks suspicious. "
Which with a woman who makes me looks trusting means anything at all. I check over Dinah. She's looking alert. No remnants of her previous somnolence. Another good sign. I have our gear. If we had to, the two of us could evacuate even a sleeping Dick. Very well. While I'd really rather stay here, I give her my arm and we follow our guide onward to the dining room.
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Quite the assemblage there. Most of the men are in dinner suits, and all the women except Dinah are in feathers and jade. Must be the local fashion. It looks expensive and uncomfortable, which I've observed to be the primary requirement in such matters. The men are the same crew from out little jungle adventure. No sign of Mayfair or Brooks, but I'll withhold judgment. No sign of their boss either, which I'll take as a clue.
Jones is in the corner, shooting dagger glances at Littlejohn who is pointedly pretending the other archaeologist does not exist. Much to Jones concealed discomfort. They seem to have found Jones a dinner jacket as well, but this one is somehow less comfortable then his garb back at Castillo de Perlas. He cheers up visibly at the entrance of Dinah. She drops my arm and heads over to chat while I accept a glass from Mrs. Fiero.
Bitter chocolate. Alkali tinge. Mild, but clearly coca. So this is kakaw? Better to carry then drink.
We do the social round. Thomas Roberts is with a lady half his age that looks local. A daughter or a wife, and no polite way to ask about either. Renwick is with his daughter, who I remember from the landing, and a fifty-something European blond. Introduced as Patricia Renwick. His wife and Virginia Renwick's mother, I assume. Another impressive woman. Tall, blonde,built.
No real conversation. these people have known each other to long to actually talk anymore, and I am too new to have anything much to say. But we are all well bread enough to try or politise. Then Doctor Savage enters the room. Instant attention. It is good to be king.
"Bruce Anthony Wayne - of Gotham," he picks me put of the room. " I knew your father."
Relevant to nothing, as frankly I did not. Perhaps something to him. I say nothing, as he continues. "Thomas Wayne was one of my most promising students, before he allowed himself to be distracted by a girl and..."
"Clark. " A warning note. Patricia Renwick. She turns her smile on me. "My cousin was lost his own parents rather young, and I'm afraid he can be a bit - casual - about other peoples connections. I'm sure your mother is a lovely woman."
I get the impression the Savage is not used to being corrected, but it this instance he takes it. With much the same air of incredulity as a Great Dane being bossed by a Pekingese, but with compliance none the less. After a moment, he moves on to the other company and leaves the lady in possession of the field - or at least of me.
Cousin? That would explain her looks. And Renwick's connection. A clue worth having, and possible a source of information. I try out Dick's puppy-dog look.
"I regret neither of my parents are still living."
"How sad for you." Renwick says politely. " But you have your son. He must be a great comfort."
"Grayson is not my son, but ...yes, he has been a great comfort."
"Not your son?" Mona Savage blinks. "I thought Renny had said...?"
"Radio error." Savage smiles slightly at his wife. "This other chap is Grayson. His bodyguard and driver. Not his son."
"A bit more my companion." I correct mildly. "We've been together quite a few years. But I'd hardly think it proper to adopt him." Raising my cup to my lips, I add. "If nothing else, I'm not *nearly* old enough."
"Grayson?, but..." Patricia Renwick looks distracted for a moment. "Who's Who said you had a son named Jason?"
Damn. These people have done some research. Not nearly enough, evidently, but still.... I leave that for latter, and respond to the question asked. "Yes. Jason Peter Todd. But I .... lost him several years ago. He had gone on an adventure vacation in the middle east, and was caught in an explosion."
"Terrorism." Renwick shakes his head at the word. " We hoped we had taken care of that during the war, but some people...." He gestures his incomprehension at the evil of untamed humanity.
Patricia pats my hand. "My apologies, Mr. Wayne. I did not mean to bring up bad memories."
"And you did not." I give her my most charming smile. "Parents keep only good memories of their children." Which is bull, but my memories are no business of strangers.
"How true." Her smile reaches her eyes. When I remember Tommy and Virginia and the troubles they gave us. She shakes her head, more in fond amusement then in regret. "But we are so proud of them now. Virginia is engaged to Captain Muwan, and I do so look forward to grandchildren, and Tommy? He's at Harvard now. I do miss him, but he's doing so well. It's a wonderful thing to be proud of your children."
Seeing the pause in the conversation, Littlejohn steps up. "So what brings a sophisticate like you to our neck of the woods? Or should I say, how did you get suckered into another of Dr. Jones little 'expeditions'?"
"Would you believe it was my idea? A chance to 'get away from it all, as it were?"
"With him in the same room - I don't think so."
"Really" I give Dr. Littlejohn my best blank look. "Whatever do you have against Dr. Jones?"
"Other then his being a grave-robbing thief? And a plagiaristic opportunist?"
Patricia Renwick raises her hand apologetically. "Forgive Dr. Littlejohn's enthusiasm, Mr. Wayne, but you must have noted that Dr. Jones can be a dangerous companion. In this instance..... well, Renny was there. And the others. But I shudder to think what might have happened had they been delayed. No insult to your judgment in hiring Mr. Grayson, but one man is really no match for those pirates."
Littlejohn looks like heed like to add something to that, but at a sharp look from Patricia Renwick he subsides. "I do hope the Doctor didn't promise you over much. Not only because of us, but because you can't find whatever it is you're looking for. Despite the legend, the Jaguar Tongue does not have magic powers or healing or immortality, or whatever myth Jones tends to be hawking this week. The dagger is just a dagger. Tremendous historical and social significance, of course, but only for us. In the outside world? A few thousand in gold and jade. Perhaps a few million from some collector. Nothing worth what Dr. Jones can cost you."
"I can assure you, that was never mentioned." I raise both hands, protesting my innocence. "I never heard of this Jaguar thing before I came to Santa Amoza, and to tell the truth I'd have been happier not to have heard of it then."
Renwick gives me a black look for my flippancy, but his wife just narrows her lips. "I do believe you, but..."
"Please." I give her my most charming and least sincere smile. "I may collect a bit, but I prefer to go through Butterfield and Butterfield - not through snakes and alligators." After another tiny sip of kakaw, I add. "No offense, my dear lady, but to date this has *not* been the vacation of my dreams."
END CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Sorry for posting delay. FF is acting up a bit.
Chapter 16: In Savage Hands
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"DOC!" An exclamation from several voices at once.
"Ah." From the Bronze man, the sound is more a trill then a word. "Doctor Jones. How ... unexpected. I see you will have to be our guest for a while."
A bit of an edge there, and I'm turning towards the voice when....
"Yes, dear." A tall woman, fifty-something and well preserved. Five foot six, 140 pounds. Strong local feature with thick hair and perfect skin. Good body. Great legs. Intelligent eyes. The 'I'm your wife' smile that seems to stop most men in their tracks. Works here.
" Dr. Jones. Mr. Wayne." She sends the smile around impartially. "We'll be delighted to have you with us while you recover. Renny called and told us what happened. Dreadful pirates." Her voice takes the tone of a Gotham matron discussing the traffic problems. "I'm afraid we've been having a bit of trouble with that area lately. Just since the conquesta."
Savages face gives no hint of his opinion, but he clearly has gotten the hint. "Mr. Wayne." He holds out his hand, which I shake. "My wife, Mona Ixchel Kawil-Savage."
So this is Mona Fiero. Perhaps a player. Perhaps a front. We'll see. I shake her hand, Jones kisses it. Player. Littlejohn is still fuming, but the topic is tabled for now.
She accepts Jones' attention with the expected grace. "Charmed, Doctor Jones. Perhaps we could arrange a tour of the city later?" That's a promise that brightens his face. "We had best get back to the house if you want to rest and freshen up before dinner. I held it back since Renny told us you were coming." She waves over one the the hovering young women. "S'uuj, show our guests up to the house. I want to have a word with the young lady."
"Dick...?" Who I am not moving without.
Savage catches my meaning. He kneels down beside the busy young doctor, sharp eyes taking in the injuries. "Grayson, is it?"
"Richard John Grayson, sir " Dick turns to hold out his had, which the older man ignores in his concentration.
"Second degree." Savage gives rapid orders to Virginia Renwick. "Twelve hours hyperbaric, then a nu-skin dressing." That done, Savage turns back to me. "No infection yet, Mr. Wayne. Your man should be up and around after breakfast."
And that was that. I would have insisted on staying, but Dick indicated I should go with the program. At least for now. He had his transponder back, so we could find each other. Just in case. Dinah also got a trip to the clinic. That reassured me. Together, those two could handle anything.
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From the ground, this is even *more* obviously the high rent district. Only a short walk past the main pyramid, and we enter another courtyard with one long building wrapping around two sides, and a separate structure on the third. Large buildings. Palaces or offices - hard to differentiate. Stone. Three apparent stories. Square doorways with slanted tops. Lots of carving and too much polychrome paint. Vicious steps, but otherwise a reasonable architecture. If this is a private home, it makes my new place look like a studio apartment. A cramped studio at that.
Mrs. Fiero must have signaled, because a young lady appeared and cut me out from the crowd. "If you will follow me?"
Not a question. Once past the main door, we veer off from the others. I follow her down several hallways of angles and doors. Big place they have here. Frank Lloyd Wrong goes ethnic. New construction. The chisel marks are still visible on the stone. Not this week, but this century. Perhaps early this century, to judge from the gas lights, but not the 'untouched Maya" I expected them to sell me. Bad art. I'm no expert on MesoAmerica, but I've had a lifetime of 'art-as-wallpaper'. I recognize commission work when I see it.
After four turns and one unnecessarily steep staircase, we reach what is clearly a guest suite. My guide pulls back the curtain imitating a door and gestures me to enter.
"I hope this will prove comfortable."
Nice digs, if you enjoy the Olmec Moderne style. Geometric painted walls. Mission carved furniture. Bed, dresser, a window without bars. I stroll over for the view. Two story drop. Easy enough. This might not be a prison. A solid door would be nice, but I'm a light sleeper.
"If there is anything I can get you?"
"Richard Grayson?" I know he said to play along, but I will be far more comfortable once I know exactly where they have taken him.
She pauses a moment, puzzled, then - "Oh, the bodyguard. He's is the clinic, yes? K'usal will show you to there if you wish, but I'm sure the doctors will see your man is taken care of. Kin Kawil Savage told them too. So your servant should be fit by the time you are ready to leave. Even sooner. And you'll be quite safe inside the city." Which for her is apparently answer enough, since she does not wait on my response before heading back out.
That's that - for now. I check out the other door. Bathroom. Old fixtures, but effective. No shower, but a huge sunken tub. Swimming space for two. Hot and cold taps, no jets. Still, it has possibilities. Even without Dick. Which I am. For now. But after a day in the jungle clean is temptation enough.
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I emerge to find my gear unpacked. Very proper. Alfred would approve. Likely searched as well, but there's nothing in it definitive. Suspicious, yes, but these people have secrets enough of their own. Unlikely they will go to press on pure speculation. Of course, I have kept the most interesting toys on my person. Not that I don't trust my host, but...
I check through the drawers. Everything is here. What I brought on the chopper, and also what I left in the tunnel. That indicates Mayfair and Brooks have returned. Damn fast work if they got their prisoners into the hands of the local cops. Too fast. I think about that, than decide not to care. Not after what they did to Dick. I wouldn't feed the pirates to the snakes, but I won't be too outraged if someone else does. My belt is here, complete and in good order. Another indication that they aren't worried about a sudden departure. I decide to take it as a good sign.
Nothing more then I had in the jungle either. Another good sign. The River Queen is apparently undisturbed. Too early for the rescue crew to have reached the boat. I make a note to check with Oracle tonight anyway. Perhaps, under the circumstances, she could find a way to speed things up. I matters get nasty, I want my responsibilities in the clear.
I check the suit laid out on the bed. Somehow my hostess has managed to produce a dinner jacket that fits. Not Armanni, but not bad. I take that to mean that we are dressing for dinner.
I'm straightening the tie when a young man knocks on the door.
"Mr. Wayne. I'm K'usal. S'uuj asked me to show you to the dining room."
"Actually, I prefer you to show me the clinic."
"As you wish, but perhaps after dinner? The others will be waiting."
"Perhaps now." I insist.
K'usal doesn't waste time in debate. We head off at a fast pace through the expected maze of carved corridors. The usual painted ghastlies. Snakes and cats and twisted hats, plus a few other themes I would rather not contemplate as household decor. Can't say I care much for the local art, but it should make it easy to retrace my path if need be. Eight turns and we reach a curtained door. The clinic.
A man in a kilt and white lab jacket is making note on a clipboard as we step in.
"Dr. Tukun?" K'usal half-introduces the man before fading back into the hall.
"Mr. Wayne." I recognize the man from the landing pad. Which is where he must have learned my name as well. "Come for your lady? I was just about to release her. Captain and Mrs. Allnut we are keeping overnight, but they should be fine in the morning."
That's good news. Indicates the drug reaction can be controlled.
"And Richard Grayson?" I'll use the name Dick gave them until told otherwise.
"The young man with the burns? He's in hyperbaric. Dr. Virginia has his case, but I assume we will release him tomorrow. Although I wouldn't advise demanding any serious work out of him for at least three days - perhaps a week. Not that you'll need him here. Our city is very peaceful."
"Can I see him?" I ask.
"No reason why not." Dr. Tukun indicates one of the curtained archways leading to a back room. "I'll tell your lady you're here to take her to dinner, and you can step into the lab and have a word with your man while she dresses."
I ease though the curtain indicated. Another stone chamber, this one without the wall paint. Instead there was the metal and plastic ubiquitous to any modern hospital lab. Open ropes of cables,and along the far wall the black circumference of a man-sized pressure chamber. I find the small porthole and peer in at Dick's sleeping face. He looks comfortable. Should I wake him? No chance of speech, but a tap on the window would echo inside.
"Bruce?" Dinah is standing in the doorway. They have found her a dress as well. Something black and simple, and more then likely expensive. Probably this years fashion, although with women's clothes it is always hard to be sure, Today and half a century back have a habit of looking remarkable the same... until the credit card statement comes in. Whichever this is, it suits her well enough.
Dinah smile reassuringly. "I was with Dick when he went to sleep. He told me to tell you not to worry, and he'll see you in the morning."
I give her the look. Dick is unconscious in a strange place and I'm not supposed to worry?
"I gave Mrs. Captain a transponder, and she promises to keep an eye on Dick, and to call if *anything* looks suspicious. "
Which with a woman who makes me looks trusting means anything at all. I check over Dinah. She's looking alert. No remnants of her previous somnolence. Another good sign. I have our gear. If we had to, the two of us could evacuate even a sleeping Dick. Very well. While I'd really rather stay here, I give her my arm and we follow our guide onward to the dining room.
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Quite the assemblage there. Most of the men are in dinner suits, and all the women except Dinah are in feathers and jade. Must be the local fashion. It looks expensive and uncomfortable, which I've observed to be the primary requirement in such matters. The men are the same crew from out little jungle adventure. No sign of Mayfair or Brooks, but I'll withhold judgment. No sign of their boss either, which I'll take as a clue.
Jones is in the corner, shooting dagger glances at Littlejohn who is pointedly pretending the other archaeologist does not exist. Much to Jones concealed discomfort. They seem to have found Jones a dinner jacket as well, but this one is somehow less comfortable then his garb back at Castillo de Perlas. He cheers up visibly at the entrance of Dinah. She drops my arm and heads over to chat while I accept a glass from Mrs. Fiero.
Bitter chocolate. Alkali tinge. Mild, but clearly coca. So this is kakaw? Better to carry then drink.
We do the social round. Thomas Roberts is with a lady half his age that looks local. A daughter or a wife, and no polite way to ask about either. Renwick is with his daughter, who I remember from the landing, and a fifty-something European blond. Introduced as Patricia Renwick. His wife and Virginia Renwick's mother, I assume. Another impressive woman. Tall, blonde,built.
No real conversation. these people have known each other to long to actually talk anymore, and I am too new to have anything much to say. But we are all well bread enough to try or politise. Then Doctor Savage enters the room. Instant attention. It is good to be king.
"Bruce Anthony Wayne - of Gotham," he picks me put of the room. " I knew your father."
Relevant to nothing, as frankly I did not. Perhaps something to him. I say nothing, as he continues. "Thomas Wayne was one of my most promising students, before he allowed himself to be distracted by a girl and..."
"Clark. " A warning note. Patricia Renwick. She turns her smile on me. "My cousin was lost his own parents rather young, and I'm afraid he can be a bit - casual - about other peoples connections. I'm sure your mother is a lovely woman."
I get the impression the Savage is not used to being corrected, but it this instance he takes it. With much the same air of incredulity as a Great Dane being bossed by a Pekingese, but with compliance none the less. After a moment, he moves on to the other company and leaves the lady in possession of the field - or at least of me.
Cousin? That would explain her looks. And Renwick's connection. A clue worth having, and possible a source of information. I try out Dick's puppy-dog look.
"I regret neither of my parents are still living."
"How sad for you." Renwick says politely. " But you have your son. He must be a great comfort."
"Grayson is not my son, but ...yes, he has been a great comfort."
"Not your son?" Mona Savage blinks. "I thought Renny had said...?"
"Radio error." Savage smiles slightly at his wife. "This other chap is Grayson. His bodyguard and driver. Not his son."
"A bit more my companion." I correct mildly. "We've been together quite a few years. But I'd hardly think it proper to adopt him." Raising my cup to my lips, I add. "If nothing else, I'm not *nearly* old enough."
"Grayson?, but..." Patricia Renwick looks distracted for a moment. "Who's Who said you had a son named Jason?"
Damn. These people have done some research. Not nearly enough, evidently, but still.... I leave that for latter, and respond to the question asked. "Yes. Jason Peter Todd. But I .... lost him several years ago. He had gone on an adventure vacation in the middle east, and was caught in an explosion."
"Terrorism." Renwick shakes his head at the word. " We hoped we had taken care of that during the war, but some people...." He gestures his incomprehension at the evil of untamed humanity.
Patricia pats my hand. "My apologies, Mr. Wayne. I did not mean to bring up bad memories."
"And you did not." I give her my most charming smile. "Parents keep only good memories of their children." Which is bull, but my memories are no business of strangers.
"How true." Her smile reaches her eyes. When I remember Tommy and Virginia and the troubles they gave us. She shakes her head, more in fond amusement then in regret. "But we are so proud of them now. Virginia is engaged to Captain Muwan, and I do so look forward to grandchildren, and Tommy? He's at Harvard now. I do miss him, but he's doing so well. It's a wonderful thing to be proud of your children."
Seeing the pause in the conversation, Littlejohn steps up. "So what brings a sophisticate like you to our neck of the woods? Or should I say, how did you get suckered into another of Dr. Jones little 'expeditions'?"
"Would you believe it was my idea? A chance to 'get away from it all, as it were?"
"With him in the same room - I don't think so."
"Really" I give Dr. Littlejohn my best blank look. "Whatever do you have against Dr. Jones?"
"Other then his being a grave-robbing thief? And a plagiaristic opportunist?"
Patricia Renwick raises her hand apologetically. "Forgive Dr. Littlejohn's enthusiasm, Mr. Wayne, but you must have noted that Dr. Jones can be a dangerous companion. In this instance..... well, Renny was there. And the others. But I shudder to think what might have happened had they been delayed. No insult to your judgment in hiring Mr. Grayson, but one man is really no match for those pirates."
Littlejohn looks like heed like to add something to that, but at a sharp look from Patricia Renwick he subsides. "I do hope the Doctor didn't promise you over much. Not only because of us, but because you can't find whatever it is you're looking for. Despite the legend, the Jaguar Tongue does not have magic powers or healing or immortality, or whatever myth Jones tends to be hawking this week. The dagger is just a dagger. Tremendous historical and social significance, of course, but only for us. In the outside world? A few thousand in gold and jade. Perhaps a few million from some collector. Nothing worth what Dr. Jones can cost you."
"I can assure you, that was never mentioned." I raise both hands, protesting my innocence. "I never heard of this Jaguar thing before I came to Santa Amoza, and to tell the truth I'd have been happier not to have heard of it then."
Renwick gives me a black look for my flippancy, but his wife just narrows her lips. "I do believe you, but..."
"Please." I give her my most charming and least sincere smile. "I may collect a bit, but I prefer to go through Butterfield and Butterfield - not through snakes and alligators." After another tiny sip of kakaw, I add. "No offense, my dear lady, but to date this has *not* been the vacation of my dreams."
END CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Sorry for posting delay. FF is acting up a bit.