Just a short break before be get back to theft, mayhem, and politically motivated murder. In the story, I mean.
Chapter 22: Pastime with Good Company
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Dinnertime.
I convince Patricia Renwick to send a tray up to the room. Supposedly because I need to rest up for tomorrow.
She's easily persuaded. After all, it's easier then finding a tux for Dick. And - let Dick say what he will - I am *not* letting him eat in the kitchen. No matter what we do at home.
Dinah and Jones join us - which probably improves the conivilality at both tables. And relieves Dear Miz Mona of deciding whether to accept two 'servants' at her table - or none. After all, if Dinah is as much my bodyguard as Dick? Apparently these people are not up in the latest fashions in snobbery. Bodyguards are like pearls - best worn next to skin. On the few occasions I had to tolerate Sasha, she sat closer then my date.
Simplicity actually improves the menu. Southern fried iguana, whipped sweet potatoes, jalapeno fritters, and a wonderful papaya and mango fruit salad with agave dressing. I give another thought to what it would take to move the cook over to Gotham. Alfred would never share the manor kitchen, but perhaps in the City apartment? Immigration shouldn't be a problem. I could honestly testify that *no one* in Gotham knows how to cook like this.
Dick is setting out the food while Dinah rounds up enough chairs. The table is hardly large enough to *seat* us all, but it will hold the dishes. After that? I suppose lizard is like chicken. Acceptable to eat with the fingers.
Dick grabs a ...drumstick, I suppose... and takes a huge bite. Its been a while since he had solid food, and fighting burns a lot of calories.
"Good?" Dinah asks.
"Tastes like snake," he answers, picking out another leg.
Dark meat, anyway. Probably very healthy, and low in fat. If I can't get the cook, perhaps I can at least get the recipe.
"Jones?" I ask, helping myself to a crispy breast. "You're my Aztec expert. Do you think this Muwan is right?"
Jones looks up from his plateful of fritters. "No reason to think he's not."
"That isn't what I asked." The batter is packed with chilies and salt. Spicy enough to have me reaching for the mango punch. I squeeze a bit of lime over the meat to cut the burn.
"From what he reported, I'd agree they *are* decorating the city for a sacrifice."
"The Jaguar sacrifice?" Dick prompts. "The one this Savage guy keeps talking about?"
"Perhaps. Littlejohn seems to think so, and he's not totally incompetent... on the occasions when he can see over his ego. My calculations would put them a few days early, but, with a solar calender? Did you know that at the time of the Gregorian reform in Europe, some of the major city were as much as two *years* out of alignment with the 'real' date?"
Dinah snatches a mango slice off of Jones' plate. "So Saturday here could be Friday there?"
"Or next week, or last month. The biggest problem in archaeology and anthropology is the desire to create a general rule and have it cover too much in terms of times and peoples. Given that even our best data is five hundred years out of date.. at least..."
I spear a fritter. The burn helps cut though my frustration. "Other then having this Tongue of the Jaguar, is there any other reason you could think of for holding a sacrifice?"
"Quite a lot of them. There is just so much that we don't know about the individual cities."
"Specifically what other reasons?"
"Births of heirs, marriages, important prisoners, abandoned hostages. Hell," He waves his fork on a gesture of inclusion, "maybe they just decided to clear out a few extra convicts. Aztec's aren't as snobbish as the Maya when it comes to who they deify."The last word is mumbled over a slice of mango. "Then there's the equinox itself. Even if there was no need for political reinforcement, I would logically expect..."
I cut off the lecture. "Any reason which would suggest we leave the dagger with the Aztecs... if they have it?"
"Other then the obvious reason?" Jones puts down his fork. "That we would all be a lot safer heading back to Santa Amoza and leaving the locals to sort out their own slaughters?
I nod. "Other then that."
He picks up his fork again. "Not that I can think of. But give me time."
That still leaves me with a lot of questions, but none that I want to cover in public.
Dinah moves the conversation on to lighter subjects - or at least subjects I don't have to listen to. Probably she's no more interested in Sumerian sculpture then I am, but she *is* interested in Jones, and while the bloom is fresh on the romance that apparently includes an interest in whatever nearly lethal 'adventure' he's planning next. Which is fine. The most that sponsoring that will cost me is a few months of her time while she and Jones go and dig up the back end of Iran. Oh, and maybe a hundred thou or so. That I can pull out of the Wayne Foundation, and probably would have anyway. It's the time I'll miss.
Jean-Paul is acceptable in terms of cover - but he lacks something when it comes to conversations. Sasha... makes me nervous. Even trained, she's not...trained. I make a note to check with Oracle as to whether Powerwoman has any free time in the next few months. She's not as friendly with Dick, but she's pretty, blonde, and as far as I know invulnerable. That last counts for quite a lot. She wont help as much as Dinah, should it actually come to a fight, but at least I wont have to be babysitting her.
Once we've finished off the last of the fruit, it's nearly full dark. Dinah is yawning and making 'go to bed' signals clear enough to reach Jones' libido though even a few millennia of funerary inscriptions. I assume that, being professional, she will also see that they get some sleep.
On the way out the door, Dinah pauses.
"Bruce? Are you sure you want to go in on either side? I mean ," she looks at Jones, weighing her words.. "Alone?"
I know what she means. And I have considered it. Both calling in support and just walking away. Either could be justified, but... "There's been blood enough. If we *can* quiet things down... it would be a good idea."
"So you're for Savage?"
"I'm for getting Savage the knife." I clarify. "After that?"
She smiles - a bit too broadly. She's been talking to Dick. Oh well, I suppose I can afford another revolution after all.
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By the time I finish my shower the other room is quiet. I assume they are sleeping. I should do as much, but it's been three days now since I have had any private time with Dick.
"How are you feeling?' I ask as he slips into my arms.
"You decide."
I run my hands down his back. Part of my mind is still checking for burn marks on his skin, but the rest is getting distracted because that skin is warm, and supple, and Dick. Exceedingly Dick.
With my reputation for exactitude, I should have some more specific term but... there it is. Dick is Dick. And *only* Dick is Dick. Precise enough, in it's way.
He wraps his legs around mine and rolls me over, landing lip to lip. Quite a stunt in this narrow bed. But then, Dick was always... athletic. And enthusiastic. And - from the feel of things - fully recovered. *Very* fully recovered.
He has me pinned *long* before I can force out the obligatory 'you should rest'. Not that I'm struggling that hard. And if he can do... ohh.. that... he can't be too exhausted.
Another flip and I'm on top of him with my shoulders resting on his knees. Never let it be said I can't take a hint. I plant a quick kiss on one calf as he locks his knees behind my neck. Impatient brat.
He's ready. Very ready. No wonder he left me to shower alone.
Before I can breath, he has me encircled. Captured. Claimed.
This is what I came here for. No. This is the reason I am here. Here in this City, here in Hidalgo, here on the earth. To be alive. To be with life. To be with Dick.
And if I have to swim with piranhas or wrestle a few crocodiles to get this? Dick is worth it.
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I *should* be relaxed. I am. Practically boneless. Unfortunately, my mind doesn't seem to want to go along with my body.
"Bruce?" Dick pulls back the pillow I have been strangling.
"I still don't like this."
Dick knows what I mean, so he rolls on to one elbow and asks. "Why? Think Savage is playing you?"
"No," I answer automatically. Too quickly, perhaps. Is he? NO. I understand Savage. But *something* is wrong. I feel it, and over the years I have learned to trust that part of my feelings. I sit up against the headboard. "It seems such a long shot." Not precise, but neither are my thoughts - yet. Dick may help. "Even if this Teplitzin does have the dagger now, it does not explain why we were harassed on the river."
"Bad luck?" Dick suggests. "Pirates thought we had it, he got it first?"
"Possible." Which it is. I've seen too much NOT to believe in coincidence... but.... "Jones told me that map you found was Inca. Why would they have an Inca map if they were looking for a Mayan city?"
"Are there any Incan cities?"
"Not that Savage mentioned."
Dick shrugs. I feel it against my shoulder. "Wont be the first time someone sold a phony 'treasure' map. Won't be the last. At least Drax didn't end up in Miami."
I snort. Dick and his humor. "Wrong city. Miami was the city of eternal youth."
"Not recently." He head-butts my shoulder. "Have you *seen* the old farts down there?"
"When were you ever in Miami?"
"Argent threw a party for Tempest's kid. Borrowed a private island from some friend of Jessie's mom. Most of the 'Justice' crew was there."
"How come I'm never invited to those?"
"Because you have have the Titans convinced the Bat would melt in direct sunlight?" Dick slides down, pulling up the blanket. "Next time I'll invite you. Better yet, I'll invite 'Bruce'. That should make Libby really excited."
"Please." I groan. "I'm much to old for her."
"Hell, I'm too old for her." The blanket shifts again, sliding away in Dick's direction. "But as long as you're not too old for me?" He punctuates that with a soft kiss just under my arm.
"Not as long as you do that, I wont be." I pull back my half of the blanket, and Dick with it. Not that the night is *that* cold, but? I tuck my end firmly under my back. With Dick restless, a loose blanket is soon a missing blanket. "Back to the topic... Assuming that this local 'guide' was selling Drax a bill of goods, why lead him deep into the jungle?"
"Easier to shake him off?" Dick gives the blanket one last pull, then surrenders. "Hell, maybe he thought that if he got them lost enough Drax would just give up and go home."
"Unlikely."
"So he was leading them into a trap." Dick slides one arm up, snagging his second pillow. My pillow. "Kidnapping is a big business down south. Maybe whoever was running the scam was thinking of moving the business north.
"Possible." And it is, but... "Where does burning the villages fit in?," I ask, snatching the pillow back. "And what is up with this Walker fellow?"
"Walker went overland, right?"
"Supposedly on horseback. Stupid idea in a jungle, but..."
"Could he have burned the villages?"
"Not unless he picked up some friends," I answer. "Walker was alone when he left San Dismas, and our witness said there were *several* raiders."
At least I think Walker was alone. He was alone at San Dismas, but he could have hired men at Pueblo Molino or one of the smaller villages. Perhaps I should call Martin Juarez back at the lumber plantation. Possibly even Arturo Gomez. Gomez must be back by now. Whatever the crisis that drew him away during our visit must be resolved by now, and he is too much of a local 'jefe' to leave Juarez in charge one minute longer then absolutely necessary. Almost like a medieval baron. *Nobody* crosses Gomez's turf or hires his men without his approval. I don't know the man well, but that much I do know.
"He could just be the inevitable innocent bystander?" Dick gives a quick roll. Fortunately I have one hand on the blanket, and the other on my pillow, so neither is lost.
"Possible, but..." I let the sentence die. "Dick? There is still a big piece missing from this puzzle. A *very* big piece. One that can stretch all the way from Santa Amoza to Pueblo Molino to here. I know it's out there. I just don't know it's name."
Dick gives a final turn, slipping his arm under my waist. "Let it go, Bruce. We can sic Oracle on them all in the morning... but for tonight?"
I stuff the pillow under my neck before Dick can confiscate it permanently. Dick's always been larcenious when it comes to pillows. Makes him rough to sleep with. Correction. Make that *wonderful* to sleep with - as long as I don't plan on getting any sleep. Which tonight we really should.
We have an early morning, so we *should* be getting some sleep. And we will. Soon.
END CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
cKKR2001
Chapter 22: Pastime with Good Company
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Dinnertime.
I convince Patricia Renwick to send a tray up to the room. Supposedly because I need to rest up for tomorrow.
She's easily persuaded. After all, it's easier then finding a tux for Dick. And - let Dick say what he will - I am *not* letting him eat in the kitchen. No matter what we do at home.
Dinah and Jones join us - which probably improves the conivilality at both tables. And relieves Dear Miz Mona of deciding whether to accept two 'servants' at her table - or none. After all, if Dinah is as much my bodyguard as Dick? Apparently these people are not up in the latest fashions in snobbery. Bodyguards are like pearls - best worn next to skin. On the few occasions I had to tolerate Sasha, she sat closer then my date.
Simplicity actually improves the menu. Southern fried iguana, whipped sweet potatoes, jalapeno fritters, and a wonderful papaya and mango fruit salad with agave dressing. I give another thought to what it would take to move the cook over to Gotham. Alfred would never share the manor kitchen, but perhaps in the City apartment? Immigration shouldn't be a problem. I could honestly testify that *no one* in Gotham knows how to cook like this.
Dick is setting out the food while Dinah rounds up enough chairs. The table is hardly large enough to *seat* us all, but it will hold the dishes. After that? I suppose lizard is like chicken. Acceptable to eat with the fingers.
Dick grabs a ...drumstick, I suppose... and takes a huge bite. Its been a while since he had solid food, and fighting burns a lot of calories.
"Good?" Dinah asks.
"Tastes like snake," he answers, picking out another leg.
Dark meat, anyway. Probably very healthy, and low in fat. If I can't get the cook, perhaps I can at least get the recipe.
"Jones?" I ask, helping myself to a crispy breast. "You're my Aztec expert. Do you think this Muwan is right?"
Jones looks up from his plateful of fritters. "No reason to think he's not."
"That isn't what I asked." The batter is packed with chilies and salt. Spicy enough to have me reaching for the mango punch. I squeeze a bit of lime over the meat to cut the burn.
"From what he reported, I'd agree they *are* decorating the city for a sacrifice."
"The Jaguar sacrifice?" Dick prompts. "The one this Savage guy keeps talking about?"
"Perhaps. Littlejohn seems to think so, and he's not totally incompetent... on the occasions when he can see over his ego. My calculations would put them a few days early, but, with a solar calender? Did you know that at the time of the Gregorian reform in Europe, some of the major city were as much as two *years* out of alignment with the 'real' date?"
Dinah snatches a mango slice off of Jones' plate. "So Saturday here could be Friday there?"
"Or next week, or last month. The biggest problem in archaeology and anthropology is the desire to create a general rule and have it cover too much in terms of times and peoples. Given that even our best data is five hundred years out of date.. at least..."
I spear a fritter. The burn helps cut though my frustration. "Other then having this Tongue of the Jaguar, is there any other reason you could think of for holding a sacrifice?"
"Quite a lot of them. There is just so much that we don't know about the individual cities."
"Specifically what other reasons?"
"Births of heirs, marriages, important prisoners, abandoned hostages. Hell," He waves his fork on a gesture of inclusion, "maybe they just decided to clear out a few extra convicts. Aztec's aren't as snobbish as the Maya when it comes to who they deify."The last word is mumbled over a slice of mango. "Then there's the equinox itself. Even if there was no need for political reinforcement, I would logically expect..."
I cut off the lecture. "Any reason which would suggest we leave the dagger with the Aztecs... if they have it?"
"Other then the obvious reason?" Jones puts down his fork. "That we would all be a lot safer heading back to Santa Amoza and leaving the locals to sort out their own slaughters?
I nod. "Other then that."
He picks up his fork again. "Not that I can think of. But give me time."
That still leaves me with a lot of questions, but none that I want to cover in public.
Dinah moves the conversation on to lighter subjects - or at least subjects I don't have to listen to. Probably she's no more interested in Sumerian sculpture then I am, but she *is* interested in Jones, and while the bloom is fresh on the romance that apparently includes an interest in whatever nearly lethal 'adventure' he's planning next. Which is fine. The most that sponsoring that will cost me is a few months of her time while she and Jones go and dig up the back end of Iran. Oh, and maybe a hundred thou or so. That I can pull out of the Wayne Foundation, and probably would have anyway. It's the time I'll miss.
Jean-Paul is acceptable in terms of cover - but he lacks something when it comes to conversations. Sasha... makes me nervous. Even trained, she's not...trained. I make a note to check with Oracle as to whether Powerwoman has any free time in the next few months. She's not as friendly with Dick, but she's pretty, blonde, and as far as I know invulnerable. That last counts for quite a lot. She wont help as much as Dinah, should it actually come to a fight, but at least I wont have to be babysitting her.
Once we've finished off the last of the fruit, it's nearly full dark. Dinah is yawning and making 'go to bed' signals clear enough to reach Jones' libido though even a few millennia of funerary inscriptions. I assume that, being professional, she will also see that they get some sleep.
On the way out the door, Dinah pauses.
"Bruce? Are you sure you want to go in on either side? I mean ," she looks at Jones, weighing her words.. "Alone?"
I know what she means. And I have considered it. Both calling in support and just walking away. Either could be justified, but... "There's been blood enough. If we *can* quiet things down... it would be a good idea."
"So you're for Savage?"
"I'm for getting Savage the knife." I clarify. "After that?"
She smiles - a bit too broadly. She's been talking to Dick. Oh well, I suppose I can afford another revolution after all.
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By the time I finish my shower the other room is quiet. I assume they are sleeping. I should do as much, but it's been three days now since I have had any private time with Dick.
"How are you feeling?' I ask as he slips into my arms.
"You decide."
I run my hands down his back. Part of my mind is still checking for burn marks on his skin, but the rest is getting distracted because that skin is warm, and supple, and Dick. Exceedingly Dick.
With my reputation for exactitude, I should have some more specific term but... there it is. Dick is Dick. And *only* Dick is Dick. Precise enough, in it's way.
He wraps his legs around mine and rolls me over, landing lip to lip. Quite a stunt in this narrow bed. But then, Dick was always... athletic. And enthusiastic. And - from the feel of things - fully recovered. *Very* fully recovered.
He has me pinned *long* before I can force out the obligatory 'you should rest'. Not that I'm struggling that hard. And if he can do... ohh.. that... he can't be too exhausted.
Another flip and I'm on top of him with my shoulders resting on his knees. Never let it be said I can't take a hint. I plant a quick kiss on one calf as he locks his knees behind my neck. Impatient brat.
He's ready. Very ready. No wonder he left me to shower alone.
Before I can breath, he has me encircled. Captured. Claimed.
This is what I came here for. No. This is the reason I am here. Here in this City, here in Hidalgo, here on the earth. To be alive. To be with life. To be with Dick.
And if I have to swim with piranhas or wrestle a few crocodiles to get this? Dick is worth it.
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I *should* be relaxed. I am. Practically boneless. Unfortunately, my mind doesn't seem to want to go along with my body.
"Bruce?" Dick pulls back the pillow I have been strangling.
"I still don't like this."
Dick knows what I mean, so he rolls on to one elbow and asks. "Why? Think Savage is playing you?"
"No," I answer automatically. Too quickly, perhaps. Is he? NO. I understand Savage. But *something* is wrong. I feel it, and over the years I have learned to trust that part of my feelings. I sit up against the headboard. "It seems such a long shot." Not precise, but neither are my thoughts - yet. Dick may help. "Even if this Teplitzin does have the dagger now, it does not explain why we were harassed on the river."
"Bad luck?" Dick suggests. "Pirates thought we had it, he got it first?"
"Possible." Which it is. I've seen too much NOT to believe in coincidence... but.... "Jones told me that map you found was Inca. Why would they have an Inca map if they were looking for a Mayan city?"
"Are there any Incan cities?"
"Not that Savage mentioned."
Dick shrugs. I feel it against my shoulder. "Wont be the first time someone sold a phony 'treasure' map. Won't be the last. At least Drax didn't end up in Miami."
I snort. Dick and his humor. "Wrong city. Miami was the city of eternal youth."
"Not recently." He head-butts my shoulder. "Have you *seen* the old farts down there?"
"When were you ever in Miami?"
"Argent threw a party for Tempest's kid. Borrowed a private island from some friend of Jessie's mom. Most of the 'Justice' crew was there."
"How come I'm never invited to those?"
"Because you have have the Titans convinced the Bat would melt in direct sunlight?" Dick slides down, pulling up the blanket. "Next time I'll invite you. Better yet, I'll invite 'Bruce'. That should make Libby really excited."
"Please." I groan. "I'm much to old for her."
"Hell, I'm too old for her." The blanket shifts again, sliding away in Dick's direction. "But as long as you're not too old for me?" He punctuates that with a soft kiss just under my arm.
"Not as long as you do that, I wont be." I pull back my half of the blanket, and Dick with it. Not that the night is *that* cold, but? I tuck my end firmly under my back. With Dick restless, a loose blanket is soon a missing blanket. "Back to the topic... Assuming that this local 'guide' was selling Drax a bill of goods, why lead him deep into the jungle?"
"Easier to shake him off?" Dick gives the blanket one last pull, then surrenders. "Hell, maybe he thought that if he got them lost enough Drax would just give up and go home."
"Unlikely."
"So he was leading them into a trap." Dick slides one arm up, snagging his second pillow. My pillow. "Kidnapping is a big business down south. Maybe whoever was running the scam was thinking of moving the business north.
"Possible." And it is, but... "Where does burning the villages fit in?," I ask, snatching the pillow back. "And what is up with this Walker fellow?"
"Walker went overland, right?"
"Supposedly on horseback. Stupid idea in a jungle, but..."
"Could he have burned the villages?"
"Not unless he picked up some friends," I answer. "Walker was alone when he left San Dismas, and our witness said there were *several* raiders."
At least I think Walker was alone. He was alone at San Dismas, but he could have hired men at Pueblo Molino or one of the smaller villages. Perhaps I should call Martin Juarez back at the lumber plantation. Possibly even Arturo Gomez. Gomez must be back by now. Whatever the crisis that drew him away during our visit must be resolved by now, and he is too much of a local 'jefe' to leave Juarez in charge one minute longer then absolutely necessary. Almost like a medieval baron. *Nobody* crosses Gomez's turf or hires his men without his approval. I don't know the man well, but that much I do know.
"He could just be the inevitable innocent bystander?" Dick gives a quick roll. Fortunately I have one hand on the blanket, and the other on my pillow, so neither is lost.
"Possible, but..." I let the sentence die. "Dick? There is still a big piece missing from this puzzle. A *very* big piece. One that can stretch all the way from Santa Amoza to Pueblo Molino to here. I know it's out there. I just don't know it's name."
Dick gives a final turn, slipping his arm under my waist. "Let it go, Bruce. We can sic Oracle on them all in the morning... but for tonight?"
I stuff the pillow under my neck before Dick can confiscate it permanently. Dick's always been larcenious when it comes to pillows. Makes him rough to sleep with. Correction. Make that *wonderful* to sleep with - as long as I don't plan on getting any sleep. Which tonight we really should.
We have an early morning, so we *should* be getting some sleep. And we will. Soon.
END CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
cKKR2001