The Other Crowd. Alex Archer
and left messages.”
“NewWorld being the overseeing company?”
“It’s a relatively new outfit. I think they’re getting their bearings. That’s why it was so easy for Neville to sneak in. And Slater treats me as if he has to tolerate my presence.”
“So officially you’re working for whom?”
“NewWorld.”
“So the digs are managed by two separate companies?”
“Far as I know. Haven’t a clue what Neville’s outfit is called.”
“That’s out of the ordinary. You know this Neville guy?”
“Frank Neville. Never met him, and don’t think I want to. I’m just here to do a job and report my findings. So long as Slater keeps his gun in the holster we’ll all be fine.”
“He was waving it around? He wasn’t wearing it just now.”
“Handed it to a buddy before we got in the scuffle. He was shooting coots. Idiot. It scared the women on my crew something fierce. This job doesn’t pay well, as you should know. It’s not worth the angst of having to endure a loose cannon.”
“It certainly isn’t. You have any theories on the disappearances beyond…well…?” Faeries.
“Nope. Haven’t had time to think about it much. I know that sounds callous. I’m losing crew and I don’t know how much longer before Slater scares them all off. Someone goes missing, or decides this work isn’t for them, and leaves without warning, I just gotta let it go.”
“You think any of the three wandered off because they didn’t like the work?”
“Possible.”
“What were the two men’s names?”
“Brian Ford, he was from Kansas. I’ve worked on a dig previously with him in Africa. He’s a curious sort, but easily distracted. If he hooked up with a looker one night in Cork, well, yes, he could have just wandered off without notice. The other guy is Richard something-or-other. Didn’t know him. He joined us the day the camps split and ended up on the enemy side, so I didn’t get to know him at all.”
“Did you ask around Ballybeag for Brian?”
“Annja, I said I’ve been busy.”
His lack of concern disturbed her. Had he reneged all responsibility for his crew when the sites had split? He didn’t seem like a man to do so. And could frustration be a reason for lack of interest? Doubtful.
If Wesley had something to do with the disappearances he would be less concerned than if he had not, she thought.
“I’ll want to poke about the other camp, as well.”
“I’d watch your back around Slater. He’s tough, coiled tight as a spring. He’s no bone kicker. Looks like some kind of corporate thug hired to keep the lessers in line, if you ask me. I don’t like him one bit.”
“So he was the one to physically ensure the camps split?”
“Yep, packed our tent and supplies up one night. Next morning we arrive over at the bog, only to find our stuff sitting over here. Thinks he’s going to get to the prize before we do and then he’ll hand it over to Neville.”
“What could the prize possibly be if the spear of Lugh has been ruled out?”
“Fungus.” Wesley chuckled and shook his head. “I don’t know, Annja. What I do know is that Slater charged in two weeks ago all generous and ‘let’s find the treasure,’ ensuring me I had the financing to hire a few more hands. But since he’s added the additional camp, he’s no longer providing for our side. I’ve had to scramble for funds to keep it going.”
“Why continue without the support?”
He turned a look on her that Annja knew she had given many a doubter over the years. She answered her own question before he could. “Because something could be there.”
“You never know what will turn up from the depths of history. And if someone wanted so desperately in on the other dig, then there must be something worth finding, eh?”
“Exactly.”
“What’s your focus, Annja? You spend any amount of time in the field when you’re not filming?”
“Whenever I get the chance. Medieval studies are my specialty, but I’d never pass up a chance to help on a dig. Can you use an extra hand?”
“Hell, yes. You won’t be too busy with the television show?”
“I won’t get in your way. Just want to dig about a bit, get my hands dirty. And yes, I’ll be filming segments. Okay, here’s the truth. My producer wants me to track faeries.”
“Seems to be the consensus on the disappearances.” Wesley shrugged. “Be difficult getting the other crowd on film.”
Could someone please be on her skeptical side? she thought. “I’m sure. But maybe I can help solve the disappearances. If someone is kidnapping people who are generous enough to volunteer their time for such grueling digs, I want to find out who that someone is.”
“I like you, Annja. You’re a flash of sunlight on this sorry camp. If it’s not the weather giving us headaches it’s Slater. You want me to show you around?”
“I’d love that—”
Shouting from across the way alerted Annja. Slater was stabbing a finger into Eric’s chest. Eric had wandered too close to the enemy line.
5
Daniel had wandered off somewhere. A sweep of the camp’s periphery did not reveal the eccentric plaid-clad Irishman. Wouldn’t a guide have explained the lay of the land to Eric? That he probably shouldn’t wander onto the other camp, which was headed by a pistol-packing director? On the other hand, Annja was already taking sides and she hadn’t begun to learn the real facts. It wasn’t like her to make off-the-cuff judgments.
She insinuated herself between Eric and Michael Slater, and asked Slater, “Now what? Your bloodthirst not satisfied yet?”
Slater stepped back and smirked a slimy grin. Wesley was right; he did look too polished to be an archaeologist. And a bit too much with the angry, tight neck muscles.
“You have no fear, do you,” he countered, “stepping in the middle of a confrontation like that?”
“I doubt it was a mutual confrontation. Are you okay, Eric?”
“No problem,” he said. He clutched the camera to his chest and didn’t look fine. His face was flushed as red as his hair.
“Don’t worry, he’s a trooper,” Slater said. “I was just blustering with him. Seems you’re the lady in charge, so I best direct my concerns toward you. No cameras on the grounds,” Slater barked. “You were not granted permission to film here.”
“Mr. Pierce already gave me approval,” Annja said. “Don’t tell me the two camps are like two separate countries. Do I need a visa to access your dig?”
Slapping a palm over the gun holster, not as a means to pull it on her but perhaps just a security reassurance, Slater shook his head.
“Does Frank Neville have say over Pierce’s camp?” she challenged.
Slater crossed his arms high across his chest. “How do you know Neville?”
“I don’t, but I’m learning more and more each minute. Like the camp was split right after Mr. Neville’s men showed up.” Aware Eric was filming over her shoulder, she raised a hand and blocked his view. “Take a break, Eric. This isn’t necessary for the show.”
“But it shows the volatile mood on the dig,” he protested. “A