The Testament of James (Case Files of Matthew Hunter and Chantal Stevens) by Vin Suprynowicz Read Free Book Online Page A

This was obvious.
    “But this book is different. You must be careful even in naming this book, because those who most want this book want not to possess it, but to destroy it. This makes those who seek the book more dangerous, more unpredictable. You know the book of which I speak?”
    “We do,” said Chantal.
    Hakim nodded. She had not named the book. Good. “My brother Rashid is no fool. He merely asked in a few places what such a book might be worth. He was advised not even to mention the name of this book. But by then it was too late. Strange things began to happen. We were not contacted directly. Rather it was like a whisper carried on the wind, warning us that powerful forces wanted this book. The first to arrive was not a buyer, but an assassin.”
    “He failed,” Matthew noted.
    “Of course,” said Hakim, his hand dropping briefly to the comforting firmness of the scabbard hidden beneath his loosely billowing shirt. “But such things can draw attention. We decided to get the book out of the country.”
    “You called me.”
    “If we’ve brought trouble on your house, my friend, you will let us know how to make amends. We are at your service. But your associate was interested. He spoke of a buyer, he even offered to pay Rashid’s airfare. We would have preferred to speak with you, directly, of course, but . . .” The man with the hawk beak and the large mustache spread his hands, palms up.
    “What’s done is done” Matthew said. “I’m glad you came to me. Sooner might have been better, since now other forces are in play. But I understand Rashid’s thinking. I do not have this book, but the black priests are still looking for it, as well, so all is not lost. The most important thing is to find Rashid. Your brother is more important than any book, even this book. If you will look for your brother, we will look for the book. Somewhere, our trails will cross.”
    When the al-Adar brothers took their leave they’d agreed to spend the next day trying to track down Rashid’s cell phone and his missing rental car.
    “Matthew?” Matthew was just finishing nailing a piece of scrap wood across the broken pane of glass where the burglars had made their entry.
    “Yes, babe?”
    “A little while ago, did you say, ‘Identify yourselves, you motherfuckers’?”
    “Did I?”
    “You did.”
    “Was that wrong?”
    “It was excellent. I didn’t know you had it in you.”
    “I’ve been watching too much TV, probably.”
    “You watch hardly any TV.”
    “I must have heard a policeman yell that, once. It seemed appropriate.”
    “Were we just rescued by a couple of Islamic terrorists?”
    “No no. Who actually got rescued is another question, though I’m sure Hakim meant well. But Rashid’s family aren’t terrorists. They’re capitalists.”
    “Oh. I guess that’s all right, then.” Chantal had come down off the adrenalin rush enough to start finding the whole thing a bit ridiculous.
    “It’s fine. Makes sense the family would send someone if Rashid has been out of touch since last Thursday.”
    “I think I’d better not leave you alone tonight.”
    “I’m glad to hear it. You can have the big bed; I’ll sleep in the front bedroom.”
    “Matthew, don’t be an idiot.”
    “Hm?”
    “No one is sleeping in the front bedroom.”
    “No?”
    “No.”
    “OK.”

P ART T WO

C HAPTER T HREE
WEDNESDAY MORNING
    Chantal was becatted by the lovely Serafina, so Matthew gave the larger brunette a kiss and carried his mug of hot tea down the stairs to the shop. Marian had already opened up and there were a few early customers in; the general rule was that if there were two staff members washed up and straight enough to work, no would-be customer was left pressing his or her nose to a locked front door.
    “Skeezix has done well today,” Marian smiled in greeting. She was wearing a fetching hand-crocheted wool cap to go with her gray sweater and skirt — gray on gray. Bob had joked more than once