Donovans 01 - Amber Beach

matter to a contest.”
    Jake fished around in the plastic until he pulled out a bubble-wrapped rectangle that was perhaps three feet long by four feet wide and less than a foot thick. With great care he slit the clear, broad tape that held the edges of the bubble wrap together.
    Golden fire shimmered up through the opening he made.
    “Throw the knife into the water!” Resnikov called.
    Jake looked up the slope. He couldn’t see the other man’s eyes, but the rifle looked steady and comfortable in his hands. His pale hair gleamed in the sunlight like another shade of amber. The rifle had no shiny surfaces to attract attention. It wasn’t an exhibition piece or a bit of modern military art. It was all business, and the business was killing.
    “I think there’s more plastic wrapping underneath the bubbles,” Jake said.
    “Then you will be required to use your teeth. The knife, Jacob. Now .”
    He tossed the knife into the water. It sank out of sight. Slowly he turned back to the box. For once in his life he wasn’t eager to see the amber that lay within its protective nest of air bubbles and plastic. Slowly he began peeling away plastic until nothing was left but amber itself.
    It was like unwrapping a piece of the sun.
    A hundred shades of gold burned beneath his hands. Even as Jake’s mind registered the extraordinary skill of the nameless artisans who had created the amber mosaic, a ripple of awe went down his arms. Hair stirred in primal reflex.
    Slowly he lifted the mosaic and tilted it first one way and then the other, sending light pouring over its surface. Embedded in the dazzling golden display was an elaborate capital R made of red amber. Above the R was the austere crown of the Romanovs, also in red amber-austere, but far from unassuming. The rich, rare amber announced the presence of one of the great royal families in human history.
    Great, and very dead. Power was a sword with no reliable grip and many lethal edges.
    “Is it genuine?” Resnikov called.
    “Real or fake, it’s damned extraordinary,” Jake said clearly, turning the panel, absorbing it into himself as though it were truly radiating warmth. “Sunlight and wealth and pride made tangible. A declaration of eternal power that only proves how transient power is. See my name and know how great I am . . . or was, because I’m dead as coffin nails now and so is my empire.”
    “Is it genuine?” the Russian demanded.
    “Hell, Pete, how would I know?”
    “Do not test my patience.”
    “Right now, I can’t test anything. My kit is back in my truck. Come down and have a look for yourself.” Please , Jake added silently. Get within my reach for just a second.
    Just one.
    “Are you in place?” Resnikov called out.
    “What—” began Jake. Then he stopped.
    The question hadn’t been for him. It was for the woman who was stepping out from cover less than twenty feet away, a machine pistol in her hands.
    Suddenly some things that hadn’t made sense, did. Unfortunately, it was too late.
    “Hello, Jones,” Jake said. “I was wondering how Resnikov was going to get down that slope without taking the rifle off us. Now I know. Did you slip a tracking device in Honor’s backpack while you were crying on her shoulder?”
    Marju smiled. “But of course. She is so like Kyle. So wonderfully naive.”
    Honor stared at Marju and wanted nothing more than to wrap her fingers around the woman’s elegant throat. The realization that she had led Kyle’s enemies right to him made her sick.
    “Naive, huh?” Jake said. “Well, it beats being what you are.”
    “What is that?”
    “Stupid. Naive can be educated. Stupid goes all the way to the bone.”
    “I am stupid? Who is holding the weapon? Who is not?”
    “Well . . .” Jake said, straightening.
    “Not to stand!” Resnikov called to Jake. “Not to take the hands from panel! Sit on ground, feet in front. Now!”
    Though Resnikov’s English got worse under pressure, there was no trouble getting his meaning. Jake sat.
    Under cover of the panel, he worked his feet free of the awkward flippers. Then he held the panel and waited for Marju to demonstrate her stupidity by getting too close to him. Without seeming to, he watched her intently while she picked her way past Kyle, just beyond the younger man’s reach.
    “Don’t do it, Kyle,” Jake said urgently. “Pete still has the rifle trained on Honor.”
    “I wasn’t planning to,” Kyle said. “I learned to recognize when