Donovans 01 - Amber Beach

reaching out to do just that when she realized why the shape seemed so familiar. Instantly she snatched back her fingers.
    “Go ahead,” Jake said, amused. “It won’t bite.”
    “Another fertility fetish?” she asked dryly.
    “Probably not. Amber has always been thought of as supernatural. In Baltic lore, an amber necklace was believed to choke anyone who spoke lies. Talismans were carved in various shapes to ward off sickness or accidents or ill wishes. An amber phallus like this one was believed to be the most powerful of all talismans, guarding its wearer against any evil sorcery.”
    “Must have been a patriarchal culture that dreamed that one up,” Honor said.
    “No doubt. Most cultures were.”
    “Only after women taught them how.”
    Jake smiled. “Hold this while I get something.”
    Before she could object, she was holding the palm-sized amber phallus. Once she got past the subject matter, she saw that the workmanship on the carving was both exquisite and accurate. The amber itself was warm to her fingertips. It wasn’t the first time she had noticed amber’s unique property of feeling warm to the touch, but it was the first time she had blushed over it.
    Yet even as she did, she couldn’t help thinking of ways to turn the ancient talisman into decorative art. A brooch, possibly. Or a pendant. Yes, a pendant on a handmade golden chain, with long, elegant vines curling around the phallus, cupping it in the rich warmth of beaten gold . . .
    “Rub it with this,” Jake said without looking up from his briefcase. “See if it will pick up a bit of tissue.”
    Still thinking of design possibilities, Honor took the cloth he held out to her and rubbed it briskly over the smooth part of the phallus.
    “That should do it,” he said. “Now the tissue.”
    She passed the blunt, smoothly rounded tip over a small piece of tissue. The paper lifted and clung to the amber like a hungry lover.
    “Lots of electricity,” she said, her tone carefully neutral.
    “Some plastics have that property,” he said as he fiddled with his lighter and a pressurized canister of butane. “May I use the needle?” he asked Resnikov.
    “If you must,” the Russian said dryly. “I admit that I find the prospect troubling.”
    “I’ll do it,” Honor said, looking at Jake with wide-eyed malice. “I’ll be really careful, just like it was still attached.”
    Jake shot her a sideways look as he heated the needle with the recharged lighter. When the steel was good and hot, he touched the rough end of the carving very delicately. After a few moments the scent of ancient resin and million-year-old sunshine curled sweetly into his nostrils.
    “Not plastic,” he said.
    He got out the jeweler’s loupe, turned on a flashlight, and examined the phallus in strong light.
    “Ambroid,” he said after a time. “You can just make out the flow lines and bubbles flattened by the pressure of the mold.”
    “Another fake?” Honor asked.
    “To some. To others, merely an ‘enhanced’ form of amber. In any case, the piece isn’t ancient. The technique for creating a big piece of amber out of little chips was discovered in the late nineteenth century.”
    Jake gave the piece back to Resnikov, who put it away. Honor watched rather wistfully as the carving appeared.
    “It would make a dynamite necklace,” she said. “Just think how safe I’d be.”
    “You already have an amber phallus,” Jake said. “Remember? You’re safe from the inside out.”
    She willed herself not to blush. “I haven’t put it to the hot needle test. It might be fake.”
    “Trust me. It’s real.”
    “That’s what they all say.”
    Snickering, Resnikov set out a shallow box on the table and took off the lid.
    Jake turned to the new item. Inside the box, pieces of amber interlocked to form an intricate, exquisite mosaic in the shape of a royal crest. Several pieces were missing.
    “Amber?” Honor asked.
    “Ask me in a few minutes,” Jake said. “Amuse her, Pete. Tell her about ginteras .”
    “It is an old Lithuanian word,” Resnikov said to Honor. “In general it means ‘defender’ or ‘protector,’ but it particularly refers to an amber talisman worn around the neck. Jake wears one in the shape of twined dragons. It is of Chinese making. The ancient Chinese believed amber to be the soul of a dead tiger.”
    Honor had a flash of memory—a translucent cinnamon-gold pendant lying against the black pelt on Jake’s chest. She had