Hot Ice

should be.”
    “I bet you’d’ve just raked in the merit badges, Douglas.”
    He grinned, enjoying the quiet, the tobacco, the coffee. He’d learned long ago to enjoy what he could when he could, and plan for more. Much more. “One way or the other,” he agreed. “How’s dinner?”
    She swiped through the rice with the fork again. “It’s coming.” As far as she could tell.
    He stared up at the ceiling, idly studying the formation of rock that had dripped down over centuries into long spears. He’d always been drawn to antiquity, to heritage, perhaps because he didn’t have much of one himself. He knew that it was part of the reason he was driving himself north, toward the jewels and the stories behind them. “Rice is better sautéed in butter, with mushrooms and a few slivers of almonds.”
    She felt her stomach groan. “Eat a banana,” she suggested and tossed him one. “Any idea how we’re going to replace our water?”
    “I think we might slip down to the village below in the morning.” He blew out a cloud of smoke. The only thing that was missing, he decided, was a nice hot tub and a pretty, scented blonde to scrub his back. It would be one of the first things he saw to when the treasure was in his hands.
    Whitney crossed her legs under her and chose another piece of fruit. “Do you think it’s safe?”
    He shrugged and finished off his coffee. It was always more a matter of need than safety. “We need water, and we might bargain for some meat.”
    “Please, you’ll get me excited.”
    “The way I figure it, Dimitri knew the train was going to Tamatave, so that’s where he’ll be looking for us. By the time we get there, I’m hoping he’s looking someplace else.”
    She bit into the fruit. “So he doesn’t have any idea where you’re ultimately going?”
    “No more than you do, sugar.” He hoped. But the itch between his shoulder blades had yet to let up. Taking a last deep drag, Doug flicked the stub of the cigarette into the fire. “As far as I know, he’s never seen the papers, at least not all of them.”
    “If he’s never seen them, how did he find out about the treasure?”
    “Faith, sugar, same as you.”
    She lifted a brow at his smirk. “This Dimitri doesn’t strike me as a man of faith.”
    “Instinct then. There was a man named Whitaker who figured to sell the papers to the highest bidder and make a nice profit without having to dig for it. The idea of a treasure, a documented one, caught Dimitri’s imagination. I told you he had one of those.”
    “Indeed. Whitaker…” Turning the name over in her mind, Whitney forgot to stir. “George Allan Whitaker?”
    “The same.” Doug blew out smoke. “Know him?”
    “Casually. I dated one of his nephews. It’s thought he made his money from bootlegging, among other things.”
    “Smuggling, among other things, especially in the last ten years or so. Remember the Geraldi sapphires that were stolen, let’s see, in seventy-six?”
    She frowned a minute. “No.”
    “You should keep up with current events, sugar. Read that book I lifted in D.C.”
    “Missing Gems Through the Ages?” Whitney moved her shoulders. “I prefer fiction when I read.”
    “Broaden your outlook. You can learn anything there is to learn from books.”
    “Really?” Interested, she studied him again. “So you like to read?”
    “Next to sex, it’s my favorite pastime. Anyway, the Geraldi sapphires. The sweetest set of rocks since the crown jewels.”
    Impressed, she lifted a brow. “You stole them?”
    “No.” He settled his shoulders against the wall. “I was on a downswing in seventy-six. Didn’t have the fare to get to Rome. But I’ve got connections. So did Whitaker.”
    “He stole them?” Her eyes widened as she thought of the skinny old man.
    “Arranged,” Doug corrected. “Once he hit sixty Whitaker didn’t like getting his hands dirty. He liked to pretend he was an expert in archeology. Didn’t you catch any of his shows on public television?”
    So he watched PBS too. A well-rounded thief. “No, but I heard he wanted to be a land-locked Jacques Cousteau.”
    “Not enough class. Still, he got pretty good ratings for a couple of years. Bullshitting a lot of hotshots with big bank accounts into financing digs. He had a real smooth game going.”
    “My father said he was full of shit,” Whitney said idly.
    “Your father’s got more on the ball than fudge ripple. Anyway, Whitaker played middleman for a lot