Adaire Winfield (Season 1): Episodes 1-4 (Seal of Solomon) Read online

  I turned to face her, grinning at her hand on my arm, which she dropped the moment she saw my face. Again, she lowered her eyes. Which made me smile even more. Shy little thing. “I just wanted to compliment the manager on his fine wait staff.”

  “That’s his private office. No one is allowed. Please follow me.” She tried to walk away, but I stood there, arms folded.

  “No one is allowed to see the manager?” What a way to run a business.

  “Oh, you can see him in the other office, with an appointment.”

  “And he has two offices because…?”

  She pursed her lips a moment, then shook her head. “Ady-ji, please…”

  I walked over and put a hand on her shoulder. “Pihu, you can tell me.”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “One girl was already fired for walking in there. Some of the staff say he keeps his mother’s ashes … I don’t know. Please come away from here. I don’t want to lose my job—my family needs this.”

  I nodded. “Okay, Pihu. I’ll see you later, then.”

  I returned to my room and dialed up Crispin. It was probably early in the morning back in D.C., so I hoped I could wake him.

  “What is it, Winfield,” he said, his voice fogged with sleep. Score one for Adaire.

  “There’s something a bit suspicious going on here, but I really don’t think it has much to do with any relics. I mean, they got a bit freaked when I tried to see the manager, but no sign of magic. This is a waste of the Seal’s time.” And taxpayer money, but I didn’t give a shit about that. “Good food, though.”

  “Fine restaurants and resort hotels don’t spring up this fast in the middle of nowhere, Winfield. Not with no prior industry to support them. And yet everyone who goes there comes back raving. Everyone. If there’s even a chance—”

  “Yeah, it’s a damn fine restaurant, too.” With damn fine staff. Which at least made this somewhat worthwhile. “How do you want me to proceed?”

  Crispin sighed. I could almost see him rubbing sleep from his face. “Try the investor route. Make something up. You’re good at that. And make sure you take your damn meds. If there’s a relic, I don’t want your personal problems getting in the way.”

  Click.

  I smirked, then changed into a finer suit. Best get it over with then.

  Back downstairs, I sought out Pihu again. She was waiting on other customers, so I watched her work for a bit, until she seemed free.

  “I have to be honest with you, Pihu,” I said, not planning to do any such thing. “I might actually want to invest in the place, maybe even franchise. I’d like to meet the owner.”

  Her mouth worked a little, then she shook herself. “Okay, okay,” she said, as though it were all one word. “I’ll tell him.”

  A few hours later, an older Indian man came to my room. He had a nice suit, well-tailored, but the way he wore it was stiff, like he wasn’t quite used to such clothes. I rose and pressed my hands together. “Namaste.”

  “Namaste, Mr. Winfield. Myself, Mr. Kumar. Pihu said you want to talk about … my restaurant.”

  It took me a moment to process his stilted English and thick accent. “Perhaps. I need to know more about the business.”

  “Please,” he said, indicating the small table in the corner. “Drink chai?” He made a sipping motion with hand and mouth.

  “Yes, thank you.” I sat at the table, and Kumar called out into the hall. A moment later, a boy brought us a tray with chai tea.

  “Try, try,” Kumar said. “It’s good.” He patted my chest. “Good health.”

  I took a sip, but it was still too hot. Personally, I like my tea iced and sugary. But since that wasn’t what he was offering, this would do. “Mr. Kumar, your restaurant has excellent food. Can you tell me about your success?”

  “My youngest son, very good cook. He made this place from a small kitchen. Two years ago, my son a waiter—but very clever. Learns all the secrets, and starts his own restaurant. My oldest son is manager.”

  I nodded. “To what do you credit your sons’ spectacular success?”

  “Sorry?”

  “How did your sons build this place so quickly?”

  He beamed at me. “My son very clever. Blessed by the goddess. He go daily to the river to make prashad.”

  “What’s prashad?”

  Kumar cocked his head. “Like foods.”

  Foods? Lots of cultures used to propitiate their gods with food … Probably just a coincidence this place was so famous for its food.

  “Well, in that case, I’d like to meet him. Maybe we can open a branch of this place in Agra itself and make excellent money.”

  “Thik hai, thik hai.”

  “What?”

  He stood, smiling. “Yes. Morning time I come and we discuss.”

  We shook hands, and I rested until evening, then visited the restaurant for dinner. Hey the food was good. I made a point of requesting Pihu’s section. Because, well, you know …

  “Maybe you’d like to join me for chai later tonight,” I said after dinner.

  “Sorry. Better luck next time,” she said.

  I raised a finger and winked. “So you’re saying there will be a next time. In that case, I don’t want to disappoint you.”

  I retired to my room and flipped through the channels until I found HBO. Now this was a vacation. Shame I was spending the night alone, but I didn’t really expect any different. It was India, after all. Everything was very proper.

  Mr. Kumar did not come the next morning. By lunchtime, my stomach was growling and my patience ebbing. I went downstairs and straight to the door marked ‘Office.’ I knocked once, then stepped inside, but it wasn’t Mr. Kumar sitting at the desk. A younger man, perhaps in his late twenties sat there, looking up at me, without a smile.

  “Yes sir?”

  “I’m Adaire Winfield,” I said, and shut the door behind me. “I was supposed to have a meeting with Mr. Kumar this morning, and he never showed up.”

  “I am Raghav Kumar. You want to meet my father?”

  “This morning, yes.”

  He shrugged. “This is India. Different schedule style.”

  No shit. “This is important, Mr. Kumar. I was offering to invest a great deal of money in your business. I do not have time to waste.”

  At that, he sat up straighter. “Acha, acha, thik hai. Please wait in the restaurant. My father is just coming.”

  I sighed, but did as he said, grabbing a table near the hall. The moment I left, Raghav did as well, heading for the other door, in quite a hurry. Yeah, the ‘Manager’ door. I’m not sure what they kept in there, but I doubted it was a private office.

  With a glance around the restaurant to make sure no one saw me, I slipped down the hall after Raghav. The door led to what looked like a storeroom adjoining the kitchen. A private entrance to the kitchen? A staircase led underground.

  So, things were starting to seem a bit suspicious. The way Raghav was scurrying around like a Turkey on Thanksgiving … it was the kind of thing someone did when they were panicked. I still doubted there was anything like a relic involved, but this was just too weird to be normal.

  I followed Raghav down the stairs, but paused at the base. They opened into a large basement, where another young man sat cooking beside a large ceramic pot. He rose when Raghav entered.

  “Kya hu gaya?” the other man said.

  Raghav called him Veer, then said something about “papa,” seeming surprised, even concerned. They argued in Hindi for a few moments. Finally, Raghav started shouting, and tried to grab the pot.

  “Nahi!” Veer shouted, and all but tackled his brother. They landed on the basement’s stone floor with a thud.

  What the hell was going on here? I moved further back up the stairs, afraid they might see me from the floor. My shoe squeaked. I hate dress shoes.

  At that, I took off up the stairs. I did not want to find out what these Indian brothers would do if they caught me snooping around. Besides, wi
thout speaking Hindi, spying was an exercise in futility. I hurried out of the storeroom and back into the restaurant.

  As I passed, Pihu caught my eye. “Lunch, Ady-ji?”

  The thought paused me mid-step. “I…” Okay, so the food here was really good. Besides, Pihu might be the only one who could tell me what was going on. “Well, yes, I’d love some lunch.” I let her lead me to a table and sat down, trying not to drool too much.

  “What would you like today?”

  I pointed to something at random on the menu.

  “Thali? Okay. I’ll bring it—”

  “Actually, I’d really, really like it if we could talk for a few minutes after your shift. Can I buy you that chai? It’s next time, now.”

  She looked down again, starting to shake her head. “Okay, okay,” she said after a moment.

  I finished lunch, going over what I knew while I waited for her to get off work. The more I sat there, the stranger that fight downstairs seemed. I mean, why would Veer freak out when his brother reached for that pot? I’ve heard about chefs being crazy about their knives, but the look on Veer’s face wasn’t that kind of weird jealousy. It was fear. Genuine fear. Why would anyone be afraid of someone touching a pot?

  Because it was more than just a pot. I’m not sure how I knew it, but I did.

  Shit. One odd reaction, and I immediately believe a relic is involved? I was getting as bad as Crispin.

  Even so, it made sense.

  When Pihu arrived, she led me up to the restaurant on the roof. “Some of the staff like to break here, between shifts,” she said. We sat under an umbrella that kept off the worst of the heat. But it was still damn hot, and we were drinking hot tea. Whatever.

  We chatted for a few minutes, about the village and her life in Delhi. Couldn’t be too direct. “Look, Pihu, I like you a lot,” I said, after a while. “I’d like to spend more time with you. Maybe one night when you’re not working.”

  She smiled, not looking down for once. “Yes. You are very nice company.”

  Somehow, I think it might have been the nicest compliment I ever got. “I need to finish my work, though,” I said. “Mr. Kumar is missing. I followed Raghav and saw him arguing with Veer about it.”

  She scowled at my admission, but it was too late to change course, so I figured I might as well plow ahead.

  “I don’t know exactly what they were saying, but Veer is the younger brother, right? The one who started this place?”

  “Yes.”

  “And he had a fit when his brother tried to touch his pot.” Relics could be dangerous—they always had a nasty catch. If that pot really was a relic, anything was possible. “I’m worried something happened to Mr. Kumar.”

  She set down her tea. “What pot, Ady?”

  I sighed. And here was the hard part. Most people, if you told them, thought you were nuts. Put you on anti-psychotic meds. I doubted I really need those, but Crispin insisted I keep taking them. Since he was the one keeping me out of jail, I did it.

  “You remember that statue of Yamuna?” I said. “What if she was real?”

  She nodded. “Of course she’s real.”

  Well, okay. This might be easier than I thought. Perfectly educated young lady, still open to the supernatural. Maybe I’d like India. “I told you I was a college professor … Back then, I studied old times, old religions. There are lots of stories about relics of the gods …” At least, some called them gods. The Seal called them jinn—like genies. “Things they left behind.”

  “Sorry, I don’t really understand, Ady.” She spread her palms, and I couldn’t read her face.

  “Look … Kumar said Veer was blessed by the goddess. What if it’s true? It would explain why this place has such amazing food. But these things always come with a price, Pihu. Always. And I need to know the truth. These beings that pose as gods are more like jinn … I doubt they have our best interest at heart. I don’t think Veer has any idea what he’s messing with.” Raghav clearly had no idea, either. “And I don’t speak Hindi, so this is hard for me to solve on my own. Do you have any idea where Mr. Kumar might be?”

  She shook her head. “I have to go, Ady.” She rose and walked away.

  “No, wait, Pihu!”

  She hurried downstairs. I slapped the table, spilling the last of the chai. After a moment, I returned to my room and dialed Crispin. Actually, it was probably about the same time as yesterday, which was almost enough to make me smile.

  “Winfield,” he said, “do you know what time it is?”

  “Around two p.m., I think.”

  “And what time does that make it in the U.S.?”

  “Don’t care. I think there really might be a relic here after all. I’m not quite sure what it does, but I have a guess.” Still working out the price, though.

  “Then get it,” Crispin said, suddenly alert. “Whatever it takes, Winfield. I’ll be sending someone along to pick it up.” Click.

  Dammit. I was going to need a bit more time than that.

  When I came down for dinner, Pihu was not there. I asked for her section, and the host told me she didn’t show up for work after lunch. Yeah, maybe I had just scared her off with my crazy talk. But I doubted it.

  I stormed over to the office and threw open the door. Veer and Raghav were both in there, still arguing in Hindi.

  “Where’s Pihu? Where is your father?”

  They spoke briefly, in Hindi, then Veer approached me. “Mr. Winfield?”

  “Where is she? What have you done?”

  Veer flinched, and dropped the hand he had started to offer me. “Nothing. I haven’t done—”

  “Don’t screw with me, kid.” God, he couldn’t have been more than twenty-two. “Two people are missing, and investigators are going to be here asking all kinds of questions very soon. You’ve got one chance to get this mess cleaned up before that happens. Now tell me everything.”

  Raghav nodded at Veer, who waved for me to follow him. They led me back down into the basement.

  “So where did you get the magic cauldron?” I demanded.

  Veer started. “How did you—”

  “Because this is what I do, Veer. We’re wasting time. Where are our missing people?”

  “I-if they tried to touch the pot … She said not to let anyone else touch it …”

  I sighed. Pretty much what I was afraid of. “Start from the beginning.”

  Veer nodded, swallowing. “We were waiters at another restaurant. We lost our jobs. Our boss thought we were too honest, we wouldn’t scam. So I went down to the river, every day. I made offerings to the goddess. And I cried over having no food for our family. One day a woman walks up out the water, and asks me what happened.

  “I tell her, and she gives me this pot. She says, I can cook whatever I want from this, and it will never be empty. But I can’t tell anyone, and no one else can touch it. If someone does, something bad will happen.”

  Shit. Pihu must have tried to investigate herself, after what I told her a few hours before. I scowled. “Continue.”

  “I started a small shop, first. I could feed us, and the neighbors, make a little money. But the food it made was so good, and cost us so little … I realized I could have a real business. I made more and more food, and my brother, he managed the business.”

  I looked at Rahgev, who shrugged. “He said don’t ask questions. Why would I ask? He was making us rich.”

  “Please,” Veer said. “Find my father. He always took care of me. He got me an education, even when we were so poor.”

  And now we know the price. Dumb kid. “Take me to where you met this goddess.” I was probably going to regret this, but if what he said was true, I couldn’t take the cauldron to Crispin anyway.

  Veer led me and Raghav to the banks of the Yamuna River. By the time we got there, the sun was setting. It was beautiful at night, vibrant and alive. And damn creepy, considering something inhuman apparently lived in those waters.

  For a time, Veer called
out in Hindi, and I waited. After an hour or so, a woman at last walked onto the shore. Water streamed from her long black hair. She looked Indian, decked in only a simple wrap around her.

  “You should not have brought strangers,” she said in English.

  “Please, give back my father,” Veer said.

  “And Pihu!” I added. “He’ll return the cauldron.”

  She laughed, a sound like hollow bells chiming. “I have no interest in the relic. The violators have become my little fish, a part of my endless school.”

  Fish? “Wait, fish as in,” I said, flopping my arms around, “fish, fish?”

  She sneered at me. Seriously sneered.

  “Please! I’m sorry,” Veer said. “Please, give back papa!”

  Her smile revealed teeth too white, too perfect. “I’ll break the spell, if you take their place, young soul. Surrender your future into my hands, and they can have theirs back.”

  Raghav choked, gasping, but Veer just nodded. “Okay.” He took a step toward the river.

  Well shit. The easy thing would be to let him just do it. The spell would be broken, and all the problems would be solved. Maybe I could even take the pot back with me. But the dumb kid didn’t deserve to spend his life as a fish. I grabbed him. “Stop.”

  “You stay out of this!” the woman said. Her face had become a visage of pain and fear, her eyes black as midnight. “You helped break one relic already. Interfere here, and I’ll have another prize in my school.”

  Veer struggled in my arms, almost throwing me off. He was strong.

  “Raghav, help me before your brother does something stupid.” Like I was doing.

  At that the elder brother leapt into motion, helping me pull Veer away from the river.

  “I’ll be waiting!” the woman said, almost snarling, before she walked back into the waters.

  Raghav and I dragged Veer back to the car. When we returned to Rajpura and back to the restaurant, he spoke at last. “This is my fault. You should have let me go.” His eyes never left the cauldron.

  “I already lost papa,” Raghav said. “I can’t lose you also.”

  “You can’t stop me forever,” Veer said. They set to arguing in Hindi, so I tuned them out.

  She knew I’d had the Rota Fortunae. What, was there a goddess hotline where they shared information on blasphemous mortals? Was my picture on an immortal dartboard somewhere? Yeah, that’d suck. And apparently she blamed me for breaking that relic, though I never wanted that. If she cared at all, it must cost them something to make the relics. They must not be so easy to replace.