The Death Relic

16

Maria looked to Jones for confirmation. He nodded and tried to assure her that everything would be all right, but she cut him off in the middle of his speech.

‘Who would want to scare me?’ she demanded.

Jones shrugged. ‘You would know better than us.’

She glanced at Payne, looking for answers. ‘This is my first time here. Why would someone want to scare me?’

‘I don’t know, but I get the feeling it worked.’

The comment pissed her off. ‘You’re right! I got scared and locked myself in my room. Sorry for being human. Unlike you, most of us haven’t been trained to kill.’

Payne paused, unsure where her anger was coming from. He assumed it was a combination of fear, anxiety and lack of sleep — as a former soldier, he knew how volatile that mix could be, yet he sensed something else was bubbling under the surface. Was it guilt over Hamilton’s disappearance? Or embarrassment about calling them for help? Whatever the reason, he knew his comment had served as the catalyst to her outburst.

‘Sorry, Maria, I didn’t mean it as an insult. I honestly didn’t. I simply meant that if they were trying to scare you, they did a damn good job.’

She took a deep breath and backed away. ‘I’m sorry, too.’

‘There’s no need to apologize.’

‘Actually, there is. You came all this way to help, and I just yelled at you over nothing. I shouldn’t have done that.’

‘Don’t worry about it. I’ve been trained to ignore emotions.’

She smiled but said nothing.

Jones cleared his throat to break the tension. ‘Let’s get back to the original topic. Who would want to scare you?’

She gave it some thought. ‘Someone who doesn’t want me to work for Hamilton, I guess. But I don’t know who that would be. Maybe a rival or something.’

‘Does he have one?’ Payne wondered.

‘Not that I know of, but I can make some calls and ask around.’

Jones nodded. ‘That’s a good place to start. We can also do some digging on the Internet. See if anything pops up. Who knows what we might find?’

Maria looked at him. ‘Do you still have connections with the government?’

‘What kind are you referring to?’

‘Police.’

Jones nodded. As a licensed private detective, he had many friends in the law-enforcement community. ‘Why?’

‘Can you run a criminal background check on Hamilton?’

‘Of course I can. But why? What are you thinking?’

‘I just want to make sure he isn’t a bad guy.’

‘Why would you think that?’ Payne asked.

‘I don’t. I mean, I didn’t …’

‘Until?’

‘Until I opened his case. Now I’m not so sure.’

Payne and Jones glanced at the briefcase. It was sitting on the counter on the other side of the suite. They had completely forgotten about it until that moment. As Maria walked towards it, they followed close behind, all the while wondering what she could have found that had put doubt in her mind. Payne found it pretty ironic that Maria didn’t think Hamilton was a bad guy until she picked the lock on his briefcase, but decided to save his comment for another time, when she was in a better mood and his chest had fully healed from her claw marks.

Maria continued her explanation. ‘I was hoping there would be a map of the dig site, or maybe some information about my role in things. Instead, I found this.’

She opened the briefcase so they could see inside.

Tucked in a hand-stitched leather holster was a .38 Smith & Wesson single-action revolver. Made from bright nickel, it had a spur trigger, a flat-sided hammer and an eight-inch barrel that would have looked at home in a cowboy movie. A gold eagle was engraved on both sides of the revolver, between the cylinder and the top of the pearl grips. The engravings continued down the barrel, an intricate pattern of swirls and flourishes that were commonplace on Mexican revolvers.

Jones started to salivate as soon as he saw it. He carefully removed it from its holster and held it up to the light to admire the craftsmanship. From the weight alone, he knew the revolver was fully loaded. With a practised hand, he tilted out the cylinder, dumped the bullets into his opposite palm, then clicked the cylinder back in place. ‘If Hamilton is dead, I call dibs.’

Maria smacked his arm. ‘I can’t believe you just said that.’

‘Sorry. But it’s a really nice revolver.’

Payne admired it as well. ‘See the eagle on the side?’

She looked closer. ‘It’s clutching something in its beak … Is that a snake?’

Payne nodded. ‘That symbol is the Mexican Coat of Arms. Not the current version, but one from the Forties. If I had to guess, I’d say the revolver is from that era.’

‘In other words, it’s a collectable.’

‘A collectable that can kill.’

Jones grunted his displeasure. ‘That being said, it’s not the most efficient gun in the world. This is a single-action revolver, meaning you have to cock the hammer with your thumb after every shot. The movement of the hammer spins the cylinder, which moves the next round into place. Compared to a modern Glock or SIG Sauer, this is a relic from another time.’

Payne argued his point. ‘But it’s still a gun, right?’

‘Yes.’

‘And it was loaded?’

‘You know it was.’

‘Then Hamilton was prepared to use it.’

‘I completely agree. Now all we have to do is figure out when the next stagecoach is coming to town and we can go down there and stop the robbery,’ cracked Jones.

‘I’m serious.’

‘I’m serious, too. This isn’t an offensive weapon.’

She looked at him. ‘What do you mean by that?’

Jones paused in thought. ‘Are you familiar with the expression, “Don’t bring a knife to a gunfight”? Well, I wouldn’t bring this weapon, either. It’s way too slow and inefficient. A gun like this was designed for appearance and little else. Do you know what they call a revolver like this in Texas?’

‘I have no idea.’

‘A barbecue gun. Do you know why?’

She shook her head.

‘Because it’s the kind of gun you’d wear to a family barbecue. You’d strap it to your hip in a fancy holster like this one, and all your buddies would admire it.’

She looked to Payne for clarification. ‘People wear guns to family barbecues in America?’

‘Not in America, but they do in Texas.’

‘Really?’

Payne kept a straight face. ‘When kids play Cowboys and Indians in the great state of Texas, they use real guns. And real Indians.’

She cracked a smile. ‘That’s so wrong.’

‘Sorry. I meant Native Americans.’

‘Anyway,’ Jones concluded, ‘I don’t think Hamilton had this revolver to rob a bank or do anything illegal. I think he had it with him for self-defence.’

‘Why do you say that?’ she asked.

He aimed the revolver at the plasma TV and cocked the hammer. ‘This sucker might be slow, but people are going to think twice if you whip it out.’

‘OK,’ she admitted. ‘Self-defence sounds plausible. But why? Why did he think it was necessary?’

Jones pulled the trigger and the hammer slammed shut. The metallic clack echoed around the trashed suite. ‘That’s what we need to find out.’