The House of Long Ago by Steve Berry & Steve Berry & M.J. Rose

Author:Steve Berry & Steve Berry & M.J. Rose [Vitt, Cassiopeia & Berry, Steve & Rose, M.J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Cassiopeia Vitt, M.J. Rose, thriller, Steve Berry, suspense
Publisher: Evil Eye Concepts, Inc
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

Miguel and I stepped aboard.

Everything about the ship screamed obscene money and power.

A mid-20th century style dominated. Pared-back. Curvaceous. Nostalgic. Everything an array of flowing shapes and vintage lamps. None of the wood veneers that were once popular, like glossy teak or shiny mahogany, could be seen. Here everything was a textural timber, lots of beech, birch, and pine, which brought an even more contemporary feel. The floors looked like gnarled oak, a wood I loved, one with character, expensive too. I stole a few glances into a large saloon outfitted with plush, comfortable furniture and works of art on the walls. A huge rug covered the floor, its colors fading from aquamarine to white, like waves lapping at a powdered beach. I noticed that its texture seemed interactive, the effect enhanced by the footprints that pushed the threads this way and that, like the chop of the ocean.

The armed steward led us to a staircase that wound down into the bowels of the yacht. At the end of a short corridor we entered a small room. One wall, clearly at the yacht’s stern, was a half-submerged window that provided a spectacular underwater view. I assumed there was plenty of tech behind that feat. The glass, or whatever material it was, seemed several centimeters thick and double paned. Amphitheatre seating rose away from the window that would accommodate ten people. A deep blue carpet tossed off more of a watery feel. Dark wood framed out the spectacular view.

A man stood before the window.

Handsome. Beefy, but with muscle not fat. He had a full head of wavy silver hair and curious dark eyes. Señora Basco had said Travers would be nearing eighty, but the man standing before us looked a good two decades younger. A thick gold chain hung around his neck and a diamond Franck Muller watch wrapped his right wrist. His pressed white slacks, white shirt and blue deck shoes matched the yacht’s color scheme.

“I am Robert Travers,” he said. “I assume you are Cassiopeia Vitt, the sole owner of Terra. And you are Miguel Velez, of the Prado museum.”

Good. He was expecting us.

“What do you think of my Nemo room?” he asked.

I caught the reference to 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea. I’d loved that Disney movie.

“There are countless regulations that restrict what you can do above and beneath the waterline.” He pointed out to the ocean. “But not a one for halfway between.”

He seemed proud of that loophole.

“It took two years to get this approved. But when I sit here and watch the sea pass by, it’s worth every bit of the trouble.”

He was posturing, so I let him.

“How about some coffee, tea, water?” he asked.

I decided to do a little posturing of my own. “Tea would be fine.” I glanced at Miguel. “For us both.”

Travers motioned to the man with the rifle and a steward appeared with three cups of tea, a plate of mini croissants and pain au chocolate, along with a bowl of gleaming grapes and strawberries.

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