Cradle of Solitude by Alex Archer

Author:Alex Archer
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Worldwide Library
Published: 2011-03-24T16:00:00+00:00

20

They arrived in Atlanta just past four o’clock local time, thanks to the eight-hour flight and the six-hour time change. Having rested comfortably for most of the trip, they immediately collected the rental car Garin’s people had arranged. In no time they were on the road.

Washington, Georgia, where the Chennault plantation was located, was about an hour and a half drive northeast of Atlanta. They managed to get out of the downtown area before the afternoon traffic became too heavy and made good time on the road, arriving just as the sun was beginning to set.

The directions given to them by the Realtor were excellent and they had no problems finding the antebellum mansion on the south side of town.

The house was surrounded on two sides by towering oaks and on the others by gently rolling hills that disappeared off into the distance. They pulled into the drive and parked behind the silver BMW that was already there. As they did so, the front door to the mansion opened and a woman came out to greet them.

Catherine Daley turned out to be a bleached blonde in her mid-fifties dressed in a cream-colored business suit. Annja’s cargo pants, T-shirt and hiking shoes were a sharp contrast and the look on Catherine’s face as Annja got out of the car told her all she needed to know about the woman’s prejudices.

She didn’t have to endure the Realtor’s withering stare for long, however, because Garin stepped out of the passenger side at that point and the Realtor’s gaze focused on him like a heat-seeking missile. Annja could have been dancing naked in the street with bells and whistles on and the other woman wouldn’t have noticed.

“Mr. Boucher, I presume?” Catherine said in a thick Southern accent as she walked over on her three-inch heels and held out her hand.

Garin smiled and, without batting an eye, replied with a long stream of perfect French.

Catherine paused and said, “Oh.”

Annja wanted to hit her already and they’d only been there two minutes. It was going to be a long appointment.

“Do you speak any English?” Catherine asked.

“Does you mother dress as badly as you?” he replied, again in French.

Thanks to his tone, it came out sounding mildly lascivious, making the Realtor flush. “Oh, my,” she said.

Annja had had enough.

She stepped forward and extended her hand to the woman, saying, “Hi! I’m Annja. I emailed you.”

“Um…yes, oh, yes, right. Miss Creed, correct?” Catherine’s smile did its best not to falter.

“That’s right. I’m Mr. Boucher’s agent. I’d be happy to translate as you show us the property.”

Catherine’s smile grew tighter. “Of course. Shall we start with the ground floor, then?”

All Annja wanted to see was the wine cellar, but she knew that if she simply asked for them to be taken there directly it wouldn’t look right. She wasn’t worried so much about what Catherine might think, but she didn’t want to give those coming after them any clues to where they had gone or what they had found.

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