Schoolteacher Fiona is on a mission for her beloved but ailing grandpa - find a missing Zimbabwean artefact, the priceless soapstone statuette known as the Bird of the Gods. Conrad - globetrotting archaeologist-for-hire, contracted to the stunning i...
A floral mouse. Not, Conrad felt safe in asserting, the kind of thing you expected to encounter on a globe-spanning race for hidden treasure.
But there it was. Bright under the early morning Californian sun, Mickey's big old face smiled up at him in a benign vacancy from the gardens spanning the front entrance to Disneyland. Which, incidentally, was not the kind of place you expected to go on a globe-spanning race for hidden treasure.
Coordinates, however, did not lie. And that's just what the document he'd pilfered from Grenville-Temple contained. Coordinates to Disneyland, plus a symbol—a symbol for which he'd yet to confirm a meaning. But hoped to do so, very soon.
Even now, fourteen hectic and nearly sleepless hours later, he couldn't suppress a grin of satisfaction at the way he'd trumped the infuriating, persistent—and surprisingly capable—young woman. She might look all mousey and wouldn't-hurt-a-fly, but there was clearly some steel in there—no matter how soft she'd felt in his arms when he'd broken her fall back in Montreal. It wasn't easy to keep up with Conrad Williams in a hurry, never mind getting the better of him.
Which reminded him, he should get a move on. The pricey—and nerve-wracking—red-eye from Montreal and the Uber Black from the airport (gotta love an all-expenses-paid job) should have given him a lead on her but he was past taking things for granted. He needed to find the next clue and leave shapely Miss Prim-and-Proper choking on his dust.
Even though he wasn't footing the bill, the extortionate entry fee stung, but he nevertheless paid up and strode out onto Main Street, USA, making his impatient way through the crowds of slack-jawed tourists.
The happiest place on Earth? Given the lack of bars, he doubted it. Fortunately, his next destination might just sort out that particular issue.
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"But it's a sociological and archaeological emergency!"
The doorman did not seem to assign this declaration quite the degree of importance Fiona felt it warranted.
"I'm concerned to hear it, ma'am. Unfortunately, emergencies notwithstanding, entry to Club 33 is strictly for members and their guests only. Now, if you would care to move al—"
"Fine. How much?"
"Ma'am?"
Fiona retrieved her purse from her bag. "How much to join?"
The doorman blinked. Fiona had the distinct impression this was not something he did very often. "To join what, ma'am?"
"Your silly club, of course." A quick google had indicated the private Disney institution was very exclusive and no doubt membership wouldn't be cheap, but desperate times... "If that's the only way you'll let me in, then I'll just have to join."
The doorman's laugh was dry and completely without humour. "Ah-ha-ha. Very droll, ma'am. Membership is, of course, by invitation only. And the initiation fee is currently $70,000."
