The Cathari Treasure (Cameron Kincaid) (10 page)

“Cameron, Marie.”  He
turned his head to her and arched an eye, “You can call me Cameron.”

“Mister Kincaid,” said Marie
again.  He sighed and looked back down at a plate next to the sink. 
He put the dish into the hot water.  “Yes,” said Cameron.

“I only wanted to tell you…”

“Yes?”

“Well, you look so natural in
the kitchen.”

“Thank you, I think.”

“I mean, you are -- were -- a
soldier.  Now you are a chef.  How does that happen?”

 “You mean, how did I learn
to cook?”

“No,” said Marie, “though your food
is wonderful, I imagine that you are a different man now than you were as a
Legionnaire.”

“That is probably true.”

“So how does that happen?”

Cameron handed Marie the last
plate to dry and pulled the stopper from the sink to let the water drain. 
Cameron then picked up a towel he had left sitting on the counter and began to
dry his hands.  “How does that happen,” said Cameron, “I have Claude to
thank I guess.”

“He taught you to cook?” asked
Marie.  She set down the last plate, now dry, and hung the towel she had
been using.

“Yes, but more than that.” 
Cameron opened the door to Pepe’s wine cave and grabbed the neck of a bottle
near the door.  “He did teach me to cook, but he also taught me
balance.”  He held the bottle up to the light and then reached for the
corkscrew.

“Balance is important.  To
be sure,” said Marie.

“Yeah, well, it started simply
enough.”  Cameron plunged the corkscrew into the bottle, “The rations we
had in the Legion left a bit to be desired.  They’ve gotten better over
the last few years, but early in my hitch, they were far more lacking.” 
Cameron uncorked the bottle and poured the dark wine into two clean
glasses.  “Claude is an elder Legionnaire, les Anciens as we say.” 
He offered a glass to Marie, “I guess now I am too.  Regardless, Claude
served in the French Far East expeditionary corps, way back.”  Cameron
leaned back on the counter, “Then, the ration kits were composed of German and
American stocks, as well as local food.  Claude and the other les Anciens
all told me how good us young fellas had it.”  Marie too leaned against
the counter.  Cameron held up his arm gestured toward the main room and
the large sofa.  “Claude told me that the Legionnaires occupied their time
fighting the Viet Minh purely so that they wouldn’t focus on their own
cooks.”  Marie smiled at Cameron’s jest and sat on the sofa.  He sat
next to her.  The fire crackled in the hearth and cast amber light into
the room.  The moon had moved across the sky and now shown through a
different set of windows.

Cameron continued, “I guess it
was at that time that Claude learned to cook for himself.  He had some
training before the Legion and a natural skill.  He became very popular to
those around him for having the ability to turn the rations into something
great.”

“And he taught you this?”

“Not right away.  He did
not want much to do with me at first.”

“What changed that?”

“I saved his life.”

Marie curled her leg under
her.  She unfastened the tightly wrapped towel from her head and let her
auburn hair fall in front of her.  Cameron continued his story with his
eyes locked on her.  The way she naturally ran her fingers through her
hair was so innocent, wholesome, and pure.  When Marie lifted her head
back to him her face glowed faintly in the firelight.  Her eyes twinkled. 
“So you got his attention,” said Marie.

“Yes, you could say that. 
He opened up and we became close.”  Cameron paused and then said, “His
mentorship saved my life many times in return.”  He took a sip of
wine.  “Ultimately, it was he that convinced me to leave the Legion with
him, to learn to cook professionally, and to partner in Le Dragon Vert, our
restaurant in New York.”

“You don’t think you would have
done that without him, became a chef I mean.”

“I don’t know.  Claude said
I had a je ne sais quoi, that led to a charmed life.”

“I could see that,” said Marie.

“Really?”

“You are a very interesting man,
Mister Kincaid.”

Marie’s eyes were inviting and
her lips full.  Cameron leaned toward her, “I told you, call me
Cameron.”  He placed his lips against hers and kissed her.  Marie
responded by reaching around his shoulders and pulling him closer.  The
kiss was long and the two embraced tightly.  Then Marie pulled her head
away, “Mister Kincaid.”

Cameron looked into her eyes,
“Cameron,” said Cameron again.

“Mister Kincaid,” said Marie,
slowly shaking her head to either side, “I can not.”

“I understand,” said
Cameron.  He let his arms fall from her sides.

A clanging of metal came from
outside of the cabin where the Chevy was parked.  Cameron and Marie sat upright. 
The P226 had been left upstairs.  Cameron took the stairs two at a time
and secured the handgun from the bureau drawer in the bedroom he had chosen for
his own.  He released the safety, pulled the slide back to cock the
handgun, and then went back downstairs.  Marie was on the edge of the
couch with her hands on the inside of her knees.  Marie saw the handgun
and started to speak, Cameron threw his finger up to his lips.  There was
another clang.  Cameron took his finger from in front of his lips and
pointed toward the huge windowed wall and the glass door within that opened on
to the deck over looking the lake.  He then walked his middle and index
fingers in a semi circle.  Marie nodded.  Cameron pointed at Marie,
spread his hand flat, and slowly pressed his palm down through the air.

Cameron lifted the P226 to a
line of fire and turned the latch of the glass door.  The glass door
opened silently.  A light breeze, cool from the lake, whisked passed the
side of his face.  He placed a bare foot on the deck, testing the wood for
sound.  The boards did not creak.

The deck was cold on his bare
feet.

Slowly Cameron made his way to
the edge of the deck.  He knew that when he turned the corner, whoever was
at the other end of the cabin would have the advantage of seeing him in
silhouette against the lake.  He decided his only advantage would be
surprise.  Cameron counted to three and on three lunged around the corner,
P226 ready to fire.  He saw no one.  Stars filled the sky above the trees
that hid all below them in shadow.  In the moonlit yard between the trees
and the cabin no form or shadow moved.  At the back of the cabin, around
the side that Cameron could not yet see, the disturbance to the stillness
continued.  His body cant and both arms fully bent, Cameron made quick
measured steps to the next corner.  Cameron counted to three again and
then on three hurled himself around the corner into a ready firing position.

Cameron immediately saw the
culprit creating the noise by the cabin.  The masked bandit paid no
attention to the man with the gun standing barefoot at the corner.  Marie
had taken the trash out of the kitchen, placed the refuse in the large plastic
bin by the door, and had not fastened the lid of the bin with the snap-on
handles.  The smell of the food scraps from the unsealed bin lured a plump
raccoon from the tree line.

Cameron straightened his legs
and let the P226 rest by his side.

* * *
* *

Lake Ontario

The aroma of fresh brewed coffee
and the soft sounds of Mozart flowed to Cameron’s bedside from the great room
below.  Cameron was quick to his feet, relaxed and refreshed.  He had
been barely a moment between the soft mattress and duvet before falling deep
into sleep.  If he dreamt, the dreams were fleeting.  His only sense
had been that his breath was heavy.

Cameron slipped on his pants and
shirt, stepped out the balcony in front of his bedroom, rested both hands on
the rail, and looked out onto the lake.  Lake Ontario’s dark waters from
the night before were now cool blue and the far off horizon cut a fine line
below a peach ribbon of morning light.  Below Cameron saw Nicole poking at
the fire.  Orange embers burst and snapped around the small logs in the
hearth with each jab of the iron rod.  Holding a cup of coffee Marie
walked to the large windowed wall from the kitchen beneath the balcony to
admire the morning light on the lake.

Marie sipped from her coffee and
walked to Nicole.  Above Nicole, Marie noticed Cameron on the balcony.

“Good morning,” said Marie.

Nicole, still crouched before
the fire, lifted her head up, “Good Morning Mister Kincaid.”

“Good Morning,” said
Cameron.  He reached up and ran his fingers through his mussed hair,
loosely scratching his scalp.  He was glad to see the women in good
spirits.  Toronto, and what the visit to the city would mean for them,
moved to the front of his mind.

* * *
* *

Toronto

Back on the main highway, there
was silence between them.  Cameron tilted his head back and then
side-to-side.  The fingertips of one hand tap, tap, tapped the vinyl on
the door and the fingertips of the other rested on the steering wheel. 
His eyes shifted from the road to the rearview mirror.  Nicole was moving
across the bench seat from the center to the passenger side window.

“It’s strange,” said Nicole.

“What is?” asked Marie.

“That sign.”

Marie did not lift her
head.  The contents of her bag were spread on her lap and she was
arranging and rearranging the items.

The sign that the Chevy was
about to pass was a Memorial Highway Marker.  Two Edwardian crown capped
marker shields, similar to others that had appeared singularly every few
minutes as they traveled down the Lake Ontario coast, bordered the highway’s
name on a field of blue.  One shield was numbered 401, marking the road as
a Canadian highway, and the other displayed a poppy in place of a number. 
Between the two shields were the words ‘Highway of Heroes’.

“I read about this memorial,”
said Cameron.  “This strip of road is dedicated to Canada’s fallen soldiers. 
The soldiers come into the country back at the Trenton military base and then
the bodies are convoyed with family members to the coroner’s office in
Toronto.”

“Always this way?”

“It started as a phenomena I
guess.  Crowds of patriotic Canadians were lining the overpasses to pay
tribute to the soldiers and then it became kind of official.”

“I understand,” said
Nicole.  “That sounds very nice.”  The sign behind them she found
something else of interest.  She moved back to the center of the seat to
get a clearer look out the windshield, leaned forward, and rested her head
between Cameron and Marie.

“What is that tower?”

“That is the CN tower,” said
Cameron, “a national landmark.”

“CN?”

“Canadian National Tower.”

The spire on the horizon dwarfed
the Toronto skyline.  The revolving restaurant brilliantly reflected the
late afternoon sun and intermittently flared as they drew closer to the city.

“Is that where we are going?”
asked Nicole.

Cameron looked over at
Marie.  He did not have an exact destination in mind, simply
Toronto.  Though Marie had begun to trust Cameron and was no longer
overtly secretive, in the midst of their chaotic travel some things were still
unfolding as need to know.  This did not bother Cameron and he was not put
off when Marie returned his glance with a nod and answered Nicole with a,
“Yes.”

“Will we be going up into the
tower?”

“Yes we will,” said Marie.

“Hmm,” said Nicole.  She
sat back in her seat, crossed her arms, and turned her head toward the lake.

* * *
* *

The way to the tower was well
marked.  Without much effort, the three soon found themselves in a
designated parking lot in the shadow of the tower.  Cameron switched off
the engine.  After listening to the Chevy engine’s numbing roar and vibration
of the tires on the highway, the silence was eerie in their absence.  He
stretched his arms far in front of him interlocking his fingers.  “So,”
said Cameron, adjusting the rearview mirror to see his own reflection. 
His hand ran over his forehead and his fingers through his hair.  “What’s
next?  I suppose we go in.”

“Yes, Mister Kincaid,” said
Marie.  “We will meet someone here.”

“The Perfect?  Here?”

“No, that would be too
easy.  There is someone here who will direct us though.”

“Ah, a contact.”

“Yes, a contact.  They are
waiting for us.”

Cameron shrugged and opened the
car door.  He took the idea of meeting a contact in stride.  There
had already been two rendezvous and two attempts on their lives.  Cameron
pulled back the release of the P226, inspected the handgun, and then stepped
out of the car.