A Matter of Trust Read online

  “At your service.” Gaspar smiled and nodded his head.

  Nikki grinned and extended her hand, pumping Gaspar’s enthusiastically. “This is a real honor. I mean, I’ve read everything you and Christian have ever written.”

  “Yes, that’s what Christian told me.”

  “You talked about me?” That made Nikki a little uncomfortable. She didn’t like the idea that Christian might say anything about their affair.

  Gaspar’s ash gray eyes seemed to bore into her, he watched her so closely. Nikki wondered just how much Christian had told him.

  “Christian is quite impressed with you. He mentioned your research several times.”

  “Really? Well, it’s all based on his—and your work.”

  “Yes, I know. Which is why I wanted to meet you.”

  “You? You mean this isn’t a chance meeting?”

  “I’m afraid you’ve caught me.” Gaspar laughed charmingly. “Christian told me you normally eat here.”

  She couldn’t help wondering what else Christian had revealed to Gaspar.

  “Considering who you are, I can’t imagine why you’d want to meet me.”

  Gaspar leaned forward, his eyes darkening to the color of a storm cloud before it releases its watery burden to the earth. “Because, my dear, I have something for you.”

  “Something for me? What?”

  “Something you need for your research.”

  Bells went off in her mental alarm system. What was he up to? If he’d spoken with Christian then he knew that what she wanted for her work was something she’d never have, something people had been in fruitless search of for thousands of years.

  “Oh really?” She tried to pretend she wasn’t suspicious. “And what might that be?”

  “Someone who can lead you to the proof you seek.”

  “Okay, that’s enough. Who are you and who put you up to this?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me. Who are you? You can’t be Gaspar de Troyes or you wouldn’t have said what you did. And if you knew anything about de Troyes’, Christian’s or my work, you’d know that the things I’m looking for in all likelihood were destroyed thousands of years ago—even if any of them ever existed.”

  Gaspar laughed, a deep throaty laugh that made the corners of his eyes crinkle. Nikki looked at him in bewilderment. What kind of nut was this guy, anyway?

  “Bravo.” Gaspar clapped softly. “Christian told me you were a fiery one. Forgive me, but I couldn’t help myself. You see, there was a time when I, too, had a similar reaction. But believe me, Nikki, I am Gaspar de Troyes, this is no prank and I’m not delusional.”

  Nikki regarded him for a long moment. “Okay, let’s say I believe you. Why would you give me information that would lead me to such a discovery instead of using the information yourself?”

  Gaspar’s face lost its expression of genial amusement. “For that particular discussion, we would need a bit more privacy.”

  “I think this is plenty private enough.”

  Gaspar took a look around then lowered his voice. “Very well. If you insist.”

  Nikki crossed her arms over her chest and leveled her eyes with his. Gaspar leaned forward with his elbows on the table.

  “I’m sure you’re familiar with Newman’s work at Galway.”

  “Naturally.”

  “Yes, of course. Well, as you know, his finds at Tara have been spectacular. They draw a direct parallel between the Danaan with the Annunaki that Sitchin wrote of. And the Stone of Ana found at Tara is believed to be the same as the stone of Luz, the same stone upon which Jacob laid upon his head and saw a ladder ascending into heaven.”

  “Excuse me, but this is old ground, as we both know if you’ve really spoken with Christian. I’ve read everything that’s been written on the topic, including the text written by your ancestor, Chrétien.”

  “Yes, I know that. However, what you may not know is that recently, thinking has changed in regard to the Blue Stones of Atlantis—at least in some circles. “

  “Oh yeah, right. I read a paper on it. Now it’s proposed that there’s a device into which the stones can be inserted. And in doing so, the powers of the stones are combined and magnified exponentially.”

  “Yes.”

  “I know all that. In fact, it’s in my paper. I’m using it as an example that the interaction of human consciousness with physical devices predates current theory, and that if science could locate an actual device of antiquity such as the Stones and their housing device, it might provide us with data that would aid in developing complementary theoretical models to give us a better understanding of the role of consciousness in the establishment of physical reality.”

  “But," Gaspar said, “what you could not know is that these researchers were funded by a very powerful and influential conglomerate who’s been engaged in a global search for the Stones for many years and that the head of this conglomerate lives in this very city.”

  Nikki perked up at the words. Gaspar lowered his voice more. “My dear, as a fellow seeker of holy antiquities, you know that throughout the ages many have claimed to have possessed or seen such artifacts. You and I, and other scholars and academics like us, are far from the only seekers. And there are those who would exploit the knowledge or power of such objects. The reason I sought you out is that I am part of a group who has sworn to prevent such exploitation and misuse of power, and to hopefully one day reveal the truth. To succeed in our quest, we must find out what the very powerful man who heads the opposition knows and what efforts are being made by his concern. And that is where you come in.”

  “What?” She laughed. “This is ridiculous! You want me to be some kind of spy or something? Well, duh—take a good look. I’m not exactly trained for the James Bond-kind of thing.”

  Gaspar reached out to take one of her hands in both of his. “Not even if I told you that at least two of the stones and the housing device are hidden somewhere in this very city?”

  Nikki pulled her hand away and crossed her arms tightly over her chest. Despite her suspicions, excitement rose within her. “And just what exactly would this ‘spy’ have to do, Mr. De Troyes?”

  “Please, call me Gaspar.” He smiled then asked, “Tell, me how are you at working with the handicapped?”

  Nikki’s mouth fell open in surprise.

  “Yes, that’s right. We’ll expect you. Goodbye.”

  “Who are we expecting?” Helen asked from behind Richard as he cradled the receiver.

  “Another candidate.”

  A member of the household staff woman entered the room behind Helen and placed a tea service on the table. “Shall I serve?”

  “No, thank you, Deborah. That will be all,” Helen took a seat and started pouring the tea herself. She handed Richard a cup. “Tell me about this new candidate.”

  “Nikki Morgan, a graduate student at the university who’s looking for summer employment.”

  “A graduate student?” Helen arched her eyebrows. “In what?”

  “I didn’t ask.”

  “Hmmm. Well, at any rate, I think we need to rethink letting potential candidates meet Maxwell. Honestly, you’d think he could at least put forth some effort to appear — acceptable, for our sake. How are we ever supposed to locate appropriate help if he insists on behaving like some type of—well, you know.”

  In the middle of Helen’s complaint, Richard set his teacup on the table and rose from his chair. Her eyes narrowed as she watched him move to the buffet and pour himself a stiff drink.

  It was a constant source of annoyance to her the way he tuned her out when she was attempting to make a valid and legitimate point about something of importance. Not that she was surprised. He’d not been interested in what she thought for years. There was little reason to suppose that would change. But he could at least show enough courtesy to not turn his back on her while she was speaking.

  Sometimes she wondered if she’d made a monumental mistake staying
with Richard. What joy might she have experienced if she had explored other paths?

  Immediately she chastised herself for such thoughts. Richard might not be attentive, and they might not have any type of intimate relationship, but he provided the lifestyle she craved. Without him, her social standing would be markedly diminished, and that was something she was not willing to risk, for anything.

  Richard returned to his chair and took a seat, letting out a heavy sigh. “Do you ever wonder what life might have been if he had not become—?”

  Helen looked sharply at him, surprised at the wistful tone in his voice. She’d pondered that question on numerous occasions.

  “Quite a bit less stressful, I would imagine.”

  Richard nodded. “Yes, quite a bit.”

  Neither of them noticed the motion from the door, as the silent eavesdropper moved soundlessly down the hall.

  Nikki turned into the elaborate entrance and stopped at the gate. A sudden queasy feeling took control of her stomach. The entrance to the Weston estate was like something out of picture book. There was no way in the world people with that much money were going to hire someone like her to take care of their child.

  She almost turned around and left, but couldn’t turn her back on the slim possibility that maybe they wouldn't boot her out as soon as they got a look at her, and maybe Gaspar wasn’t as crazy as he seemed. If there was a chance that one of the Stones or the housing device was hidden somewhere on the Weston estate, she’d never forgive herself if she didn’t at least consider the possibility and check it out.

  She rolled down her window and punched the call button beneath the speaker. A male voice came through the speaker.

  “Weston residence. How may I assist you?”

  “Hi, I’m Nikki Morgan. I have an appointment with the Westons about a job?”

  “Yes, Ms. Morgan. Please drive up.”

  A moment later, the massive iron gate swung open. Nikki pulled through, driving slowly and marveling at the beautiful landscaped grounds.

  An older man in a dark suit was standing outside the front door, his hands clasped in front of him. Nikki parked and got out, looking up at the mansion that reached three stories above her and seemed to spread out endlessly to either side.

  “Ms. Morgan, good afternoon. I’m Osgood Gaynor, the Weston’s butler. If you will please accompany me, I’ll show you to the sitting room.”

  Nikki smiled and followed him inside. She felt a little like the pauper who'd had suddenly wandered into the king’s castle. She followed Osgood through the foyer, down a hall wide enough to be a room and past an enormous arboretum. At last they stopped outside an opened door.

  “Ms. Nikki Morgan,” Osgood announced and stepped aside for Nikki to enter the room.

  “Thank you, Osgood.” Richard rose and walked to the door to meet Nikki. “Ms. Morgan, I’m Richard Weston. This is my wife, Helen. Please, come in.”

  Nikki glanced up at Richard, trying not to notice the way he was looking at her chest. She wondered just how rude it would be to pull her denim shirt together over her T-shirt.

  “Hello.” She looked at Helen. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both.”

  Richard escorted her with his hand lightly against her back to a seat across from the divan on which Helen was perched. Helen looked like she had a bad taste in her mouth. Nikki took a seat, quickly adjusting her shirt so that it covered the T-shirt underneath, wishing she had chosen something dressier.

  “Could we offer you something to drink, Ms. Morgan?” Helen asked. “Tea, a soft drink?”

  “No, thank you,” Nikki thought the best thing to do was get the interview over as quickly as possible. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that she definitely didn’t fit into the Westons’ lifestyle. She pulled her resume from her scarred vinyl folio and extended it in their direction.

  Richard accepted it, pulled out his glasses, put them on, and quickly scanned down the page. Helen simply sat watching Nikki with her hands folded in her lap until Richard finished then reached out for the resume.

  “So, you’re a doctoral candidate.” Richard removed his glasses.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Please don’t think me rude, Ms. Morgan.” Helen looked up from the resume. “But I noticed you list your age as twenty-eight. Isn’t that a bit…mature to be just now in graduate school?”

  The question caught Nikki off guard. “Well…I don’t know. I didn’t know there was a cut-off age for education.” She immediately gave herself a swift mental kick when she saw the flash of irritation on Helen Weston’s face. “I mean, umm—”

  Richard waved off the rest of her attempt. “I’m sure my wife didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

  “Not at all,” Helen added in a tone that spoke to the contrary. “I simply was curious why your education was taking such an inordinately long period of time. According to your resume you’ve been in college for quite a number of years.”

  “Yes, I suppose.”

  “And the reason?” Helen asked.

  Nikki felt a bit of ire bubble in the pit of her stomach. What difference did her choice of majors or number of years it was taking to finish make to her getting this job? “It’s taken me that long to pay for it.” Her answer held a bit more challenge than she would’ve wished, but her natural defense was armed against the obvious distaste Helen Weston held for her.

  “I see.” Helen placed the resume on the table. “Richard?”

  “Ah, yes.” He turned his attention to Nikki. “Have you any publications to date or received any research grants?”

  “Nothing noteworthy. I’ve written several papers that’ve been published in academic works, and one article that was used in a book by Professor Christian Bernard. And grants are rarely given to doctoral candidates.”

  “I see. Well, religious archaeology and anthropology is a very interesting, if somewhat unusual field. I have interests in several scholarly publications, as well as research facilities and government programs, that sort of thing. Quite an interesting field. Now, Nikki—you don’t mind if I call you Nikki?”

  “No, sir, that’s fine.”

  “Excellent. Nikki, you mentioned during our phone conversation that the only experience you have in child care is a summer job in a…what was it?”

  “Day-care facility. I worked there for two summers and in the afternoons.”

  “Yes, of course. And you have no other experience?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Richard, pardon, darling, but if you don’t mind?” Helen waved her hand gracefully, palm up as she spoke.

  Richard inclined his head and Helen turned to Nikki with a small but brief smile.

  “Tell me, Nikki, if you’ve had virtually no experience in the field, what exactly makes you feel you’re equipped for such a position?”

  Nikki looked from her to Richard and back again. Her mind was racing, trying to find something she could say.

  “Actually, nothing, I guess, except that I take responsibility seriously and I’m pretty good at seeing things through.”

  “I see.” Helen turned to Richard with one delicate brow arched, before she looked at Nikki again. “Would you mind me asking, dear, why exactly you want this position?”

  “No, I don’t mind. The truth is, I need a job. I’d kind of like to keep a roof over my head and be able to eat.”

  “I take that to mean that you do not live at home?”

  “No, ma’am. My parents are both dead. I’ve been on my own since I was sixteen.”

  “And worked your way through college?” Richard asked.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Well, that certainly demonstrates determination and responsibility, doesn’t it? I commend you. Not everyone possesses the kind of resolve necessary to accomplish such a goal. Aside from your lack of experience, have you ever had the occasion to associate with disabled or handicapped people, Nikki?”

  “Not really. Well, a little, I guess. I have friends with physica
l limitations, but I’ve never really thought of them as disabled.”

  “I think what Richard is referring to is along the lines of a mental disability,” Helen said. “You see, our Maxwell is a—unique boy. He isn’t involved in sports or such activities, but prefers to spend most of his time in his quarters with his little electronic toys. He does enjoy swimming from time to time and occasionally playing in the gym or attempting to swat at balls on the tennis courts. Primarily, he’s very drawn to television and films.”

  Nikki nodded. “I see. So, if you don’t mind me asking, exactly what would you need in terms of child care?”

  “Primarily we need someone to keep an eye on Maxwell when he’s out of doors, someone to occupy him with games and movies, outdoor activities and the like. The staff will see to his upkeep in terms of keeping his quarters tidy and preparing his meals. You, if you were offered the position, of course, would generally function in the role of companion.”

  “So it would be a more or less round-the-clock job?”

  “Oh, heavens no. Of course not. Maxwell is quite regimented. He goes to bed promptly at nine p.m. ever and wakens at precisely seven am. The housekeeper Louise sees to his breakfast. Your day would begin at eight. At noon Maxwell has lunch, followed by a two-hour nap. Dinner is at seven. Immediately after dinner, he bathes and is allowed to view a film or play with his computers until bedtime. You would be given Friday evening off after dinner and all day Sunday, during which time Osgood and Louise will see to Maxwell.”

  “Well, it doesn’t sound too difficult. But there is one thing I need to ask. I’m working on my thesis and there may be times I need to go to the university. Would that be a problem?”

  “I don’t think so,” Richard answered. “Providing, of course, it’s not a habitual occurrence. However, I’m sure the staff will work out an acceptable schedule with you. And I’ll be happy to provide you with online access to the university, as well as several other fine research facilities, if you like.”

  “Thanks.” Nikki smiled. “That’d be great.”

  “Marvelous. Are there any other questions?”