“I can’t ignore him. Now if anything happened to you, it would probably trigger an international incident. Knowing Lynch, I can see him deliberately setting it up to cause me the most grief possible.”
She couldn’t blame him for that suspicion. On occasion Lynch could be positively brimming with catlike mischief. However, that remark was very cold.
“I’m sorry if my possible demise might cause you inconvenience,” she said dryly. “I assure you that I’ll do everything I can to prevent it. Are we done?”
“Evidently not. But I guess that’s all for me right now.” His voice was silky with malice. “But I decided our fine Special Agent Metcalf was enjoying himself a little too much at my expense, so I gave him the task of delivering a present to you. I don’t think he’s going to like that at all. He should be waiting downstairs in your parking garage right now. Have a nice evening and make certain you take very good care of yourself.” He cut the connection.
A few minutes later Kendra had left the apartment and was in the elevator on the way to the parking garage. All she wanted was to see Metcalf and get this encounter over with. She’d known Griffin and Metcalf too long to ever feel embarrassed at the hijinks that Lynch had thrown at her, but it still annoyed her. What on earth was he doing even hinting that she couldn’t take care of herself and needed the FBI in the background to rush to her defense? It had to be some kind of practical joke, and it was one she didn’t appreciate.
The elevator door opened, and Metcalf was standing there in front of her. “Stop frowning.” He held up his hands. “It’s not my fault. This is the last thing I wanted to do. And Griffin knew it and wanted to punish me.”
Metcalf was a tall, good-looking man in his late twenties who was usually very efficient and confident. He didn’t look either at this moment, and she felt a rush of sympathy for him.
“You shouldn’t have laughed at Griffin.”
“I didn’t.” He added glumly, “I just almost did. If you could have seen that envoy staring down at Griffin as if he was a first-year recruit at Quantico…” He was smiling at the thought. “Lynch and I sometimes have our differences, but it was a stroke of genius to bring in that Tibetan envoy.”
“I don’t agree. So far it seems to have brought me nothing but trouble.” She added impatiently, “Griffin said you had some kind of gift for me?”
He nodded as he took a black leather box from his jacket pocket. “The envoy gave it to Griffin and said he must take care to guard it for you. It’s a dagger given to Lynch by a lama whose life he’d saved, and it’s supposed to be filled with magic. He chose you as temporary custodian until he returns.” He carefully opened the velvet-lined box to reveal the silver dagger. “I got the whole story, and I’m supposed to tell it to you so that you’ll be properly impressed.” He tapped the eight-inch triangular blade with its steel tip. “It’s a Lhasa Tibetan phurba. Its magic comes from the effect that the dagger has on the realm of the spirit. The tantric use of the phurba encompasses the curing of disease, exorcism, killing demons, blessings, meditation, and consecrations; it can even have an effect on the weather.”
“Is that all?” Kendra asked ironically.
“No. But the envoy included a wider list that you can study at your leisure.” He paused. “One thing you should know is that some of those phurbas are cheap souvenirs that can be found for sale at a bazaar. This is not one of those phurbas. It’s over two thousand years old, and in order to maintain its magical value it must remain with the owner.”
“Who is now Lynch,” she said flatly. “I’ll stick it in a bank vault and let him decide what to do with it whenever he comes back.”
“But you’re the temporary custodian.” Metcalf was now grinning. “How do you know you’re not destroying its power to fight demons?”
“I’ll take the chance.” She looked down at the dagger. It did look very, very old. “It’s probably a priceless antique and Lynch just sent it to torment me with finding out what to do with it.”
“Or to protect you from demons. Like he did when he sent that envoy to Griffin.” Metcalf’s smile faded. “I wouldn’t mind giving you a gift like that.”
And since she was always trying to avoid encouraging Metcalf thinking in that vein, it was even more frustrating to have Lynch do something to trigger this response. “Careful,” she said lightly. “Or I’ll put you in charge of being custodian and you can house-sit that dagger yourself.”
He shook his head. “Sorry. You’re the designated custodian of the phurba. We can’t even lock it in the vault at the office.”
She shrugged. “Rats. And right now I don’t have time to find a bank to deposit it in. I-5 heading for L.A. is always a nightmare at this hour. I’d be late meeting Jessie. I guess I’ll just have to lock it in my car and deal with it tomorrow.” She headed for her Toyota. “Security is pretty good at the Hollywood Bowl.”
“Better take good care of it,” Metcalf called after her. “Maybe that Tibetan lama had a reason to give that dagger to Lynch. Black ops isn’t the safest line of work. He can always use a little luck.”
“We all can. But Lynch does just great at demon fighting on his own. Though he could probably use the weather app on that dagger with all those avalanches in Tibet.” She didn’t let Metcalf see her expression as she got into the driver’s seat. She didn’t want to think about that idiotic dagger, or black ops, or the fact that Lynch had sent her a message through Griffin instead of contacting her himself. It was all pure Lynch, whimsical, enigmatic, amusing. But she didn’t feel amused right now. So don’t think of him at all. Tomorrow, before she deposited the dagger, she’d take it up to Oceanside and show it to the kids in her class. They’d love all that magic stuff. She’d read them the directions and laugh with them about the weather app on a demon fighting weapon.
And don’t think about what Lynch was doing on those mountains, and why he’d had to save that lama’s life.
* * *
Kendra ran through the crowded plaza to the box-office windows, where after a brief wait in line she was given her ticket. She continued through the turnstiles and climbed another upward stretch to the Garden Box entrance. She stepped through and smiled. The Hollywood Bowl. If there was anything that would make her consider living in L.A., this was it. Nestled in the Hollywood Hills, this beautiful outdoor amphitheater was a hundred-year-old institution that attracted the biggest names in classical, jazz, and rock music year-round. She made it a point to drive down for at least one concert every summer.
Jessie waved to her from a box just a few yards from the stage. Kendra made her way over as Jessie raised a plastic cup filled with red wine. “You’re late!”
“Sorry, I underestimated the Bowl traffic.”
“No skin off my nose. More for me.” Jessie gestured toward a massive basket of food and two carafes of wine on the box’s small foldout table. “A gift from our hostess.”
Kendra slid into the box and plopped into a canvas chair facing the stage. She selected a fried chicken leg from the basket. “Wow. Dee is spoiling us.”