The Matador's Crown
An invitation too irresistible to refuse from the Museum of Cadiz leads archaeologist Annja Creed to the sun-drenched southern coast of Andalucia, Spain. In a region rich in Moorish and Roman ruins, she leaps at the chance to join a dig across the Bay of Cadiz, where she unearths a bronze bull statue that makes the entire trip worth every minute.Until the day after her discovery, when she sees the same artifact beside the body of a dead Spaniard, killed by the estocada, the final sword thrust used by bullfighters to bring down the bull.Whoever killed the man left clear signs of having taken something. And yet the bronze bull remained. What was so valuable the murderer chose it over a priceless artifact? How had her find come into this dead man's hands? With few leads and a growing body count, Annja's investigation takes her through a colorful world of flamenco and bullfighting to a renowned matador and an illegal–and deadly–collection of Visigoth votive crowns.
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A dead man. A stolen artifact.
As something of an expert on the medieval period, archaeologist Annja Creed jumps at the invitation from the Museum of Cadiz to assess its acquisition of Egyptian coins. Andalucia, Spain, is a region rich in Moorish and Roman ruins, and this invite gives Annja the chance to join a dig across the Bay of Cadiz. There she unearths a bronze bull statue that makes the entire trip worth every minute to her. Until the day after her discovery, when she sees the same artifact in the hotel room down the hall from hers, in the possession of a Spaniard killed by the estocada, the final sword thrust used by bullfighters to bring down the bull.
Whoever killed the man in the hotel room had left clear signs of having taken something. And yet the bronze bull remained. What was so valuable the murderer ignored a priceless artifact? With few leads and a growing body count, Annjaâs investigation takes her through the colorful world of flamenco and bullfighting to a renowned matador and an illegalâand deadlyâcollection of Visigoth votive crowns.
Earth had been hastily shoveled over the body
âThat is not good,â Garin said as he sidled up beside Annja and looked over the scene. âYou think itâs the dig supervisor you wanted to talk to?â
âSomeone looking for me?â
They turned in unisonâGarin with pistol extended and ready to fireâto find Jonathon Crockett holding an AK-47.
âI believe my Kalashnikov trumps your Glock,â Crockett said.
Annja felt Garinâs elbow twitch against her arm. He was the last man Crockettâany manâshould issue a challenge like that to.
âYou think so?â Garin held the pistol barrel skyward with his finger off the trigger to show he meant to surrender. Annja knew that wasnât going to happen.
Reaching into the otherwhere for her sword, she clasped the grip and swept the blade across Crockettâs wrist, taking him by surprise. The machine gun dropped to the dusty ground. In an agile move, Garin bent to claim it, as Annja released the sword back to where it had come from.
âNice,â Garin said. He hooked the Kalashnikov under his arm and held both guns on the whimpering professor. âSheâs my backup.â
Titles in this series:
Tear of the Gods
The Oracleâs Message Cradle of Solitude Labyrinth Furyâs Goddess Magic Lantern Library of Gold The Matadorâs Crown Destiny Solomonâs Jar The Spider Stone The Chosen Forbidden City The Lost Scrolls God of Thunder Secret of the Slaves Warrior Spirit Serpentâs Kiss Provenance The Soul Stealer Gabrielâs Horn The Golden Elephant Swordsmanâs Legacy Polar Quest Eternal Journey Sacrifice Seekerâs Curse Footprints Paradox The Spirit Banner Sacred Ground The Bone Conjurer Tribal Ways The Dragonâs Mark Phantom Prospect Restless Soul False Horizon The Other Crowd
The Legend
...The English commander took Joanâs sword and raised it high.
The broadsword, plain and unadorned, gleamed in the firelight. He put the tip against the ground and his foot at the center of the blade. The broadsword shattered, fragments falling into the mud. The crowd surged forward, peasant and soldier, and snatched the shards from the trampled mud. The commander tossed the hilt deep into the crowd. Smoke almost obscured Joan, but she continued praying till the end, until finally the flames climbed her body and she sagged against the restraints.
Joan of Arc died that fateful day in France,
but her legend and sword are reborn....
Special thanks and acknowledgment to Michele Hauf for her contribution to this work.
Contents
Prologue
The woman walking thirty strides ahead of him moved like a flamenco dancer. Powerful, forceful, yet graceful. She reminded him of Ava, the dancer in the club where he played guitar.
Ava barely acknowledged his existence and frequently complained he did not keep proper compas, marking the beat, which spoiled her dance and made her look bad in front of the audience. As a guitarist, he was attuned to the dancer and singer, but his concentration tended to waver around Ava.
Heâd thought her just another dancer when heâd taken the job at the Gato Negra club. But there was a shadow inside Ava and he felt its presence every time she took the stage. Darkness emerged in her footwork, in the aggressive expressions that contorted her face and the fierce control with which she captured the audience nightly.
So he did not hurry his pace to catch up with this other woman. Best to admire from afar.
With the guitar heâd made from German spruce and Spanish cypress strapped across his back, Diego Montera carried the cumbersome wooden crate at stomach level. He had to deliver it at midnight. In a cotton bag tied to his belt loop, he had a change of clothing and enough euros to cover a meal. He also carried the small bronze artifact he had to deliver the following morning. He had seen that muchâthat it was bronzeâas his employer had wrapped it and handed it to him. What was in the crate, he didnât know. It wasnât much heavier than his guitar.
