knew someone in the restoration department who could slip me into a hidey-hole, and keep my things safe while I did my targeted wander aimed at locating Simon.
"Anytime, love." Gerry said.
"You didn't happen to know him, did you?" I asked.
"Not really . . ." He hesitated. "But somehow he does look familiar to me. Probably at some event I worked once."
Worked. Yeah, right.
"You'll let me know if you remember."
"Absolutely."
"Great, Ger, thanks. Got to go, but keep in touch. Okay?"
"Will do, Laurel. You watch yourself, too."
It felt a little lonely when Gerry disconnected. He wasn't the best person to have in my corner, but at least he was someone right then. I may be young, blonde, and too much of a spendthrift for my boss, but that didn't mean I wasn't a cautious and intelligent person. The dangers in my life were real. Simon, my contact for this case, was missing. The only clue I'd been able to locate that could possibly help find him was on a drive with corruption problems. And I was playing cat and mouse with Clark Gable.
I thought back to the day before, the first time we'd met. It was soon after I'd received a bogus message on my phone, right before I was scheduled to get into the Castillo. New directions so close to the truth I hadn't realized they didn't quite match closely enough, and led me down a rabbit trail. It took time I didn't have to recover and backtrack from the mistake, then more time roaming the sprawling estate to try to find the contact. Time someone obviously used to kill him. Was I misdirected to save me? Or to trap him? Could I have been the proposed victim instead? And had it been Hawkes who'd sent the message?
Now I seemed on a second fool's errand. On my own because my compatriot was missing, as was the treasure I'd been sent to claim. And instead of bogey emails and text messages, I now had a bogey Englishman-cum-Southerner on my tail. Hopefully, Gerry would remember where he might have seen Hawkes before and could give me the heads up. Until then, I was on my own. Max would be angry at me for withholding information, but involving him now would only further muddy the waters.
Which led to the real muddy waters in my life; the dockside ones I believed held the possible opportunity of meeting with the 'smelly Welshman' who may have been the last person to see Simon. I had to hope the evening meeting with the Jones character was the same or a confederate to whomever Simon met that morning.
I struck off at a strong pace toward the Victoria and Albert Museum. It was just far enough that a Tube ride would have saved some time and effort, but I had both to spare as I waited for the Docklands meeting, and walking above ground not only let me check for anyone following me, but kept me from getting trapped on a train with someone I wanted to avoid. Nevertheless, my Prada sat heavy on my shoulder. I contemplated ditching the bag before the meeting to give myself more options for maneuverability.
Â
"It's so great to see you, Laurel. Have you a place yet to stay while you're here?" Cassie Dean asked. She had cut her blonde hair since coming to London, and also sported a couple of thin fuchsia streaks.
"You've found a new look. No one could mistake us for sisters anymore," I said.
She laughed. "We really used that to our advantage at Cornell. Too bad you had to go and graduate ahead of me. Have you been waiting long?"
I linked arms with her and moved away from the front desk. "No longer than usual, Cassie. I knew someone would finally find you among all the artifacts. Patience builds character I'm told."
"You already have plenty of character, Laurel. Guess my work is done."
"I take it you like it here?"
"I don't ever want to leave. I'm hoping I can get a full-time position soon," she said. "Now that I've completed my Master's it's the perfect opportunity to try for something like this. Keep your fingers crossed for me."
"Always do, Cass."
She had written to me months before about
"Anytime, love." Gerry said.
"You didn't happen to know him, did you?" I asked.
"Not really . . ." He hesitated. "But somehow he does look familiar to me. Probably at some event I worked once."
Worked. Yeah, right.
"You'll let me know if you remember."
"Absolutely."
"Great, Ger, thanks. Got to go, but keep in touch. Okay?"
"Will do, Laurel. You watch yourself, too."
It felt a little lonely when Gerry disconnected. He wasn't the best person to have in my corner, but at least he was someone right then. I may be young, blonde, and too much of a spendthrift for my boss, but that didn't mean I wasn't a cautious and intelligent person. The dangers in my life were real. Simon, my contact for this case, was missing. The only clue I'd been able to locate that could possibly help find him was on a drive with corruption problems. And I was playing cat and mouse with Clark Gable.
I thought back to the day before, the first time we'd met. It was soon after I'd received a bogus message on my phone, right before I was scheduled to get into the Castillo. New directions so close to the truth I hadn't realized they didn't quite match closely enough, and led me down a rabbit trail. It took time I didn't have to recover and backtrack from the mistake, then more time roaming the sprawling estate to try to find the contact. Time someone obviously used to kill him. Was I misdirected to save me? Or to trap him? Could I have been the proposed victim instead? And had it been Hawkes who'd sent the message?
Now I seemed on a second fool's errand. On my own because my compatriot was missing, as was the treasure I'd been sent to claim. And instead of bogey emails and text messages, I now had a bogey Englishman-cum-Southerner on my tail. Hopefully, Gerry would remember where he might have seen Hawkes before and could give me the heads up. Until then, I was on my own. Max would be angry at me for withholding information, but involving him now would only further muddy the waters.
Which led to the real muddy waters in my life; the dockside ones I believed held the possible opportunity of meeting with the 'smelly Welshman' who may have been the last person to see Simon. I had to hope the evening meeting with the Jones character was the same or a confederate to whomever Simon met that morning.
I struck off at a strong pace toward the Victoria and Albert Museum. It was just far enough that a Tube ride would have saved some time and effort, but I had both to spare as I waited for the Docklands meeting, and walking above ground not only let me check for anyone following me, but kept me from getting trapped on a train with someone I wanted to avoid. Nevertheless, my Prada sat heavy on my shoulder. I contemplated ditching the bag before the meeting to give myself more options for maneuverability.
Â
"It's so great to see you, Laurel. Have you a place yet to stay while you're here?" Cassie Dean asked. She had cut her blonde hair since coming to London, and also sported a couple of thin fuchsia streaks.
"You've found a new look. No one could mistake us for sisters anymore," I said.
She laughed. "We really used that to our advantage at Cornell. Too bad you had to go and graduate ahead of me. Have you been waiting long?"
I linked arms with her and moved away from the front desk. "No longer than usual, Cassie. I knew someone would finally find you among all the artifacts. Patience builds character I'm told."
"You already have plenty of character, Laurel. Guess my work is done."
"I take it you like it here?"
"I don't ever want to leave. I'm hoping I can get a full-time position soon," she said. "Now that I've completed my Master's it's the perfect opportunity to try for something like this. Keep your fingers crossed for me."
"Always do, Cass."
She had written to me months before about
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