reluctance, misunderstood and stepped over to open the car door. He gave the driver a nod of dismissal as he held the door for her.
“Allow me.”
She reluctantly slid in, folding her dress away from the doorframe.
“Thank you.”
Charles lingered still, holding the car door handle.
“I’m sorry, I’m holding you up. You must be tired from traveling.”
“Not really, it’s fine,” Cordelia assured him.
“I understand you will be around for a day or so. You must promise to call me if you want some company, or need anything.” He handed her his Herodotus Foundation card. She took it.
“Congratulations on the award, and thanks again for coming,” Charles said, finally shutting her door. He waved with a smile as the limo pulled away.
She sat back in the luxurious interior of the car and looked at his card. He clearly wanted her to take the initiative and call him. She looked up and saw the limo driver observing her in the rearview mirror. He gave her a respectful nod and looked back at the road.
Maybe she would call Charles tomorrow. She was in Monaco, after all! He offered to show her around. What harm could there be in that? It was time to live!
She reached for her evening bag, to put away his card. Her bag wasn’t there! On the dark leather seat were only the diary and the Herodotus Foundation plaque. She frantically searched the seat and the floor of the limo for her minaudière. It was then she realized it was still in the right-hand pocket of John Sinclair’s tuxedo.
Udachny Motoryacht, Monaco
E vgeny stood on deck and watched Anna walk along the quay toward his yacht. This was perfect. Her husband, Vlad, was at the Oceanographic Institute Ball. Alexandrov and the rest of the Russians were probably all drunk by now, celebrating their claim on the North Pole.
He ogled her as she tottered up the aluminum walkway. Magenta silk shirt unbuttoned to reveal deep cleavage. Hip-hugging little white skirt already hiking up as she ascended the steep incline of the passerelle . The tide was in and the Benetti rode high in the harbor. She had to hold on to the handrails to manage the climb.
She was wearing very high platform espadrilles, with laces that crisscrossed up her legs almost to the knee. Those laces might be interesting later in the bedroom. He had an exciting mental preview of what he would do to her.
Evgeny had known she would come. She had intelligent eyes and understood, even from that first meeting, what he wanted. She hadn’t seemed surprised when he called her this afternoon. He didn’t think anything would surprise this woman, but he was going to try. He felt the deep stir of excitement at the thought of making her his toy for the evening.
She bussed him on the cheek as she reached the top of the gangplank. What a great little piece. Her scent was sweet and heavy. Expensive. He felt a stir again. He wanted to smell it mingled with sweat, fear even. It was going to be one hell of a night.
London
B ritish researcher Paul Oakley picked up the phone on his desk and dialed a long-distance number. As he waited for the ring, he surveyed his office and ran a hand through his mop of hair. He really had to sort out some of this mess. Stacks of paper stood in piles as high as his head. His office at Queen Mary’s School of Medicine was the epicenter of internationally renowned research on the deadly pandemic of 1918, but right now it looked like the epicenter of an earthquake. It was time to clean up. But he didn’t have the emotional focus right now; he was nervous. For the first time, he actually was involved in something clandestine, and it didn’t suit him.
The person he was calling didn’t answer, but the voice mail clicked on. He spoke quietly.
“Miles, it’s Paul Oakley. I hope you have been able to find what you were looking for. Give me a call.”
Paul Oakley was maintaining deniability about the expedition. The story was, his friend Miles was acting on his own. Oakley’s
“Allow me.”
She reluctantly slid in, folding her dress away from the doorframe.
“Thank you.”
Charles lingered still, holding the car door handle.
“I’m sorry, I’m holding you up. You must be tired from traveling.”
“Not really, it’s fine,” Cordelia assured him.
“I understand you will be around for a day or so. You must promise to call me if you want some company, or need anything.” He handed her his Herodotus Foundation card. She took it.
“Congratulations on the award, and thanks again for coming,” Charles said, finally shutting her door. He waved with a smile as the limo pulled away.
She sat back in the luxurious interior of the car and looked at his card. He clearly wanted her to take the initiative and call him. She looked up and saw the limo driver observing her in the rearview mirror. He gave her a respectful nod and looked back at the road.
Maybe she would call Charles tomorrow. She was in Monaco, after all! He offered to show her around. What harm could there be in that? It was time to live!
She reached for her evening bag, to put away his card. Her bag wasn’t there! On the dark leather seat were only the diary and the Herodotus Foundation plaque. She frantically searched the seat and the floor of the limo for her minaudière. It was then she realized it was still in the right-hand pocket of John Sinclair’s tuxedo.
Udachny Motoryacht, Monaco
E vgeny stood on deck and watched Anna walk along the quay toward his yacht. This was perfect. Her husband, Vlad, was at the Oceanographic Institute Ball. Alexandrov and the rest of the Russians were probably all drunk by now, celebrating their claim on the North Pole.
He ogled her as she tottered up the aluminum walkway. Magenta silk shirt unbuttoned to reveal deep cleavage. Hip-hugging little white skirt already hiking up as she ascended the steep incline of the passerelle . The tide was in and the Benetti rode high in the harbor. She had to hold on to the handrails to manage the climb.
She was wearing very high platform espadrilles, with laces that crisscrossed up her legs almost to the knee. Those laces might be interesting later in the bedroom. He had an exciting mental preview of what he would do to her.
Evgeny had known she would come. She had intelligent eyes and understood, even from that first meeting, what he wanted. She hadn’t seemed surprised when he called her this afternoon. He didn’t think anything would surprise this woman, but he was going to try. He felt the deep stir of excitement at the thought of making her his toy for the evening.
She bussed him on the cheek as she reached the top of the gangplank. What a great little piece. Her scent was sweet and heavy. Expensive. He felt a stir again. He wanted to smell it mingled with sweat, fear even. It was going to be one hell of a night.
London
B ritish researcher Paul Oakley picked up the phone on his desk and dialed a long-distance number. As he waited for the ring, he surveyed his office and ran a hand through his mop of hair. He really had to sort out some of this mess. Stacks of paper stood in piles as high as his head. His office at Queen Mary’s School of Medicine was the epicenter of internationally renowned research on the deadly pandemic of 1918, but right now it looked like the epicenter of an earthquake. It was time to clean up. But he didn’t have the emotional focus right now; he was nervous. For the first time, he actually was involved in something clandestine, and it didn’t suit him.
The person he was calling didn’t answer, but the voice mail clicked on. He spoke quietly.
“Miles, it’s Paul Oakley. I hope you have been able to find what you were looking for. Give me a call.”
Paul Oakley was maintaining deniability about the expedition. The story was, his friend Miles was acting on his own. Oakley’s
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