Page 5 of Afraid to Hope

Natasha’s heart sank. That could only mean one thing. “A private buyer.”

The director turned his eyes to her. “Yes, and the clock is ticking. There is fear that the Ouarzazate Codex may already be in private hands because that bidding has stalled. The bidding on theHomo sapiensis slowing, indicating a purchase is imminent.”

Natasha finished her water. “How much time do we have, sir?”

“I’m unable to answer that.” The director paused and regarded Natasha. “There’s more. Intel gleaned from multiple sources confirms that the American orchestrated the thefts and that bidding commenced prior to the looting. Of course, crushing or seriously damaging the American would be outstanding.”

She sat up rigidly. “Excuse me? That’s im-impossible, sir,” Natasha stuttered. “I took the American into custody in Guatemala. Eric Schaus let it be known that he was the American. He cannot have recovered from his… his… accident in Petén. He was in critical shape. I witnessed his injuries.”

“You are correct,” he said. “Eric Schaus was in critical condition but has improved greatly. Our people used skills at their disposal to convince Schaus that it was in his best interest to talk. The man became quite cooperative. One key piece of information he has given us is that the American is anetwork,not an individual as we long believed. The American has been operating since World War II and has a presence on most continents.”

Natasha would have toppled over in disbelief had she not been sitting. How the hell had this been missed?

“Doctor, you were sent photos and a large Fatima with an attached key. The Fatima and key were found, it seems, in an abandoned outbuilding of an old cheese farm outside Imouzzer du Kandar, a small town situated between Fes and Ifrane. The pictures were taken by a team that was following up on a credible lead, but they were called away on another urgent matter, which never materialized.” Emmet frowned and tapped his pen on his notepad, temporarily pulled to that moment, and said under his breath, “Strange that was.” His laser focus returned. “I apologize for the quality. The photos might prove useful when you are further into your assignment.”

Director Cantrell reached behind him and turned back with two identical-looking, thick binders, which he handed Natasha and Bane. “It should go without saying, but bloody hell, I’m going to say it anyway given the escalation in activity related to the American and its interests. The information within these binders is confidential. Should it be seen by anyone outside of us, your safety and the mission would be compromised. On that note, Dr. Jordaan is tired.Matilda willcall for the car to take you to yourriad,Doctor. While you are waiting, please use my office and begin studying the materials. I have another meeting. As I said, we will meet again in the morning. Oh eight hundred sharp, Bane.”

“Got it,” he answered, still slouching in his chair.

“I need to get supplies—food, basics,” Natasha protested, still wrestling with the revelation about the American.

“Provide a list and I will give it to Matilda on my way out. All of the items will be in the car when it is here to collect you,” he said, handing her a notepad from his desk.

Natasha wrote quickly and handed it back to Director Cantrell. “Thank you.”

“Simon Wade is your driver and can assist you with anything else you might require. Try to get some restive sleep. You too, Bane.” He stood, indicating that the meeting was over. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“You grew up here?”

“We’re supposed to begin studying the information while we wait, Mr. Rua.”

“Bane,” he said, smiling devilishly. “I’m going to study tonight. I want to know more about you.”

“Maybe another time,” she said evenly, giving him what she hoped was a look of indifference. “I’m going to read.” Natasha glanced away quickly, afraid she would be unable to stop herself from staring at him.

“Always a rule follower?”

Her eyes snapped back up, right into amused hazel orbs. They had become greener in mere seconds. “I follow orders. Are you always a nonconformist?”

“I follow orders too. Emmet didn’t give us an order.”

“Suit yourself,” Natasha said dismissively. Her eyes dove to the open binder in her lap. She focused on shutting out his presence.

Bane slid his binder into the waxed canvas messenger bag on the floor by the leg of his chair and crossed his ankle over his knee. He clicked his pen rhythmically, like a metronome, while regarding Natasha thoughtfully.

No longer able to concentrate, she stared at him.

“Am I bothering you?” he asked, smirking, continuing to click his pen.

“Can you please stop?” Natasha reached over and stilled his thumb, partially covering his hand. Belatedly she realized what she had done. The connection between them flared and electricity sparked and raced like wildfire through her body. Rattled, she withdrew her hand as if burned.

Bane’s eyes sparkled with mirth. “Stop what? I’m sitting here quietly, minding my own business.”

“You are annoying me with your pen clicking.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

Natasha made it to the end of the second paragraph before more clicking pulled her from her reading. She glared at him.

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