Page 70 of The Blonde Who Came in from the Cold
“Merritt!” King snapped, and Alex heard a sigh through the earpiece.
“Is there a warhead in that building? No. Is there something there that, if my suspicions are correct, might lead to one? Absolutely.” Merritt’s voice sounded like ice, and Alex could have sworn she felt the room freeze over. “Now start looking.”
Okay, Alex thought.Okay. Okay?“Looking for what?”
“You’renot looking.” Merritt sounded like the legend she was when she said, “Iam. Now stop talking and take me through that house. Slowly. Show me everything. Start in the office.”
“But—”
“I’ll know it when I see it!” Merritt snapped, and Alex had to wonder.... It felt sloppy. Ill-conceived. Like the mostun-Merritt-y of missions.
But all she could do was say, “Okay.”
The office was just an office. They found computers and phones and technology of all kinds, but Merritt couldn’t have cared less.The kitchen was professional-grade and pristinely clean, but Merritt wasn’t interested in anything—not even the tomato Alex found that was in the shape of a perfect little red heart.
“If we had some kind of clue...” King was growing frustrated.
“Just keep looking,” Merritt ordered when Alex turned down a long hall and stopped dead in her tracks.
And shouted, “OMG!”
Instantly, she wished she could pull the words back because she sounded young and silly and... like Zoe, but Alex couldn’t help herself as she looked at the glass cases that lined the long, dim hall.
It reminded her of the displays at the Farm—soft white light shining on shelf after shelf of history.
Lipstick cameras and little tin boxes of toothpowder with hidden compartments. There were vintage shoes with retractable knives in the soles, cuff links that doubled as lockpicks, and a pair of earrings that appeared to be a two-way radio.
But when Alex reached the item in the center of the case, she couldn’t help herself: she gasped. Because it was so magnificent, it should have only existed in the movies. Or her dreams.
It was a ring—just a ring. Except itwasn’tor else it wouldn’t have been in Viktor Kozlov’s spy gadget museum, and that just made Alex love it more.
The band appeared to be platinum, with intricate swirls that turned into a circle of tiny diamonds with a large red stone in the center.
Alex had never considered herself a jewelry person. In her quest to be as different from Zoe as possible, she’d eschewed most girly things as soon as she learned what boxes the world sorted women into.
Reading romance novels: Zoe.
Watching spy movies: Alex.
Wearing pink: Zoe.
Wearing black: Alex.
Caring about clothes and jewelry: Zoe.
Caring about nothing and no one: Alex.
But as she stood in the subtle glow of the display case, staring down at a ring that was both ornate and simple, old but timeless—there wasn’t a doubt in her mind that it was also beautiful but something else.
“I wonder if the gem is actually a cyanide tablet?”
She waited for King to say something likeWe have a job to do, Sterling, but her mind was going now, rolling downhill fast and picking up steam. “Do the diamonds spell out a secret message in Morse code or—ooh!—maybe the ruby is a three-dimensional map, and if the light hits it just right—”
“It will show where to dig for the Ark of the Covenant?”
Yes!
“No. I just...” But Alex trailed off when she realized King wasn’t mocking—wasn’t laughing. He was just standing there, smiling, which was odd enough. But the weirdest part was that he was smiling—at her.
