Chapter 12
Archer sat at the desk in his command center, the second office hidden behind the bookcases in his show office. While his public space at Paladin League headquarters was all light colors, his second office suited him better. The desk was dark wood, not space-age shaped white metal, the floor was wood, not marble, and he had computers and monitors readily available.
Here, he could spread files out across his desk and work.
Only one other person knew of this office. His assistant. Ms. Pressley had come over with him from ARC, and he trusted her as much as he trusted anyone.
There were times he missed the Agency for Reconnaissance and Covert-ops. Like today. If he were still with ARC, Archer would be able to pick up the phone and request all the intel available on the mysterious Fuentes.
The limitations at the Paladin League were real, but Archer preferred his current position to his former. There were fewer life-and-death situations.
That said, it was Sunday afternoon, and he was at the office. Not his ideal way to end the weekend.
The notepad in front of him had everything he knew about the ghost who went by Fuentes. The man sought the Lost Treasure of Trujillo, but no one had seen him. None of Archer’s operatives could provide an age or a description of the man’s appearance. They weren’t even able to pin down if he was Puerto Jardinese.
He didn’t like having so little information. It didn’t allow him to maneuver or to head off trouble before it could strike at his employees. Archer had three on assignment in Puerto Jardin now, and there’d already been an incident. He didn’t want another.
Not when there was only one he believed could handle herself in a high-stakes situation.
Nyx Templeton. Her background and her skillset would make her an asset to his organization. Her education, though, made him question changing her status from contractor to full-time employee. Geoarchaeology was something he only needed a few times a year. She did have archaeology knowledge, but would she be happy limited to that more often than not?
With a slight shrug, he returned to his current complication. Nyx could wait.
Fuentes was an enigma, a shadow. A potential threat. Archer picked up his pen and circled Fuentes twice.
He needed answers before the man learned about Francesca, Nyx, and Ellis.
It might be time to send in one of his operatives, someone who wasn’t primarily a historian or archaeologist.
Archer considered his options, made a decision, and reached for the phone atop his desk. Bothering his assistant at home on a Sunday would earn him a reprimand when she returned to the office, but he did it anyway. When she answered, he said, “Ms. Pressley, set up a meeting with Iona Desmond for tomorrow morning, please.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll take care of it,” she said and disconnected.
Slowly, Archer returned the phone to its cradle. From the time the Paladin League purchased the brooch at auction, he’d known there would be others aware that it was part of the missing treasure. Leaving his trio in Trujillo was a risk, but he wasn’t ready to recall them. Not yet. Francesca was his best archivist. Ellis his best art historian. Nyx his only geoarchaeologist.
If what was reported to have been part of the Lost Treasure was recovered, the cultural significance would be immense. The Spanish viceroy had looted the country of Puerto Jardin, taking anything of value, whether it be church artwork or indigenous figurines made from gold.
The emergency line rang. “Yes?”
“Archer, it’s Frankie. Nyx never returned to the hotel. Have you heard from her?”
“No, she hasn’t called.”
“She should have been here hours ago,” Francesca said.
In the background, Archer heard Ellis echo her. “Hours!”
He turned to one of his computers, tapped a few commands, and waited for the screen to open. Archer zeroed in on Trujillo, Puerto Jardin. Two Paladin League phones happily pinged. He searched for the third, scrolling in and out.
He couldn’t locate it. His stomach tightened. Where was Nyx?
Archer digitally traveled the route between Trujillo and the ruins near San Isidro, hoping to see her phone ping the system. It didn’t.
A second search yielded the same results as the first.
“Archer!” Frankie all but shouted.
“What?” he asked with a calm he didn’t feel.
“What do you want us to do? Should we look for Nyx?”
“No.” That required a reason, or he’d have a mutiny. “If Nyx returns to the hotel and you’re not there, she’ll begin searching for you. All of you will be going in circles. Best to wait. Stay where you’re at.”
“But what if Nyx needs help?”
“I have contacts. I’ll begin a search. Stay where you are,” he repeated, imbuing the last sentence with all his authority, every bit of command he’d learned at ARC. Without waiting for further argument, he disconnected.
Who did he have near San Isidro?
Archer was contemplating his options when the emergency line signaled the arrival of a text message. He frowned.
He glanced at the phone, then returned his gaze for a second, longer look.
When Nyx messaged, she used complete sentences with proper grammar and punctuation. She was anal about it. What he read was a mess. Archer wanted to dismiss it as a ruse, but he didn’t believe it was someone pretending to be his missing geoarchaeologist. No, it had all the hallmarks of a woman desperately trying to get word out without being caught.
Nyx was the hostage of a notoriously violent drug lord, and she wasn’t alone.
Archer reached for his secure line. When his call was answered, he said, “Captain Nguyen, I have an assignment for you.”