Chapter Two—Moving into Position #2
“I can assure you,” he said, “that I am not armed, although it’s reasonable of your butler to be concerned.” He turned to Sara with a slow smile that quirked up one side of his sensual mouth. “I’m glad to see ye are well.”
The smile was pure animal magnetism. Luckily, she was immune to such things. Really. She lifted her chin. “Thank you,” she replied, well aware that Mr. Smith’s ears perked up like a terrier’s. “Have we met?”
He hesitated a minute and the smile spread into a grin. He took off the shades and held out his hand. “I’m Lucas Ramsey.”
His eyes. They were slanted a bit at the corners and were the same tawny color as his hair, and clear as single malt Scotch.
She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen eyes the color of amber before.
And they were penetrating, too, looking right through to her very soul.
Her senses sharpened and she felt her aura expanding toward him. Great. So much for immunity.
He cleared his throat, only it sounded like a small growl. Sara realized she was gawking and felt her face flush. I’m almost thirty years old, for crying out loud! I’m no schoolgirl! “I’m Sara Kincaid,” she said and took his hand.
Big mistake. If she’d been warm just sitting near him, now she sizzled. The touch was almost electrifying, sending pulsations to nerve endings everywhere. Including, she realized as her face grew even hotter, down there. Abruptly, she pulled her hand away and managed to regain some control.
“Ummm,” Nim said dreamily. “This one’s a keeper.”
Stop it! She turned away from the giggling faerie. “What brings you here, Mr. Ramsey?”
“Lucas. The document, of course.” He nodded to Mr. Smith’s desk.
At least, he didn’t try to cover that up. “You were on the plane yesterday.”
He nodded again. “I wasn’t able to afford the bid, so I did the next best thing. I followed its new owner home.” He smiled lopsidedly. “Just like a puppy.”
That smile was disarming, as he probably meant it to be, but she refused this time to be distracted. He followed me? Damn. So much for my knack of situational awareness.
“I don’t believe I saw you at the auction.” I couldn’t have missed him with all that testosterone flowing!
He shrugged benignly. “I spoke to the accounts clerk afterwards.”
“And he gave you the information?”
“Well, not exactly. But his ledger was open, and I…have the ability to read upside down. It comes in useful sometimes.”
Sara wondered what other little skills he had that might come in useful sometimes.
Like addling her brain with those exotic eyes.
Or what those strong fingers would feel like stroking her bare skin…
Stop this! Concentrate on the topic! With her not-so-great record with Bad Boys of America, she didn’t need to go falling all over a perfect stranger.
Especially a devastatingly handsome one.
She should know what good-looking men could do. Breaking hearts was what they did best.
“How did you get by security, by the way?” Sara asked.
Her boss might be an eccentric, but he was a lucid one, well aware of the high risk of burglary.
He had surveillance cameras posted around his estate, and every gardener, handyman and servant had also been trained as security guards.
In addition to the uniformed ones and the off-duty officers who had been waiting for her at the airport.
Lucas looked a bit sheepish, making him seem like a small boy caught with his fingers in the cookie jar. Sara began to wonder if he had, indeed, done professional acting. He reached inside the attaché again and produced a badge.
“Scotland Yard?” Sara said as she examined it.
“It’s the real thing,” he answered, and she blushed somewhat guiltily and handed back the badge. “I do a little…investigative…work for them occasionally. Usually when they need to authenticate medieval artifacts that have been reported stolen and pop up somewhere.”
That explained his little skill of being able to read upside down.
Detective training, no doubt. Fleetingly, she wondered if the Yard trained its men in the art of seduction too.
Lucas Ramsey could make James Bond look like a geek.
Goddess, she needed to get a grip. Sara leaned back against the settee.
“So, then. Why are you here?”
His eyes held hers a moment longer and then he turned to Mr. Smith.
“As I said, I was on the dig, but I never got to look at the manuscript. It was sealed in a metal container when we brought it out. I’d very much like to read it.
That’s all.” He opened an attaché case and pulled out papers that he laid on the desk.
“Letters of reference. I think you’ll find that I am who I say I am. ”
“The manuscript is in Gaelic,” Sara said dryly.
“And I’m a Gael,” Lucas replied with a grin.
“You could read this?” Mr. Smith interrupted.
“If you’ll permit me?” Lucas held out his hand.
Mr. Smith considered for a moment and then reluctantly turned over one piece.
Lucas accepted it carefully, holding it by its edges. His eyebrows rose as he scanned the paper and when he looked up, his gaze was sharp and alert, almost like an animal sensing danger.
“This document needs to be locked away someplace where it can’t be stolen.”
“Why?” Sara asked as she felt soft hair on her arms begin to rise.
“Because if this falls into the wrong hands, it could mean the destruction of civilization as we know it.”
****
“So the document is in Dallas.” Baylor leaned back in his desk chair and stared at Alan Caldwell, the con man who had yet to fail him.
“One of the suburbs,” he answered with a shrug. “A pity I couldn’t just nab her at the airport, but there were two policemen waiting for her.”
“I expected as much,” Baylor replied. “She probably called her boss after the incident at Sotheby’s.
” His face hardened as he thought of that idiot Toby.
This could all have been avoided if that fool had done his job.
The kid was still in his private infirmary, healing.
He was tempted to make him soak in very salty water and let those wounds burn a while. “She didn’t spot you?”
Alan looked slightly affronted. “I’m a pro. Has any mark ever made me?”
“Don’t get cocky. You do your job.” Baylor smiled slightly. “You’re the only one who’s escaped the whip.”
“I prefer pleasure, not pain,” Caldwell answered.
Baylor nodded. “Did you case the place?”
“Security’s tight,” he answered. “I got as close as I could without having my picture taken. There’s a gatehouse, electric fences, and, if I’m not mistaken, a whole lot more guards than just the uniformed.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Every hired hand looked like a bouncer from a bar in a shady neighborhood.”
“Why so many? Is the guy guarding Fort Knox?”
“Seems like the guy collects medieval weapons and other expensive stuff. The place is supposed to be a friggin’ museum.”
Baylor raised the eyebrow over his uncovered eye. “Do I want to know how you found that out?”
Caldwell grinned. “There was a nice-looking woman in the next driveway, polishing her Mercedes. I struck up a conversation.”
“Ah.” Baylor said. Alan worked out several hours a day and had one of those chiseled, square-jawed faces that women seemed to like, which was an asset he used.
He had no trouble getting women between the sheets.
As he mentioned to Baylor, it was amazing what a woman would tell him when he said he wanted to “cuddle and talk” after sex.
“Do you want me to seduce the mark? I wouldn’t mind,” Caldwell said. “She has nice tits.”
Baylor considered it. He liked women who put up a fight, and he’d bet the one who’d gotten the manuscript would. But better to leave this one alone. At least for now.
Baylor steepled his fingers and thought. Breaking and entering was not a viable solution. Accosting the bitch would do no good. She’d no longer have the document. No doubt it was under lock and key in some vault. He sighed.
“You’re going to have to go in.”
“What’s my cover?”
“Freelancer. You’re doing a magazine article for Guns and Swords. A period piece of ancient weapons.”
“Um. Guns I know. Swords I’ll have to study up on.”
“Use the Internet,” Baylor said and opened a drawer. He removed a small box and slid it toward Caldwell. “GPS tracking device inside. No bigger than a dime. Slip it into the woman’s purse. It won’t hurt to keep posted on her whereabouts. She might come in useful later.”
Caldwell nodded and stood up to leave, slipping the box inside his jacket. At the door he turned. “Just one more thing.”
Baylor looked up from the cigar he was lighting. “What?”
“The guy that you saw at the auction—the one you called the Templar—he was there too.”
Baylor forced his hand to keep hold of the cigar. “He was with her?”
Caldwell shook his head. “Nah. He came later, while I was talking to the neighbor. Just thought you might want to know.”
“Yes. Thank you.” Baylor listened to the door click shut and then blew a smoke ring.
He had thought the Immortal was only at the auction to get de Molay’s Shield—Ramsey had a sentimental streak which was something Baylor couldn’t understand in a man.
But now…if the Templar had followed the bitch to Dallas, then he must know about the Hallows too.
And if he got to them first, he’d put them to use for some altruistic good for the universe.
The power of the Hallows was neutral—the one who owned them directed that power.
Baylor thought of all the years he had spent carefully cultivating the seeds of hate in the Middle East: Jordan, Syria, the Gaza strip, Iraq—damn the Americans for meddling there.
Baghdad was to have been his base of power—but other areas were coming along nicely, and he was working on Nigeria.
But with the Hallows, he could destroy the earth and return to the Isle for the final battle…
Time was suddenly of the essence. Baylor reached for the telephone. He was going to Dallas.
****