Unknown Enemy

“That’s very kind of you. Are you sure it’s no trouble? I do have my own car.”

“None at all, especially if you’ve not visited it yet. It’s a small museum but very well curated. I can point out a few local landmarks between here and there, as well.”

“In that case, lead the way.”

He walked alongside her as she left the Daviau Center, the building that housed her department, and headed toward her car. Ginny noticed that he didn’t walk looking forward as most people tended to—the rest of the way to the car and even on the drive, his visual orientation shifted constantly. Overcome by curiosity, Ginny couldn’t help but ask, “What are you doing? Can’t you sit still?”

Colin’s sharp laugh startled her. “Force of habit. Guess you can take the man out of the Secret Service, but not vice versa.”

“Why’d you leave?”

He grew silent and Ginny wondered if she’d pried too deep. When he spoke, his words were clipped. “Made a mistake, got dismissed. The inquiry is ongoing.”

Ginny mouthed a silent “oh.” What could she say to that? Her curious nature tugged on her to ask for more details, but his rigid posture suggested he wasn’t comfortable with the topic.

As they trotted up the gray, hewn stone steps of the museum, Ginny realized she’d joined Colin in scanning their surroundings. After giving her statement to the police last night, they’d told her to be on the lookout for anything unusual in the days ahead, suggesting that she use the campus Foot Patrol service in the evenings. The advice was practical, but useless. The attack had happened indoors in a building that should have been empty aside from several staff members, not while she wandered alone in a public area or parking lot in the dark.

And the police seemed to have no idea who’d done it or why. Each time she’d turned another corner since last night, she couldn’t help but wonder—what if she was walking into another attack?

* * *

“What are you here for, may I ask?” Colin pushed open the museum doors, glancing behind them at the parking lot for a moment before heading inside. Ginny appeared to be considering his question, a tiny smile appearing at the corner of her mouth. When she met his eyes, they sparkled with a contained excitement. When she spoke, her words were clear and strong. She sounded nothing like the deferential woman he’d spoken with so far today.

“If this goes the way I hope it will, I’ll obtain the resources I need to potentially pinpoint an ancient historical site that archaeologists and historians have been seeking for years.”

“Sounds exciting.”

She lowered her voice, flicking an apologetic glance toward the staff at the entrance. “If it works out and I find it, or at least find enough information to support my theory on the location, I’ll be one step ahead of the other tenure-track candidate at the college. If not, well, I’ll be back at square one with this career and have to start all over again at another school. If I can even find another position. It’s not like colleges these days are lining up in droves to hire in the humanities.”

He kept stride alongside her as she made her way to the curator’s office. “Starting over’s not always a bad thing. In the Service, I moved through a variety of departments and had to start at the bottom each time.” He stopped walking, looked back over his shoulder and then at her. “And now, of course. Can’t say I anticipated this career change. Is this where your meeting will be?”

Ginny nodded and raised an eyebrow. “Expecting someone?”

He rubbed his jawline. “After last night, can’t be too careful is all. Looks like your contact is here. Thanks again for the ride.” He backed up toward a wall of Renaissance paintings as Ginny turned toward a man exiting from the office.

“Professor Anderson?”

Ginny shook the curator’s hand as Colin did his best to appear unobtrusive in the moment. They were engaging in the typical social pleasantries and Colin knew this was his cue to move along, but a nagging in the back of his mind stopped him. He didn’t feel comfortable leaving Miss Anderson by herself, not after the events of last night and what he’d learned this morning.

After a visit to the local police station, he’d learned that the stun grenade tossed inside the library last night had been military issue. It was privileged information, sure, but a few officers on the local force had recognized him as a former Secret Service agent from news reports several years back and had opened up after he’d asked them a few carefully worded questions. Something about the situation didn’t sit right. Nothing in the library had been taken, according to the police. An unprovoked attack on the head librarian and a stun grenade inside a college library held little logic and it worried him.

In fact, crossing the wide-open space of the parking lot to the museum had reminded him just how exposed and vulnerable Ginny Anderson was. Sure, the police didn’t know whom the assailant had actually targeted last night, but he didn’t like not knowing for certain whether the danger to her had passed. Assuming it had could be a terrible mistake, the kind of mistake he knew all about. The kind of mistake that cost other people their lives.

No, it would be a bad idea to leave Ginny on her own. Touring the museum took an easy second place to making sure the lovely professor wasn’t still in serious danger.

THREE

“Your grandchildren are truly adorable,” Ginny commented as the curator closed his wallet and slipped it back into his pocket. The man had been eager to show off photos of his family after she’d politely inquired after their well-being. He was such a kind man who obviously cared about others and his work that she’d been happy to listen before turning their meeting’s focus onto the real reason she’d come to the museum this morning. “I must say, Mr. Wehbe, thank you so much for meeting with me and considering my request. I really do appreciate it.”

“No thanks needed, I’m quite happy to do so. It’s not every day that I meet another local academic interested in ancient history and language. Your predecessor spent precious little time with us here, so I was pleased to oblige.”

Ginny’s hopes skyrocketed. “Was pleased to oblige? I don’t suppose that means you already sent in the request?”

Mr. Wehbe chuckled and waved at something—or someone—in his office. “Like I said, it’s not every day that someone requests that our little museum borrow tablets from the basement of the Ashmore Museum in Oxford, England. Fortunately, as you are no doubt already aware, I’m still on excellent terms with the curator there and visit my former place of employment several times a year. In fact, only last week I was there for a brief conference.”

As Mr. Wehbe spoke, movement at the edge of her vision distracted Ginny from the curator’s words. Colin Tapping stood only a few feet away from where she’d left him, gazing at a reproduction of the Wedding at Cana late-Renaissance painting.

Surprise and confusion flared in Ginny’s senses. Was he eavesdropping on her conversation? She shook her head to dislodge the thought. Maybe he really did have an interest in the artwork. Who was she to think otherwise when she’d just met the man yesterday?

“Professor? Is everything all right?” Mr. Wehbe regarded Ginny with concern.

“Sorry, sorry.” Ginny snapped back to reality. “No doubt you heard about the disturbance on campus at the library last night. I spent most of my evening in the hospital and giving a statement to police, and I’m still a little stunned, I suppose.”

“Oh! I read about it in the paper this morning but somehow I didn’t make the connection. I’m so sorry to hear you were involved. I do hope you take some time to recover. I’m surprised you’re here this morning.”

“I’m fine,” Ginny said, waving his concern off with a pinched smile. After all, she’d truthfully been through much worse in the car accident twenty years ago. “But you were saying?”

“Ah, yes. I’m saying I have the tablets here. I received clearance and was able to bring over the tablets you requested. There is, however, a caveat.”

Ginny gaped at the curator. “They’re here? Right now? And I can study them immediately?”

“Well, yes and no.”

From the curator’s office, a gentleman emerged wearing a well-fitted brown tweed suit and Panama hat and carrying a hefty brown leather satchel. He appeared to be at most in his midforties or early fifties. He strode forward and offered his hand to Ginny as Mr. Wehbe made the introductions.

“Professor Anderson, please meet Dr. Hilden. Hilden, this is the ancient history and language professor I’ve been telling you about. She’s the one working on a theory concerning the location of King Ramesh’s summer palace in the Kingdom of Amar.”

Dr. Hilden smiled warmly and took Ginny’s outstretched hand in a firm handshake while she continued to gape at the both of them, struggling to make sense of the moment. Dr. Hilden? The name sounded vaguely familiar. “Pleased to meet you, Professor Anderson.”

The curator cleared his throat before continuing, a nervous quaver in his voice. “I wanted to be able to clear this with you ahead of time, but Dr. Hilden is here in an official capacity from the University of Amar. He’ll be functioning as a consultant on your work at the request of both the Ashmore Museum and the Amar government. The Amarans were hesitant to approve the request to move the tablets from their safety at Ashmore in England to our little museum in Pennsylvania, but we were able to reach an agreement. Dr. Hilden is a specialist in Amaran history, much like you, but—”

“Less linguistic background.” Dr. Hilden tapped on the brown bag he carried. “I have clearance to hand these select tablets to you so long as they don’t leave the vicinity of the museum or the college at any time. We’ll have you sign a few documents before you head out with them, but ultimately you and I will share responsibility for their safety.”

Ginny couldn’t believe it, for several reasons. As delighted as she was that she’d received approval to study these ancient tablets so quickly, it felt a bit insulting that the Amarans thought she needed a babysitter to care for their precious artifacts. How many papers had she written on Amaran history and language already? She was well-known among her peers for her work in this area. She had nothing but the utmost respect for Amar’s history, and was in fact trying to enrich it with her discovery. But from the sound of things, if she tried to argue her point, Dr. Hilden would be back on an airplane and she’d lose the chance to see the tablets forever, save traveling to the Ashmore Museum in England or the University of Amar. A part-time professor’s salary didn’t exactly allow her extravagances such as jetting off to another country on a moment’s notice.

“Dr. Hilden happened to be at the conference at the Ashmore, as well,” said Mr. Wehbe. “Quite a coincidence, yes? Anyhow, Professor Anderson, I imagine you’d like to get started as soon as possible.”

Contact information was exchanged and Ginny signed what seemed like a novel’s length of documents declaring her responsibility for the artifacts on foreign soil, and she set a meeting with Dr. Hilden for later that afternoon. When the dust from the whirlwind surprise finally began to settle, Ginny found herself standing outside the curator’s office with a satchel full of ancient tablets in hand.

She took two steps forward, prying her attention from the bag, only to discover Colin Tapping stood directly in front of her, arms folded across his chest.

And this time, he did not look pleased.

* * *

“Productive meeting, I assume?” He approached her, nodding at the heavy leather satchel slung over her shoulder.

She frowned at him. “You can’t be finished seeing the museum already. Were you eavesdropping on me?” Her eyebrows pinched together as she tried to step around him.

He fell into step beside her. “No, but I do owe you an explanation.”

She stopped and looked him up and down. “You didn’t come here to see the art at all, did you, Professor Tapping.” Her tone turned flat, making her question a statement.

“I did, honest. And please, stick with Colin. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the professor title.” He held the door open so she could pass through. She’d hoisted up the satchel and clutched it tight to her chest. “But as we arrived, it dawned on me that you may still be in danger. The police aren’t sure where the stun grenade that was thrown last night came from, but the fact that somebody had access to one and used it with possible intent to harm is disconcerting. I hoped you’d allow me to keep an eye out for you on your way back to the campus.”

Ginny didn’t look at him as she carefully traversed the museum steps, gripping the handrail for balance. “The police I spoke to last night suggested Donna may have fainted and hit her head, before the grenade thing. She’ll be in the hospital for a few days to have her condition monitored, but it could have been much worse. I thank God it wasn’t.”

“Agreed. But it doesn’t explain where the grenade came from.”

She stopped at the base of the steps, then turned to face him. “I appreciate your concern, but I don’t feel like I’m in danger. This isn’t an area of town where many exciting things happen, you know?”

Colin paused his ongoing visual scan of the museum grounds and nearby parking lot to focus on the woman standing in front of him. He felt a tug in his chest, part of an ingrained need to protect someone who might be in danger. Twelve years of doing that in various capacities in the Service didn’t simply vanish with the change of position.

“I’m glad to hear that. I also know it’s true that getting hit by a stun grenade can be mentally and physically traumatizing, despite its less-than-lethal status. I know you’ve said you don’t feel like you’re in danger, but I’ve also noticed you looking over your shoulder.”

Ginny shifted her weight and trained her gaze on the sidewalk. “It’s silly, right? It was probably a prank, and now I can’t help but feel like I’m being watched. I keep hearing the metallic clink of that thing hitting the wall, rolling toward us...” She broke off, eyes unfocused.

Colin knew that look. She’d retreated into herself, reliving the moment. “Ginny. Professor Anderson.” He touched her shoulder and her eyes came back into focus, angry at first, then softening as he took his hand away. Her expression, so familiar from last night, reminded him of when he’d accidentally brushed the bumpy red scarring on her cheek. He couldn’t see it now—she’d pulled some of her hair up into a messy bun and left the rest to frame her face.

“It’s going to be all right.” He tried to smile to put her at ease, but the gesture felt tight and insincere. “I won’t lie to you, though. I do worry that you might be in danger and I’d like to look out for you, since I have the training and ability to do so. At least until the police have more information on what happened last night.”

She shook her head. “I don’t need another babysitter.”

“Another? Well, I’m not suggesting you do. It makes me nervous that we may have an individual on or around campus with access to serious weaponry, though.”

Ginny scoffed and stepped away from him, continuing her journey toward the parking lot and her car. “I think you’re blowing this out of proportion. We don’t have all the facts and you’re acting like there’s some big scheme at play to hurt me. Need I remind you that the librarian is the one in the hospital, not me?”

“Under constant surveillance from hospital staff. It’s not my intention to cause unnecessary stress, but I want to be up-front with you about my concerns.”

She pressed her lips together, then sighed. “I’m only going from here to my office for now. I teach a class later today and I have a meeting with a historical consultant from the Kingdom of Amar. Then I’ll probably go to the library if it’s reopened, and head home. That’s it. Everywhere will be public, and I’ll bring a Foot Patrol student along if I need to go anywhere after dark or into any locked-up areas. Does that sound safe enough?”

Under normal circumstances, yes, but if his time in the Secret Service’s Presidential Protection Division had taught him anything, it was that threats tended to lurk where the average person least expected them.

“Not particularly. At least let me see you back to campus safely.” He noticed she’d begun straining under the weight of the large satchel in her arms. “Can I carry that bag to your car for you?”

She shook her head and tightened her grip around it. “That’s the first sensible thing you’ve said in the past few minutes, but no. I can’t allow you to carry it. I’m under agreement with the museum that I will not allow the bag to leave my person unless it’s locked up safely in my department’s archaeology lab. And it can’t go beyond the grounds of the museum or college. It’s kind of you to offer, though.”

“What’s so important about the bag?” A growing frustration at her lack of urgency took over and he flicked two fingers against the bag’s handles. He realized his mistake the moment his fingers made contact. Ginny glared at him and it occurred to him that he’d just done the same thing to her that she’d done to him—dismissed her expertise about handling her chosen profession. “Ginny, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Have a lovely day, Mr. Tapping. I assume you can find your way back to campus.”

He watched as she headed toward her car, her steps sure and confident. He’d handled that in all the wrong ways, and she was under no obligation to accept his offer to look out for her. It was never easy to protect someone who didn’t want protecting. He’d have to make a compromise here and keep an eye on her from a distance for today. As soon as she was safely inside her car, he’d run back to the college—he could use the opportunity to scope out potential threat areas, anyway—and rejoin her in her office to try apologizing again.

The woman had to be feeling bruised and battered after last night, so he couldn’t blame her for becoming irritated by his assertions. Clearly whatever she had inside that satchel held enough importance for her to ignore the pain, get out of bed and haul herself down to the museum.

Colin continued to scan the area until Ginny reached her car at the edge of the parking lot. He began to relax as she made her way to the passenger side of the little blue hatchback—to secure the heavy bag on the seat beside her, he guessed—but the loud roar of an engine springing to life somewhere nearby sent him back into alert mode.

And then he saw it. A white cube van sped down the parking lot aisle, right toward Ginny.

FOUR

Colin’s stomach lurched, first out of concern for how fast the driver was going in a parking lot, and then a second time when he grew sure the van wasn’t headed toward an exit. It sped toward Ginny, who had her back to the parking lot as she secured her bags in the car.

Colin didn’t waste time asking why or how or whether his suspicion even made sense. He sprang toward her with a burst of speed, grateful he’d kept up his physical training despite being out of the Service these past few years. If only he had his sidearm on hand, he’d have the van incapacitated in seconds without breaking a sweat. Short sprints and lightning-fast reaction times made all the difference when on protective detail.

It took a fraction of a second for Colin to recognize that he was too far away to reach her in time. He kept sprinting as the cube van pulled alongside her. The side door slid open and a man with a black hood pulled low over his face jumped out of the van and grabbed Ginny’s waist from behind.

Colin shouted a split second before Ginny’s scream rent the air. The man pulled her out of the car and covered her mouth, but her hands remained latched to the ceiling grab handle above the door. Smart woman, Colin thought. Her quick reaction would buy him enough time to reach her.

Except that when he drew within several yards of the van, a second hooded assailant jumped out. He pointed a gun in Colin’s direction, but Colin was too close and the man’s reaction time too slow. Colin ducked as he approached, hoping that the hoodlum didn’t have the foresight to fire. He grabbed the gunman’s wrist, then yanked it in toward his chest and twisted, forcing the gun down and out of the man’s hand. The gun clattered to the ground as Colin used the force of an upper-elbow blow to send the man reeling backward, clutching his jaw.

He risked a glance at Ginny, who—on seeing Colin’s approach—had released her grip on the car and twisted around in her attacker’s grasp to claw at the man’s face. The man now had her wrists locked in his meaty hands as Ginny attempted to kick at him anywhere she could reach.

Colin heard shouts from inside the van—there were more of these guys inside?—but he couldn’t afford for it to split his focus further. He kicked the gun on the ground toward a row of parked cars and in two strides had gripped the man attacking Ginny by the neck. He wrenched the attacker away from her, throwing him to the ground with practiced efficiency.

The man rolled as he dropped, leaped to his feet and shouted at his companion to retreat. Both assailants scrambled back inside the van, sliding the door closed as it peeled out of the parking lot, tires squealing.

Colin whirled around to make sure Ginny was all right, but she already leaned against the car with her phone in her hand. “Calling 911?”

She nodded as the operator picked up. With exceptional calm, she told them exactly what had happened and hung up. “Police will be here soon.”

He noticed that she too breathed heavily from the exertion moments ago. He was in shape, sure, but an encounter like that took the wind out of anyone, and they were both having trouble catching their breath.

“Are you hurt? Let’s get you sitting down inside the car, all right? Get a few minutes of rest before the emergency teams arrive.”

“I’m okay,” she said, the calm facade slipping as the adrenaline of the moment faded. “Oh, wow. I can’t believe that just happened.”

Colin reached into the passenger side of the car, unhooked the bag she’d been carrying and placed it on the driver’s seat. She didn’t protest as he guided her to sit inside the car, her tremble growing to a full-body shake as the seconds passed. She regarded him with wide, frightened eyes. “Take deep breaths, Ginny. This will pass, but what I need you to do right now is visualize everything that happened. Grab on to details, any small details that you can. Anything at all will help the police find and catch them, got it? I know you want to forget, but the more you can capture in your memory right after this incident, the more accurately you’ll be able to tell them what happened.”

She nodded, swallowing hard before leaning back against the beige car seat. “Guess I should have taken the day off after all.”

“Better to have this happen here than at your home, though.”

She sat up in surprise. “At home? You don’t think this was random? I guess not, considering.”

Colin glanced around the area, staying watchful in case the van had circled around and come back. He didn’t see anything aside from a few startled museum visitors who’d likely witnessed the incident. The familiar wail of emergency sirens rose in the distance. “I think we can rule out random at this point.” His gaze was drawn to the bag she’d been carrying. “I’d say now is a better time than ever to finish the conversation we started earlier. What’s in the bag?”

Ginny laughed without humor. “Nothing worth kidnapping over, that’s for sure. They’re a bunch of old clay tablets from one of the Kingdom of Amar’s archaeological sites. They’ve been sitting in the basement of a museum in England for decades, waiting to be translated. It’s part of a project I’ve been working on for a while. I’m planning to decipher them in hopes that they reveal some more information about the location of the summer palace of King Ramesh.”

Kidnapping and ancient tablets? It sounded more like a movie than real life. “Is there, I don’t know, treasure there?”