The Secret of the Stones by Ernest Dempsey (reading fiction .TXT) 📕

cup onto a small end table that was positioned between the two sofa chairs.

She returned the smirk with one of her own. “Fair enough. So, how about you tell me the details of your escapades down in Peru? What exactly went on down there? I’ve heard some pretty interesting bits and pieces from that little adventure.”

Again, he took on a half-embarrassed appearance. “I’m sure most of what you might have heard was somewhat exaggerated. It was a pretty uneventful trip.”

Something in his gray eyes told her that he wasn’t telling the truth. “Really?  Because I seem to remember hearing something about an altercation with some South American drug cartel.”

He was a terrible bluffer, and he knew it.  His uncomfortable wriggling probably didn’t help. “Ms. Webster, I’m not sure what you heard, but I don’t think any of that really matters. We went in, got the artifact we were looking for, then donated it to the Peruvian government. Of course, we did accept a small reward for locating and delivering the piece.”

“Of course,” she added, her face stoic and cynical. “But why don’t you just tell me about what really happened down there?”

He leaned in closer toward her. The scent of her curly hair smelled like apples mingled with a slightly sweet perfume; vanilla perhaps. With the way her head was tilted, the rich brown curls cascaded off of her shoulder. There must have been a school for professional women to attend just to make their hair do that. Sean tried to ignore his heightened sense of attraction by taking another gulp of latte.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what you think you heard about the expedition in Peru, but, I assure you, it wasn’t really that exciting, except from a historical discovery perspective.”

“Are you trying to tell me that there wasn’t a run-in with any drug smugglers down there and that you weren’t taken captive by their leader only to narrowly escape and get away with some statue that you had been looking for?” She took a long breath of air.

Sean continued squirming in his chair. “Again, Ms. Webster, I’d rather not comment on the specifics of some of our expeditions. The one to Peru had a few snags along the way, but everyone came out fine.  The Peruvians were able to retrieve an enormous part of their history due to the IAA’s assistance.  They were very grateful, I might add.”

She could see there was no getting him to talk, even though he was clearly leaving something out.

Changing the subject, she asked, “Is it true that you were in some kind of special government operations unit after you went to college?”

Again, his face turned red, and he could not seem to get situated in his seat.  She was good. “I’m afraid that I can’t tell you that, Ms. Webster.”

The way that he said her name made her blush, just slightly. “And why is that? Because you’d have to kill me?”

“Something like that.”

“So what can you tell me?”

“I can tell you that the IAA has recovered lost artifacts for over twenty different governments. We span the globe, looking for what others do not. I guess you could say that we dig where no one else does.”

“Why the gun then?” She motioned with a nod toward his khaki jacket that had fallen open just enough to reveal the .40-caliber Ruger he always carried.

He pulled the jacket around, covering the piece. “That’s mine. We don’t have standard agency-issued weapons, if that’s what you’re thinking. Got a permit for it, if it bothers you.”

“What bothers me, Mr. Wyatt, is that there are stories going around about all kinds of stuff that your organization has been involved with, but you won’t throw me a bone.” She huffed and her face flushed red. His dodgy answers were exasperating.

“What can I say?  I don’t like to kiss and tell.”

Allyson let out a frustrated sigh. This interview had been pointless. She stuffed her notepad into her laptop bag and grabbed her coffee as she stood.

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Wyatt. But this has been a waste of mine. Sorry for the inconvenience.”

“Not at all,” he stood with her. “I was going to come here for coffee anyway. At least let me walk you out.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

“I insist.” He extended his hand politely.

Not agreeing but not disagreeing either, she simply headed for the door. Sean fell right into line behind her then quickly extended his arm to open the door for her. She shot him an angry glance, not about to thank him for the seemingly long-lost courtesy.

Defiant, she strode quickly to her black four-door Honda Civic and beeped the alarm off as she approached the driver’s side door.

Again, Sean reached out to open the door for her, but this time, she beat him to it. “Thanks again, Mr. Wyatt. Have a nice…”

Her face changed suddenly as she noticed two men in black suits walking toward them from across the pavement. About halfway there, they simultaneously reached into their jackets, removing black pistols.

Sean saw her eyes grow large at whatever she was seeing on the other side of the lot. His reaction was instantaneous; years of government training and field missions kicked in. With a surprising amount of force, he shoved Allyson into the front seat of the car.

“Stay down!” He barked the order quickly.

In another fluid motion, he whirled behind the open car door and pulled it all the way forward, shielding himself from the two gunmen. In another second, he’d ripped his own weapon from inside his jacket. Silent pops pounded the door in front of him as bullets blasted the plastic and leather interior.

They had sound suppressors. His own weapon, unfortunately, would not be so discreet. Risking a peek around the edge of the door, he saw