Page 119 of Eternal Surrender

Resting on the right of his desk, the antique black rotary phone rang.

“Excuse me.” His eyebrows twitched as he listened into the receiver. The phone chimed its disapproval when he hung up. “I’ll be right back.” He rose and headed for the door behind his desk.

Ingrid waited for him to exit and then shifted in her seat to face me, lowering her voice. “What do you think?”

“About what exactly?” I asked, annoyed.

“Well, what is he⁠—”

I snapped my hand up to stop her question and whispered, “We’re probably being watched.”

“You’re paranoid.”

“He was recalling with fondness how it was once legal to hang, draw and quarter.”

“Really?”

“No, wait. . . that was me.” I pulled her up and out of her chair and nudged her across the room into a corner and gestured she must whisper. “You’ll get us both killed and by the looks of things you’re going first.” I glanced over toward the glass of water on the desk, poured by Alistair for Ingrid upon her arrival.

“You’re not seriously suggesting⁠—”

“Drink it and let’s find out,” I said.

“You still haven’t told me what he’s thinking.”

“He blocked his thoughts.”

“What does that mean?”

“What do you think it means?” I snapped.

“See, this place is important.” She headed toward the leather recliner and reached for the briefcase leaning up against the chair and flicked the latches. She rummaged, nudging his spectacle case out of the way. She removed a leather-bound book.

I grabbed it from her and flipped through the pages. I glanced at the door. “He’s coming back.”

Ingrid snatched the book from me and shoved it into her coat pocket and then sat again.

Alistair strolled in, his mind so quiet that I questioned whether he was thinking at all, and his expression so blank he’d have seemed serene if it weren’t for the way his eyes burned with suspicion. “Looks like a tour won’t be possible, I’m afraid.”

“Why?” asked Ingrid.

“We have a visiting dignitary, and apparently, he’s running early.” Alistair glanced at his wristwatch again.

Ingrid rose. “I’ll be back with a warrant.”

“I think you’ll find one hard to get, my dear,” he said.

She rested her fingers on the desk tapping away half distracted. “And why is that?”

His lips thinned. “You’ll have a challenge getting anyone to sign it.”

She threw me a glance. “We’ll see.”

“Next time make an appointment,” he said.

“Tell me, Alistair,” she sounded fierce, “what would your members want with an Egyptian mummy?”

“Are you familiar with the term etiquette?” Alistair’s tone was scathing.