American Heroes Series - 01 - Resurrection (5 page)

“If you say so,” he said.

“No worries. Good luck.”

“Talk to you later.”

The man with the empty beer watched Joseph disappear into the cluttered booths that filled Olvera Street.  Like a stubborn mule, Nat Payne knew he was going to have to kick Joseph a few times to get him into the rhythm.  He’d never been as enthusiastic about this as the rest of them.

They had come too far to let the primary focus of their objective get cold feet.

***

Ethan stood looking at The Lucius Robe for the longest time. He couldn’t explain it, but there had been an odd sense of déjà vu since the moment he first saw it. Something about it struck a chord in him, something deep in his chest, to the point of making his palms sweat.  It was extremely odd but something he attributed to the rumor of the robe’s origin. It was a pretty fascinating piece of work. It took him a long time to move away from it and inspect the rest of the exhibit.

If Cydney and Stu noticed the FBI agent’s fascination with The Lucius Robe, they didn’t say a word about it. As Serreaux and Lowell moved through the exhibit to more closely inspect it, Cydney and Stu followed them around, hoping they weren’t going to have to rebuild the entire Resurrection exhibit because the FBI thought the security measures were too lax. But the agents didn’t say a word about the cases or security measures at the moment; they were still deep into their assessment. 

Stu was obviously impatient, but Cydney kept her cool, waiting for the men to conclude their findings. Being so close to relics all the time, she often lost her perspective of wonder about them.  She had to remember that those not in the business were still captivated by two thousand year old objects.

“Incredible.” Serreaux finally unfolded himself from where he had been huddled over a case filled with Roman coins and turned to Cydney. “So you’re telling me that these coins have the head of Pontius Pilate?”

Cydney nodded. “They do indeed. Pretty cool stuff.”

Serreaux smiled with agreement; he had an incredibly attractive smile of straight, white teeth. “Very cool.”

Stu was watching the exchange; he didn’t like the way the FBI agent smiled at Cydney. In fact, he hadn’t liked anything about the guy from the moment he had met him that morning. Too much testosterone in the same room tended to make the double Y chromosome human beings bitter adversaries, like Neanderthals competing for mating rights. This guy was in Stu’s territory and the man wasn’t taking it well.

Oblivious to Stu’s mental chest-beating, Cydney led them into the next gallery where the exhibit spread into the less spectacular relics. A pot here, an ancient pair of shoes there, both excavated from the Biblical city of Jericho.  She pointed them out and Serreaux and Lowell went to investigate.

She watched the agents inspect the collection, still trying to gage how she felt about the situation. She had fallen asleep with Serreaux and his prophesy of doom on her mind and had awoken to the very same thought. Only her thoughts seemed to center more around Serreaux himself than the message he bore. For eight years, she’d struggled against the idea of male companionship of any sort. To replace Brad was just too painful. Now, she felt odd and uncomfortable with the attractive agent on her mind.  It was ridiculous, she told herself. She didn’t even know anything about him.

“They’re more interested in the collection than in the robe,” Stu muttered. “They said something about helping us review security. When do they plan to start doing that?”

“They’re probably reviewing it right now,” she replied. “Do you think they’re really just looking at the collection because they like the pretty colors? I’m sure they’re checking out the details of the cases, among other things.”

Stu grunted. Cydney passed a long look at him, noticing his displeasure for the first time that morning. He seemed all coiled up.

“What’s wrong with you?” she asked.

He looked like an angry kid. “Nothing. I just think it’s stupid that they’re here. Since when does the FBI get involved in the threat of a theft?”

“They told you the same thing they told me.”

“I know.”

“And I had the same question.”

“I know, I know,” he was beginning to get testy with her. “It’s just… hell, did anyone even check their credentials? All they flashed us was in identification card. Do we even really know they are who they say they are?”

Cydney shook her head. “I haven’t had time and I’m sure Milt hasn’t done it. Maybe you should slip away and see what you can find out.”

“Hallelujah,” he muttered. “Finally, words of wisdom. If you don’t need me to baby sit with you, I’ll go see what I can do.”

Cydney watched him walk off towards the elevator that would take him down to the business offices.  She understood his annoyance at having the agents at the museum, stepping on his toes. But Stu wasn’t usually the irritated type; he was the most easy-going man she had ever met.

Thoughts of Stu’s demeanor aside, she continued to watch over the agents as they perused the collection.  She found her gaze drawn more to Serreaux’s butt in his dress slacks. It was nice and round. She had to keep looking away.  But then she’d look back and think that Special Agent Lowell had a nice butt, too, but not nearly so nice as Serreaux’s.  Feeling incredibly ridiculous, she wandered up next to them in an attempt to pay more attention to what they were looking at rather than focusing on their male backsides.

“What you’re looking at here are the remains of a first century crucifixion,” she said, as if they couldn’t read the sign on the case. “Those are someone’s ankle bones. Nasty way to die.”

Serreaux simply nodded, glancing at her, his eyes lingering on her. There was curious warmth there, like tendrils, reaching out to inspect her. Startled, mesmerized, Cydney took a step back, away from the case. Maybe standing behind him and staring at his backside was a better idea.

As Cydney tried to regroup, Anne-Michelle came up the stairs in the center of the lobby. Her gaze fell on Cydney and she made her way to her. Cydney smiled weakly at the curator, glad to be distracted from the agent.

“Good morning,” Anne-Michelle said.  Her brown eyes lingered on the two men at the display case. “Our FBI guys?”

“That’s them.”

“I heard all about it from Walt.  What are they doing?”

Cydney shrugged. “Looking at the relics, I guess. Also inspecting the security of the cases, I would think.”

Anne-Michelle nodded her head. After a moment, she leaned into Cydney and lowered her voice.

“I was able to get a hold of the curator for the Bristol Museum early this morning,” she said. “I didn’t tell him what we thought we saw, or course, but I made up some story and asked if we might remove the robe from the case and non-invasively examine it.”

“And?”

“He said he would prefer we didn’t. The acrylic case is hermetically sealed and he’s afraid what the open air might do to the fiber of the robes.”

Cydney thought a moment. “I’m no expert, of course, but realistically, how long would it take for the material to show any effects of exposure if we were to remove it from the case?”

Anne-Michelle cocked her head thoughtfully. “Probably a few days.”

“We could remove that tooth in a few seconds.”

The Curator shook her head. “Honestly, I should be fired for even thinking of violating a contract like that. But if I didn’t think there was an undeniably good reason, I wouldn’t have made the attempt.  I don’t want to do anything illegal or unethical.”

“So what do we do?”

“I’m not sure. I’ll have to think about it. I may have to call the curator back and divulge what we thought we saw. It might be enough of a prompting to gain his permission to examine it.”

“Why didn’t you tell him the first time?”

She looked at Cydney as if the woman had gone mad. “Tell him we thought we saw a tooth? Christ’s tooth? He’d think I’d gone nuts.”

“But we did see a tooth.”

“And that’s another thing. The Bristol Museum has had it for a while. Why didn’t any of their personnel see it?”

Cydney shrugged. “I don’t know. But if you don’t figure out a way to remove that robe and get a hold of that tooth, I guarantee you that Olivia will be down here on the weekend to find a way to bust into that acrylic.”

“Your daughter is going to make a great terrorist.”

“You’re telling me.”

Stu joined them, having just come off the elevator from the lower administrative floor. He didn’t look pleased.

“What’s up, Stu?” Cydney asked.

His blue eyes were locked on the two agents. “I just talked to Walt. He said he was contacted by the FBI field office in West Los Angeles and that these guys are legit.”

“Then why the long face?” Anne-Michelle asked.

“Stu is upset because he doesn’t get to throw them out,” Cydney told her, winking at Stu when he glared at her.  “Oh, lighten up, Stu. You’re still the big man around here.”

As Stu wandered away, towards the two agents as if stalking them, Cydney decided to leave Anne-Michelle and follow her security chief.  The two of them came upon the agents just as the men were turning away from the crucifixion case.

“Well,” Serreaux began, “it looks like everything is well thought out. You’ve done a good job.”

“Thanks,” Cydney said.  An awkward silence settled and she spoke again. “Look, I don’t mean to be nosey, but can you tell me more about these zealots? I would really like to know what we may be up against. I think it’s only fair.”

Serreaux gazed at her, the split-second of silence confirming what she had suspected the night before; he knew more than what he was telling her. She wanted answers and she wanted the truth.

“Please?” she begged quietly, lifting her eyebrows for emphasis.

Ethan watched her expression, noting the delicate lift of the brow and the way her hazel eyes glistened. In fact, he’d done little else but check her out since nearly the moment he met her.

 Cydney Hetherington had been nothing that he had expected. Although he wasn’t sure what he had expected as head of museum operations, a gorgeous blond hadn’t been an option.  From the bottom of her pretty feet to the top of her spectacular blond head, she looked like an angel.  That was his first thought when he had laid eyes on her last night.  Everything about the woman was perfect. He particularly liked the sound of her voice; soft and low and sultry like an actress from old Hollywood. It was very, very sexy.  The longer he stared at her, the more he could feel himself relenting. Maybe she was right.

After a moment, he nodded his head.

“Let’s go to your office,” he said softly, throwing a look over his shoulder to Lowell, who was still studying the contents of the case. “I’ll be right back.”

Stu tried to follow them but Serreaux waved him off.  Furious, Stu struggled not to demand that he be allowed to go. Just short of throwing a temper tantrum in the middle of the gallery, he stormed off in the opposite direction and disappeared into another wing.

Lowell, somewhat caught in the middle of the power play, wasn’t unaware of the security chief’s reaction but he was more interested in watching Serreaux follow the hot museum director to the elevator. He wasn’t oblivious to the way Ethan had looked at the woman, both last night and today.  He’d known Ethan Serreaux for nine years; for four of those years they had been partners. Since Ethan’s ex-wife had left him eight years ago, taking their young son with her back to the east coast, Ethan had not been a particularly joyful man to be around. There was something inherently bitter about him, especially towards women. 

Lowell shook his head faintly and turned back to the case, hoping wherever they were going and whatever was going to be said, that Ethan would not drive yet another woman to tears. He was particularly good at that when the mood struck him.

Cydney was oblivious to that particular personality trait of Special Agent Serreaux as they took the elevator down to the bottom floor in silence.  When the doors opened, she led him down the long, cold, concrete hallway until they reached her office. 

Entering the room, it smelled slightly rotted, evidence of the rain they’d had the previous night that had seeped into the walls of the basement. The concrete was porous and soaked up the ground water like a sponge; hence, it always smelled like a swamp.

Cydney ignore the smell, indicating her guest chair as she rounded her desk. “Have a seat,” she told him. “Can I get you some coffee or water?”

“Thank you, no,” Ethan replied. “Mind if I take off my coat?”

Cydney shook her head, eyeing him as he peeled off his expensive suit jacket and laid it across the other chair.  She tried not to stare at his arms, the muscles straining against the dress shirt.  The man had a seriously muscular build on him but she tore her eyes away, furiously at herself for taking any interest. But it made her cheeks warm simply to think about those muscular arms. Sitting down in her chair, she faced him with a certain degree of self-preservation.

“I didn’t know anyone wore suits anymore,” she commented.

Ethan gave her a crooked smile as he made sure the coat draped so it wouldn’t wrinkle. “The Bureau is still old-school that way,” he said. “I’ve got a suit for every day of the week.”

“Your mother must be proud.”

It was a surprising attempt at humor; his smile broke through and he chuckled softly.

“Yes, my mother and father are extremely proud of my ability to dress appropriately,” he settled his big frame into the chair. “Now,” he took a deep breath as he composed his thoughts. “What more, exactly, do you want to know about this situation? I’ve told you as much as I can.”

She lifted a well-shaped brow as her smile faded. “You may have told me as much as you can, but you certainly haven’t told me all that you know.” She held up a hand before he could perjure himself. “I can see it in your expression every time we discuss it. You’ve got a good poker face; I’ll give you credit. But it’s
too
good, if you know what I mean. You’re too emotionless to be totally convincing.”

A smile played on his lips. “I think you have an active imagination.”