American Heroes Series - 01 - Resurrection (6 page)

His statement should have infuriated her, but instead, she found herself fighting off a grin again just because he was.

 “Bull,” she snapped softly. “What do you think I’m going to do? Tell the enemy everything you tell me to make their job easier when they try to rob my museum? I think it’s unfair for you not to tell me absolutely everything you know so at least we know what we’re up against.”

He sat back in his chair casually, his dark eyes fixed on her. “And do what?”

“What do you mean?”

“Just that,” he insisted with a flick of his hand. “Even if you know everything, is that going to make your security tighter or your people better able to deal with it?”

“It might.”

He held her gaze a moment longer, realizing that he was thinking about more than just her question. He was thinking of the soft pout of her lips and the way her eyelashes brushed against her brow bone. He was thinking about just how beautiful she really was. He already knew he was going to answer her question; he was just debating how much to tell her without frightening her.

“All right,” he finally said, sitting forward in the chair. “Fair enough. I will answer your questions specifically but I won’t volunteer any more information than necessary. So what’s your first question?”

His response puzzled her slightly but she didn’t take the time to analyze it; she was afraid he might rescind his offer.

“Is the threat against us specifically or just general?” she asked. “Last night you mentioned zealots. Any zealots in particular?”

He nodded. “Yes.”

“Who?”
He cocked his head slightly. “They call themselves
Die Auhänger
.”

Her brow furrowed as she translated the words; having worked in museums for much of her adult life, it was necessary to have a working knowledge of several languages, German included. 

“The Disciples?”

“Yes.”

She stared at him. “Like… like Jesus’ disciples?”

He nodded slowly. “Yes.”

“So they want the robe because it’s rumored to have belonged to Jesus?”

“Sort of.”

“What do you mean ‘sort of’? You said someone was going to try and steal it.”

He could see that she was growing agitated and he put up a calming hand.

“They want the robe because it is their intention, we believe, to bring on a new Holy Roman Empire, one that uses holy relics to feed its followers,” he watched the emotions ripple across her beautiful face. “Nothing is more powerful than a holy relic to a devoted believer. Such things could raise armies of millions. Intelligence leads us to believe that they want this robe to crown a new holy roman emperor and, being religious zealots, they’ll stop at nothing to get it.”

There it was; the simple, straight forward truth. Cydney stared at him, mouth agape. “Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

She stared at him a moment longer before letting out a hiss. “Oh, my God,” she breathed. “That sounds like something out of a novel. Are you sure about all of this?”

He was amused at her disbelief. “Pretty sure,” he probably shouldn’t have told her any more but he found himself doing so. “They plan to call their empire
‘Der viert Reich de Erieuchtung
,’ or The Fourth Reich of Enlightenment. It’s their goal to crown a new Holy Roman Emperor, take over Europe and create a new empire.” His humor abruptly faded and he sat forward in the chair, his dark eyes suddenly very hard. “Mrs. Hetherington, I know this seems far-fetched, but believe me when I tell you that it is a real enough threat that the FBI considers it extremely serious. I wouldn’t be here if they didn’t.  Therefore, it would make my job considerably easier if you stop asking so many questions and just trust that I know what needs to be done.  And that goes for your ex-Marine security chief, too. I don’t need that guy chest-beating every time I get around him. I need your cooperation and will accept nothing less or this could be a very bad situation for all of us.”

All of the good humor they had experienced over the past few minutes was gone. Cydney sensed hardness and borderline hostility from him and struggled not to be offended by it.

“I will give you all of the cooperation you require,” she said steadily. “But if this so serious, then why doesn’t the FBI have more men on the case?”

His dark eyes remained hard a moment longer before oddly easing. “We will,” he assured her. “Starting Thursday, we’re going to have about a dozen agents on the grounds, watching every move. You’ll never see them, of course. They’ll blend in like ordinary visitors so if something goes down we’ll be able to get a handle on it quickly.”

“Why didn’t you tell me any of this before?”

“Because I was sent to scope this out and based upon my report as of today, the FBI is going to be heavily involved.” He jerked his head in the direction of the galleries above him. “No offense, Mrs. Hetherington, but your little museum isn’t built to withstand an attack from boy scouts much less people who really want to do some damage. I think you need help and that’s exactly what I’m going to tell my superiors.” 

She sighed, half-insulted, half in agreement. “What about my security people?” she wanted to know. “I told you last night that they’re mostly retirees and college students. I don’t want anyone getting hurt.”

“No one will if they do what I tell them,” he told her. “I’ll be here Thursday morning before the galleries open to brief your people.”

“And Stu?” she asked. “He can handle a gun. Should he be packing a weapon?”

Ethan shook his head. “No, definitely not,” he replied. “Someone might mistake him for a bad guy. Remember that my people will only know their fellow agents. They won’t have any idea who some big guy with a gun is and he might get hurt.”

Cydney nodded silently. She was beginning to feel like the situation was slipping out of her hands and she didn’t like it one bit.  She was protective of her employees and Serreaux threatened to take that control away. Without anything more to say, she simply nodded and lowered her gaze, pretending to focus on her desk, her computer, anything to avoid looking at him.  She found herself wishing he would just go away.

“Thank you for your honesty, Special Agent Serreaux,” she said, although she didn’t sound like she meant it. “As I said, you will have the museum’s full cooperation.”

She was ending the conversation but Ethan wasn’t going anywhere.  He watched her fidget with her desk, a pen, pretending to be busy when he knew very well that she wasn’t. He thought that perhaps she needed some time alone to digest everything he had told her. He dutifully rose from the chair and collected his suit coat.

“If you have any other questions, I’ll be around here most of the day observing the layout,” he told her, digging in his pocket to produce a business card. He laid it on her desk. “My cellular phone number is on the card. You can call me.”

She passed a glance at the card. “Cell phones don’t work in this building. No reception.”

“Keep it anyway.” He put his coat on and moved to the door. “Thanks for your time, Mrs. Hetherington.”

“Stop calling me that,” Cydney suddenly burst, embarrassed as the words left her mouth. She tried not to look sheepish as she recovered. “I… just Cydney will do.”

Ethan paused at the door. “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to offend you. Mr. Hemeshuk called you Mrs. Hetherington. Isn’t that your name?”

Cydney was feeling irritated, disoriented, wishing fervently that he would just leave. He had her rattled and her defenses weren’t as strong as they usually were. She found herself speaking before she could stop herself.

“Not anymore,” she muttered, logging on to her email in an attempt to busy herself. “You can call me Cydney and just leave it at that.”

Ethan knew it wasn’t his business to follow up on her comment. The way she said it had a painful ring to it.
Must be a divorce,
he thought to himself,
but what idiot would divorce a woman like that?
With a lingering glance at her blond head, he left her office and quietly closed the door behind him. 

When Cydney was positive he was gone, she lowered her head and struggled not to cry.

CHAPTER FOUR

“Mom!” Olivia was dancing around in Cydney’s office. “Come on. What are you doing?”

Cydney was finishing an email to a museum patron, an elderly gentleman who visited almost daily and had unofficially adopted Cydney as his next wife.  Somehow he had gotten her email address and sent her notes constantly.  Everyone laughed about it but Cydney had to be careful about how she handled the man, considering he donated tens of thousands of dollars to the museum every year.  She didn’t want to tick off a source of revenue.

“Coming,” she muttered, hitting the ‘send’ button. Standing up, she put her hands on her hips and watched her daughter wriggle uncontrollably. “Good lord, Liv; you act like you’re going backstage at a concert.”

Olivia didn’t have time for her mother’s delays.  She grabbed the woman by the hand and began to yank her from her office.

“Mrs. Marquez is waiting in the car in the parking lot,” she told her mom. “I told her that I would only be a half hour.”

“And that’s another thing,” Cydney followed her daughter into the cold hallway. “I can’t believe you coerced that sweet old woman to drive all the way over here.  She does enough just picking you up from school.”

Olivia apparently didn’t have the same concern her mother did. “Mrs. Marquez has no kids and no life. She doesn’t mind driving me over here.”

Cydney pursed her lips in disapproval. “Little did my unsuspecting neighbor know when I asked her to pick you up from that she was reducing herself to a life of servitude to a selfish young girl.”

“You said I could see the robe today.”

“Yes, I did, but I didn’t say hijack the neighbor’s car to get here.”

“How else was I supposed to get here?”     

“That’s not the point.”

“Can I come see it tomorrow at the grand opening, too?”

Cydney just growled at her.  Olivia pulled her mother the length of the cold, cement hallway to the elevator that led up to the galleries.  Olivia pushed the “Up” button about a dozen times before the door finally creaked open, admitting the excited girl and her mother.  Olivia twitched and fidgeted until the elevator opened again and spit them both out into the main gallery.

Olivia knew the museum layout like the back of her hand. She had been coming to her mother’s work since she was very young, at a time when she considered it very boring. Now was not the case.  When she looked at her mother eagerly, Cydney pointed in the direction of the west gallery and Olivia was off like a shot.

The western gallery was the largest gallery in the building, painted in a muted gold tone with a dramatic plaster ceilings and specially-coated skylights that blocked the UV rays to protect the artwork.  Olivia walked, very quickly, into the gallery, to the far end where the Resurrection exhibit was set up. She was so excited that she wasn’t paying attention to where she was going. Abruptly rounding a corner, she plowed into Ethan Serreaux.

He was just exiting the gallery after having done a final walk-through of analysis and logistics. When she bounced off of him, he grabbed her quickly so she wouldn’t fall back against something priceless.

“Whoa, there,” he peered down at the young lady, now rubbing her smashed nose. “Are you all right?”

Olivia cast him an annoyed look. “I’m fine,” she mumbled. “Sorry.”

He let go of her, his dark eyes moving over her fine-featured face. “You’re Cydney Hetherington’s daughter, aren’t you?”

Olivia nodded. “How did you know that?”

“Because I saw you last night at your house.”

“Oh,” Olivia was surprised he recognized her; he had only caught a fleeting glimpse of her before she had bolted into hiding. She stopped rubbing her nose long enough to study him. “I remember you, too. You’re the FBI guy.”

“That’s right.”

“Are you really with the FBI?”

He gave her a half-grin. “Don’t you believe me? Do you think I just walk around at night giving women that line and hope they’ll let me into their home?”

She snorted. “No,” she said almost mockingly. “I’ve just never met anyone who works for the FBI.  I have been thinking about joining when I get out of college.”

His dark eyebrows lifted. “Is that so?” he crossed his big arms thoughtfully. “What college are you planning on attending?”

“Which one did you attend?”

“University of Michigan.”

She lost some of her smug expression. “Really?” she was genuinely interested. “I have been thinking about University of Michigan. But I really want to go to Harvard.”

He wriggled his eyebrows. “I hope your grades are good.”

Now she was insulted. “I graduated Valedictorian of my eighth grade,” she flatly informed him. “And I have gotten straight A’s ever since.  I’m taking two AP classes right now.”

“What grade are you in?”

“I’m a sophomore.”

“Wow,” he stroked his chin. “You must really be smart.”

“I passed the high school exit exam on the first try with a perfect score.”

He emitted a soft whistle between his teeth. “Then the University of Michigan isn’t good enough. Harvard and Yale will be battling it out to see who gets you.”

That brought back her grin. “Do you really think so? I want to double-major in International Relations and Law.”

“She wants to double-major in International Relations and Law so when she takes over the world, no one can sue her,” Cydney came upon their conversation, smiling at her daughter as the girl turned to her. “Trying to pull Agent Serreaux into your plot of world domination?”

Olivia shook her head. “He went to University of Michigan. I’m thinking about going there, too.”

As Cydney nodded, Ethan spoke up. “It sounds like you won’t have any trouble getting into any college you want.”

“I hope not,” Olivia replied. She seemed to be more and more drawn to him as the seconds passed, interested in this man who was all of the things she was aspiring to be. “What was your major?”