Chapter Four

She knew something. Zach had seen the flicker in her eyes when he’d mentioned the money.

In his experience, the actual terrorists were usually of little consequence. They knew nothing and were expendable. But they usually had to be paid, and following the money was often the only lead they had. The woman who had blown herself up in that hotel bar in Paris had never intended to survive, but they’d traced payments made to her family back to a bank account in the Cayman Islands. He’d been monitoring the account ever since. And it had led him to Eve Blakeley.

She glanced away, then back. What she did next would be interesting. Would she lie?

“Have you been watching me?” she asked.

Not the question he’d been expecting. “Why would you think that?”

She shrugged, then wrapped her arms around herself. “Just…this past week I’ve sensed someone watching me. I thought I was being paranoid. But maybe not.”

How the hell had she picked up his surveillance? “You weren’t supposed to notice.”

“I’ve been a little…sensitive since…” She waved a hand in the air. He presumed she meant since the kidnapping; she was clearly not happy talking about it. She had a fragile air that he’d often seen in survivors of similar ordeals. And shadows under her blue eyes; looked like she wasn’t sleeping too well. “I suppose it’s a relief,” she said. “At least I’m not going crazy.”

“I needed to find out whatever I could about you before we had this talk.”

Her lips were pressed into a tight line, then she gave a small nod and pulled a file from her desk drawer, handed him a piece of paper. “Is this the account?”

He glanced down, read the details and the amount. “Yes. So you know about the money?”

“Of course. But not that it’s from an account you’ve been monitoring. And I think you’ve made a mistake. The money is from the organization that funds my research here at the university. I’ve worked with them for six years, ever since I moved back to the UK. I assure you; they haven’t asked me to do anything against the law.”

He raised the piece of paper. “So if this is just a regular payment, why the new account? And it’s a lot of money.”

“It’s for a special project. They want me to head an expedition to Mongolia to find a relic I’ve been researching.”

“A relic?”

“The Spirit Banner of Genghis Khan. It’s a spear he carried into battle. Some people believe it’s the embodiment of his soul. And it’s been lost for about eighty years. I think I might have discovered a way to find it.”

He pressed a finger to his forehead, trying to determine how this fitted into the pattern. What the hell did a relic have to do with terrorism? He had no fucking clue. But there had to be a connection. He just couldn’t see it yet. Or where this woman fit in. He pushed himself to his feet, walked to the window, and looked down at the manicured lawns. This place was so goddamned civilized it was hard to believe it was within the same world as the one he inhabited. He turned back to Eve Blakeley. She was chewing on her already non-existent fingernails.

“So are you going? To Mongolia?”

She flinched, then gave herself a little shake. “No. I don’t do field work.”

“Why?”

“Are you always this…nosey?” She gave a tight smile. “Of course you are. It’s your job.” She took a deep breath. “I’ve suffered from PTSD since the kidnapping—though I’m sure you know that, if you’ve been looking into my background. Just the thought of doing field work…out there…exposed…” She gave a shudder. “I can’t do it.”

He was pretty sure her fear was genuine. He turned away—trying to work out his next move—and studied the bookshelf beside him. He pulled one of the books from the top shelf and read the cover. Genghis Khan and the Making of the Modern World. He slid it back and turned to her.

“Why Genghis Khan?”

“My father gave me a book about him when I was six. It made an impression. Genghis Khan is a fascinating man. He came from almost nothing, and by the time of his death he ruled the biggest empire the world has ever known. Some people think he was the most effective terrorist to ever live.”

Interesting, but hardly relevant, considering he’d been dead for centuries. She sounded confident now, talking about her work. He didn’t want her confident, he wanted her off-balance.

“I know your husband,” he said.

“Noah?” she asked, and he nodded. “He’s my ex-husband, actually.”

“We worked together. I liked him. I was just about to get married. He told me not to. He said the job doesn’t work with marriage.”

“Did you take his advice?”

“No.”

“And?”

He smiled. “She’s meeting with a divorce lawyer this morning.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No need. It’s a mutual decision.” He sat down again. “I think you should go on the expedition.”

“What? Why?”

“To be honest, I’m not sure. I can’t see any connection between my terrorist and your trip to Mongolia, but I know it’s there. One way to find it is to do what they want. And for some reason they want you to go to Mongolia and find a spear.” Fucking crazy. His boss would love this—would no doubt see it as definitive proof that he’d totally lost the plot.

“I told you, I don’t do field work. And I told you why.”

“Mongolia is one of the safest countries on the planet. And it’s been twelve years. Don’t you think it’s time to move on?”

Her eyes flashed. “You don’t think I hate the fact that my life is controlled by those bastards?” She took a deep breath. “I’ve turned down the expedition of a lifetime—when I believed it was nothing more than a straightforward job. So why the hell would I say yes when there’s a terrorist connection? I’d be absolutely insane.”

Maybe she was right, and maybe he was the insane one for suggesting it. But you worked with what you had. “A possible terrorist connection. It’s likely a coincidence.” Because there was a whole load of those in his line of work.

“You don’t believe that.”

He shrugged. “What I believe is that the world is facing an unprecedented threat. We all have to stand up and do our part. My partner has been in a coma for the last three months. And right now, you’re my only lead in finding the assholes responsible.”

She stared back at him, her face expressionless, and he knew he had failed.

“I can’t.”