“I’ll get it,” she said. “My job, remember?”

She grabbed the receiver of the old landline phone. “This is Sierra.”

“The deal is on,” Ambrose Jones said. “Tomorrow night. Make that tonight, given that it’s after two. You’ll have plenty of time to drive back to Seattle during the daytime tomorrow. Exchange will take place using the enhanced security services you and the buyer both requested. It will be handled by me personally. There’s just one catch.”

Sierra clutched the phone very tightly to her ear. “What?”

“The buyer insists on testing the artifact,” Jones said. “Says he’ll know if it’s the right one. He made it clear that if he thinks he’s been cheated he will destroy the artifact that your client wants.”

Sierra looked at North, who was leaning over the librarian’s desk, hands planted on the surface while he listened to the one-sided conversation.

“The buyer insists on testing the artifact,” she said.

North smiled his ice-cold smile. His eyes got a little hot.

“No problem,” he said.

CHAPTER 38

The last of the disorienting fog evaporated half an hour after sunrise. Sierra tossed her pack into the back of the big Foundation SUV that Dexter had provided and hopped up onto the passenger’s seat. North took the wheel and they got on the road, stopping briefly at the remains of the burned-out vehicle to retrieve the poisoned glasses. North tossed them into the lockbox in the rear of the Foundation SUV and got back behind the wheel. Sierra didn’t need any psychic talent to sense the prowling anticipation that electrified the atmosphere around him.

It was clear they were not going to talk about the adrenaline-fueled passion that had overwhelmed both of them a few hours earlier. Probably just as well, she decided. What could you say about that kind of elemental desire aside from the fact that it had been the most exciting sex she had ever had?

She reminded herself no promises had been exchanged. There had been no talk of commitment. No discussion of the future of their relationship. When it was over they had both fallen into an exhausted sleep.

This morning North was focused on his mission. She understood. They had a job to do before they could figure out their personal situation. She took comfort from a couple of the lines of the psychic poem her father had sent to her:

Hope and Love are better paths

For what ahead may lay.

It dawned on her that this was the first time she had been able to conjure some serious hope for a relationship. In the past she had tried to think positively at the start of each new affair, but deep down she had always known things would end badly. This time, however, she was not hearing the annoying little ping that whispered, Enjoy the moment. It won’t last.

She warned herself to keep the situation in perspective. She and North had shared a lot of tense, dangerous experiences lately. That kind of thing created a bond of sorts but not necessarily a permanent one. Nevertheless, this morning she had hope.