August cracked his knuckles, as well as his neck, before snatching the phone from her hands. Any behavior that showed he wasn’t her pawn made him feel a little more in control.

He dialed. April’s phone rang, but no one answered.

“She’s probably right in the middle of getting it out of the library. It’s a tricky job, you know,” August said. “It’s not like she can walk in and check out the Gutenberg like it’s a copy of Foucault’s Pendulum.”

“Nice reference. Did you think I wouldn’t know what that was?” Xandria said. “I’ve read Foucault’s Pendulum. I thought it was boring.”

“So did my ex,” August said. “Of course, you’re both wrong. It just went over your heads.”

“Excuse me?” Xandria said. “You think because I’m a woman I couldn’t possibly like an intellectual thriller. Is that it?”

“That’s not what I meant at all.”

“Right,” Xandria said, the sarcasm dripping from her full lips. “Better stay focused on your own pendulum. It’s getting lower by the minute.”

The phone chirped twice.

“Text message,” Xandria said, pulling the phone out of August’s hands. She scanned the screen. “Trouble at the library. Your ex is asking for another hour.”

A shiver rippled through August’s body. Xandria didn’t seem too fond of handing out favors. “One hour,” August said. “You’ve got to give it to her. It’s completely fair.”

“Since when has any of this been fair?” Her sentence was punctuated by a loud rumble of the plane. Xandria gripped her seat, and August caught the faintest glimpse of fear in her eyes.

“What are you going to do? Kill my son? Do you really think I’m going to help you then?”

Xandria’s face showed indifference, but she was listening.

“My cooperation is completely dependent on my family staying alive,” August said, holding his ground. He knew Xandria wouldn’t buy it, but it might keep her thinking rationally.

“One hour,” Xandria said. “You can decipher the images in your copy of the Gutenberg while we’re waiting on your ex.”

Another shiver. This wasn’t what August wanted to hear. “One problem,” he said.

“What?”

“I don’t have the Gutenberg with me,” August said, almost chuckling as he said it, the words seeming so outrageous as they fell out of his mouth.

“You do,” Xandria said. “I saw you walk on the plane with it. It’s in that oversized metal briefcase right above our heads.”

“I wish it were,” August said. “That briefcase doesn’t have anything in it besides some of my dirty laundry.”

“So where is it?” Xandria asked.