a suspicion, but needed confirmation. Hence the need for your services. As you can appreciate, they are no longer needed.”
Sydney tucked the article back in her folder. “Well, here’s the thing. A couple guys tried to Ten X me last night, and, just a quirk of mine, I tend to take those sort of things personally. The way I see it, with one of them still at large, it’s in my best interest to figure out what the hell is going on.”
“It would have been in your best interest to fly home on the plane we’d provided. Had you done so,” he said, keeping his voice low, “and not involved yourself in something you shouldn’t have been nosing around in, you wouldn’t have been made into a target.”
“Well, it’s a little late for that now, isn’t it? And speaking of being in my best interest, how is it I had to learn from someone else that my very good friend, whom I personally recommended for your case, was killed. What if her parents had decided to hold a local service?”
“Like I said, on the off chance it was something more than a hit-and-run, we didn’t want you there for the obvious reasons.”
“The off chance?” she whispered. “Had you informed me of everything from the beginning, last night’s events could have been completely avoided.”
He glanced over at her, saw she was staring straight ahead, doing her best to keep her temper in check. “You’re welcome to get off the plane.”
“Not going to happen.”
“How’d you get permission to fly out?”
“Simple. I called the security officer at HQ, told him I had hankering to go to Italy, because I got a real good deal on a flight, but only if I leave now. He told me I knew the drill. Leave my gun at home, and see him when I get back for a security briefing. Italy’s not way up there in the countries of concern, you know.”
“So you lied.” That was something he hadn’t expected, not based on her background.
“Bent the truth a little. I’m thinking about visiting the Vatican. You?”
Griffin buckled up his seat belt as the flight attendant made her rounds for the preflight check. “Haven’t decided yet. But wherever I go, it’ll be without you. You lost your friend, and for that I’m sorry. But that makes you emotionally involved. It’s something I can’t afford.” He leaned back, closed his eyes. “So how was it you found her?” he asked.
“The crime scene photograph. The red sandstone. Looked it up on the Internet and discovered the Smithsonian was built with it. From there it was basic. Looked up vehicles towed in the area, found one that was connected to a missing person, who happened to be a student in a history class she assists with,” she said, patting the folder on her lap. “Their professor confirmed it this morning.”
Impressed by her powers of observation and deductive reasoning, he was still bothered that she’d found the connections so easily, primarily because it had put her in danger. Even so, she’d handled herself well, better than the two agents he’d assigned to follow her. “Sorry about losing you last night.”
“Yeah, well, it all worked out in the end.”
“Except you let the second guy get away.” He opened one eye, smiled at the dark look she gave him. “Would’ve been cleaner had you gotten him, too.”
“Win some, lose some.”
He laughed. Sydney Fitzpatrick was nothing like he’d been led to believe. That didn’t mean he was keeping her on, but at the very least, it was going to make his flight less tedious.
The plane touched down at the Leonardo da Vinci Airport in a smooth landing, and the moment the seat belt lights were shut off, the passengers rose from their seats and started digging for their carry-ons. Zach retrieved his and Sydney’s, then they both remained seated, waiting for the passengers in front of them to depart. Sydney unzipped her bag, dropped in the folder of the conspiracy report, then sat back to wait, thinking that Griffin might actually let her in on his investigation after all.
That illusion lasted until he said, “When we get off the plane, you’re going back on the next flight to the States.”
“You can’t order me,” she told him. “I’m on vacation.”
“Watch how fast I get you ordered back.”
She didn’t doubt for a second that he could do it. “At least let me see Bernini’s Daphne and Apollo at the Villa Borghese. Not letting an artist see Bernini