will place all of your existing notes and theorems inside this envelope. Drop it in the waste bin outside the public area commonly referred to as the “quad” at four o’clock this afternoon. Destroy any remaining files that contain your work and return the tablets to the museum. Explain that you have discovered your theories are no longer feasible with the available evidence and that you will be publishing a retraction of your preliminary reports. Yes, Professor Anderson, I have read your preliminary reports on the summer palace location. A little far-fetched, hmm?
Once you have completed these tasks, you will discover yourself fifty thousand dollars richer. I imagine this will go a long way on a part-time professor’s salary.
Remember, four o’clock today. I advise against tardiness in this matter.
The letter ended there. No signature and nothing on the other side of the page.
Ginny’s hand shook, blurring the words. She had so many questions, she couldn’t keep track of them all. Was this some kind of a joke? A student thinking it would be funny to mess with her head after what had happened this morning?
Surely no one would be so dense as to believe that she’d give up her research—her potentially career-changing research—for a bribe.
Colin reached across and plucked the paper from her trembling hands, and a sense of relief that he was there rushed through her. He’d know what to do, wouldn’t he?
“Well, that’s odd. Looks like this was typed up manually.”
Or maybe not. She plunked her elbows on the desk, covering her face with her hands. “What’s going on? I teach ancient history. I don’t have secrets or hidden knowledge. It’s like I’m stuck in a bad made-for-TV movie.”
Colin glanced out into the department common area, then took two steps to cross her tiny office and look out its small window. He pulled across the gauzy curtain so that it hid them from view. “I wish I knew. It’s strange that whoever sent this would target you without an explanation. Sounds like someone wants you to stop your research, but based on what you’ve told me, it doesn’t make a whole lot of sense. There’s no financial gain, unless someone’s reputation is at stake. Is that a possibility?”
Ginny laughed bitterly. “Only my own professional reputation. If I publish a retraction of my earlier work, I’ll have set my career back by several years. I won’t be eligible for the tenure-track position and my next assertions will be met with severe scrutiny.”
“Sounds like you care a lot about what other people think.”
“When it comes to my professional reputation and the future of my career? Absolutely.”
“Careers aren’t the be-all and end-all of life.”
“Of course they are—oh.” Her face fell when she realized what she’d said. “Sorry. You said you didn’t leave the Secret Service by choice?”
“No, and it’s fine. I don’t talk about it a lot and I’d prefer not to.” Ginny started to apologize, to explain that she’d only been curious, but he held up a hand to stop her and tapped on the envelope instead. “I’m going to take this down to the police station. I can’t guarantee they’ll be able to do a lot since there’s no specific threat here, but I’m hoping the admission of responsibility for the events of the past twenty-four hours will be enough to tie it all together.”
“What about fingerprints? Tracing the paper or office supplies or ink? I’ve seen that on television.”
“Yours, mine and Sam’s. Maybe the sender touched it, but who sends a threatening letter and leaves a fingerprint? For that matter, who sends a physical letter instead of, say, calling?”
Ginny clutched a tablet in one hand and brushed the outside edge before tracing the shapes on the inside. “Someone who doesn’t like new things. New technology. If someone is trying to terrorize me into stopping my research, they must have an interest in old things.”
“That’s one possibility. But the label with your name looks printed off a computer, not a typewriter.”
“The sender mentioned associates. Maybe someone did it for him or her?”
As Colin’s mouth set into a firm, hard line, Ginny’s confidence faltered. If he couldn’t figure it out, what chance did she have against this mysterious adversary?
* * *
Colin stole a glance at Ginny, not at all surprised by the weariness on her face. He’d seen that look plenty of times on the faces of those he’d protected. Presidents, diplomats, persons of national importance, didn’t matter whom. No one had an easy time when it came to threats on his or her life. This wasn’t the first threatening letter he’d seen, but it was one of the most carefully put together. Generic envelope, generic paper and an assumption that Ginny would follow through. And the writer had the gall to drop it off in person.
“Are there security cameras around here?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Only at the entrances on either end of the building. The ones you see inside are dummies to deter students from destructive behavior. You could ask for security footage from outside, but it won’t be easy to go through. There’ll be a few hundred students coming and going, since some of the school’s administration offices are upstairs.”
It’d be a start, at least. The police would want to have a look at the footage as soon as he told them about the letter, but he wanted to get a look at it first. He pulled his phone out of his pocket to dial the security office. “I’m going to make a quick call and stand right outside your door, all right?” He watched as Ginny nervously rubbed her fingers over a tablet, her shoulders high and tense. “Should you be touching those things like that? I thought ancient stuff needed gloves and a secure environment.”
Some of the tension in her shoulders dropped. Good. The woman needed a few moments to relax, to rebuild her strength. Just in case.
Just in case. He hated the necessity of thinking that way, but better to be prepared than caught unawares. Those kinds of mistakes could be fatal—and one had been for the woman he was assigned to protect two years ago. Lynn Gustav, daughter of a diplomat, had stolen his heart and his focus. He’d been distracted in a critical moment and an assassin’s bullet found its mark. He hadn’t been able to save her.
He would not let his guard down like that again.
“Some ancient things, yes,” she was saying. “But not everything, otherwise only a few people would be able to study them. Clay tablets are durable, as long as you don’t throw them on the ground or run them over with a tractor. They’ve lasted this long, after all.”
Colin reached across to touch one, wondering at the texture of a thousands-of-years-old piece of clay, but Ginny yanked the one she held out of reach.
“Sorry.” Her face flushed. “I’m the only one allowed to touch them, remember? Aside from Mr. Wehbe and the Amaran representative overseeing my project. The tablets are durable and not financially worth much, but they’re still valuable pieces of history in other ways. And they don’t belong to the United States. Our agreement is that their handling is to be strictly controlled.”
“Ah, yes. Protocol. Who knew pieces of clay had protocol?” Much to Colin’s surprise, he couldn’t take his eyes off her reddened cheeks. She
