The Milestone Protocol Ernest Dempsey (best short novels of all time .txt) 📖

“That’s true.”

“I’ve said some pretty scathing things about you and your organization in the past,” Kevin went on.

“I’m aware.”

“I called you guys the cowboy wannabes of archaeology.”

“Yeah, that one was too far,” Tommy said, pretending to be hurt. “But it was also pretty funny.”

“You thought it was funny?”

Sean interjected. “Look, Dr. Clark. You do things your way. We do them ours. Doesn’t mean either one is right or wrong. We just differ. Don’t take stuff so seriously.” Sean looked back to his friend Magnus. “I’ve been trying to get this guy to relax since we left Plovdiv.”

“Is it working?” Magnus asked, already knowing the answer.

“Not so much.”

The two laughed, and soon the other two joined in.

Tabitha lingered near the door, watching and listening to the testosterone-fueled water cooler moment.

Sean was the first to realize she’d been standing there awkwardly waiting for the bro fest to end.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “were you going to introduce us to your friend, or were you just going to let her stand there in the entryway for the rest of the night?”

Tommy blushed and whirled around. “I’m sorry. This is Agent Tabitha Strong from MI6. This is—”

“Sean Wyatt,” he said, gliding across the room to shake her hand. At her robust grip, he smiled approvingly. “Nice to meet you. MI6, huh?”

“Yes,” she drawled. “Nice to meet you as well, Sean. Or should I say Agent Wyatt?”

“I haven’t gone by that title in a long time. Left those days behind me to younger, more talented people.”

Her lips pursed for a split second, but she caught herself and offered a slight nod in thanks. Inside, though, she felt her heart flutter. He was smooth.

She’d heard about Wyatt’s exploits, though nothing in tremendous detail. Much of what Axis handled was kept under wraps, and that agency never had a leak. Not that Tabitha ever heard about.

“Pleasure to meet you, Sean,” she said coolly. “Tough to know much about Axis' missions, though I do appreciate what you did with those Russian arms dealers back in the day.”

The comment caught him off guard, and for a second Sean felt more vulnerable than he had in a long time. He cocked his head to one side, appraising her. “Looks like someone’s been reading some files they weren’t supposed to have. And technically,” he leaned forward and whispered with the side of his hand against his face, “it was in Moldova.”

“You don’t know my clearance level, Sean. And while the mission may have happened in Moldova, the dealers were Russian.”

“All of our stuff was highly classified. Only three people in the world should have known about that one. Do I need to call my friend the director and let her know she has a leak?”

“Axis doesn’t get leaks. And I didn’t read about it. I was there.”

Sean held his cool, statuesque gaze, only blinking once or twice. He wasn’t going to give anything away to this person he just met, but she shouldn’t have known about the arms dealer mission in Moldova. That was years ago. He recalled the events of the night, the cold, the rain, the mission where he’d taken out dozens of armed men who were in the process of delivering weapons to extremists in the Middle East.

How did she know? Was she really there?

“Looks like you and I are going to have a few things to discuss, but for now we have more pressing matters.”

“I’ll say,” Tommy chimed, eager to stop watching the awkward exchange between Sean and Tabitha. “Where’s the wife, Sean?”

Sean tore his gaze away from the mysterious MI6 agent and turned back to his friend. “She’s back home.”

“In Atlanta?” Magnus asked.

“Madrid. Working on some family affairs.”

“What kind of affairs?” Tommy asked. “I didn’t realize she was so involved with the day-to-day operations.”

“No clue,” Sean admitted. “And she’s not that involved. All I know is whenever her dad calls and tells her it’s important, it must be.”

13

Madrid

Adriana followed her father through the darkened corridor. Only sparsely placed candle sconces provided a dim light for the two to see as they stalked through the palatial Villa mansion.

The three-hundred-year-old manor had been in their family since its creation. Several renovations and restorations had taken place throughout the centuries to keep the home in peak condition, and it was one of the few historical dwellings that hadn’t fallen prey to the proverbial “fire” that seemingly every palace and chateau fell to throughout the ages.

Diego Villa pivoted at the next corner and didn’t lose pace as he continued deeper into the bowels of the mansion.

Adriana had difficulty keeping up with her father, even though he was in his mid-seventies. The man was in spectacular shape, and it seemed the years had barely touched him since her childhood. There were other markers, of course, that betrayed the effects of time, but they were few: a stray gray hair here and there, one amid the black strands of his beard, and the occasional groan from aching joints. But for the most part, the man looked and moved like he could run a marathon the next day and feel just fine afterward.

“You’re keeping awfully quiet, Papa,” Adriana huffed as she hurried to keep up.

“I am aware, my daughter.”

“I haven’t been down in these passageways in many years. Since my childhood training.”

“Yes,” he agreed curtly, but without a hint of rudeness.

She knew better than to press her father with a slew of questions, but she also wanted to know what was going on.

He’d called her three weeks before and requested her presence at the familial estate in Madrid, telling her he needed her help in dealing with some aspect of family business. For the last few weeks, however, she’d done anything but work. Her father had been so busy, she barely saw the man until a couple of days ago.

She’d kept herself busy, walking the vineyards, investigating new leads for artwork that had gone missing during World War II, as well as some pieces that disappeared even longer ago.

This