Page 18 of Claimed
The big man in the hut—she assumed it was him—yelled something and all the men eased up slightly. Then the hut’s guards stepped back and lowered their guns, backing away.
“What’s going on?” she asked between her teeth.
“Let’s get into the sightline of Ambassador Mihal. He’ll want to see you’re unharmed.” Tamas’s words were low and quiet. “Don’t worry. This means the negotiation is going well.”
She stared at him but did as he directed, moving into the doorway of the hut but no further. She was still protected by the flimsy frame of the hut and the less flimsy frames of her bodyguards. Stefan flicked his gaze toward her and then turned back to face the big man. They both stood close together. On the table between them sat a black neoprene bag—which contained money, she was nearly certain. The big man started gesticulating wildly and Stefan regarded him steadily, calm as always. She couldn’t understand a word of what they were saying, and Tamasremained silent. She didn’t need to know, she reminded herself. She only needed to do what was required.
And what was required was apparently that she stay in Stefan’s sightline.
While she stood, her eyes scanned the hunks of debris that counted as viable artifacts for sale. Clothing, oddly enough. Shoes. Some jewelry, but all cheap stuff. Radios and electronic components scavenged from God only knew where. Towels and soap. All the island luxuries, she supposed. There wasn’t anything that appeared worth stealing, and even if she’d been so inclined, the presence of all the large men and large guns proved a significant deterrent.
She didn’t have long to wait, fortunately. Within about five minutes, Stefan stood back from the man, gesturing to the moneybag. The man nodded and watched him with beady eyes as Stefan signaled to Tamas. The two guards moved out, with her in the middle, and they left the tiny collection of huts behind. Stefan joined them less than ten minutes later as they slowly made their way along the beach.
“We stop here,” he said abruptly as they followed the shoreline. “Tamas, stand watch with the others. Nicki, get the blue camera out of the bag. The blue one, not the black.”
She gaped at him as the men fanned out. Tamas handed her another black bag. “I don’t know what this is,” she said quietly as she pulled the blue camera out.
“Point and click like you’re a tourist. We’ll need proof you were on this island for a legitimate reason if our friend back there gets cute and tries to cause trouble. He won’t betray his own hand, but he’ll betray ours if there’s money in it.”
“Oh.” She still didn’t understand. The camera wasn’t behaving like her normal one. It generated readings she couldn’t decipher, but she willingly moved it around the gorgeous view, from the forest to the beach to the shoreline and open waters.
“Turn back toward me, click it off,” Stefan said. “Now take this one.”
He handed her the camera she’d been using on the yacht, a standard video cam. “Take a second sweep. Keep away from the direction of the scavenger camp.”
She did as he asked, realizing suddenly that the first camera added to her purpose here. She was the cover, but she could do useful things as the cover. Even if she didn’t understand them.
“We good?” Tamas asked the question after she finished the second sweep, and Stefan nodded.
“They would’ve attacked already if they were going to,” he said. “We’re in the clear. Debrief on the boat. At this point, we leisurely head back with Nicki snapping random photos, full view. No guns.”
Nicki snorted. “Like they don’t know you have guns under your tunics.”
“We aren’t the only ones snapping pictures,” Stefan murmured. “Satellites and drone technology haven't reached much of Turkey, but we can’t take that chance. To all the world, we visited a well-traveled scavenger hut, took lots of pretty pictures of birds and beach grass, then headed back to our boat.”
“And what did we—” Nicki clamped her lips shut. She didn’t need to know the information at this exact moment, she told herself. She could follow directions and be a good team member.
Beside her, Stefan chuckled.
They were back aboard the yacht within the hour, and Stefan dismissed the men, leading Nicki to a small cabin on the second level. The room bristled with communications equipment, and he flipped several units on. Within moments, Cyril was on the screen.
“Report,” the chief advisor said, flicking his glance to Nicki. Then they both turned to Stefan, whose face had hardened.
“Who’s with you?” Stefan asked.
Cyril didn’t hesitate. “I’m alone. King Jasen is due here in ten minutes.”
“You can speak to him, then, and decide what you need to share. The dealer saw Ari,” Stefan said, his words clipped. “Timing was roughly a year, and from his description Ari was seriously injured, appearing concussed at a minimum, possibly brain-damaged. He was raving and disoriented. He didn’t identify himself, and didn’t mention that he’d crash-landed his plane.”
“But he was alive.” Cyril’s eyes had widened. “He survived the initial crash.”
“He was alive. He traded his watch and flask for a boat and food. The boat leaked, but he didn’t seem to care, said he could fix it.”
Cyril snorted. “Sounds like Ari.”
“Agreed. He was sure he didn’t need to go far, which points to some lucidity. The island isn’t far from the mainland. He didn’t appear to have money but the dealer couldn’t swear to that. His clothes were ragged and torn and not of good quality.”
Cyril frowned. “Not of good quality.”