“Where am I?” she croaked in a response barely above a whisper. Her throat was sore and dry.
“Uh, Cairo… I guess?” he replied, somewhat confused.
“Why?” she asked in a raspy voice.
“Ummm,” the man seemed puzzled, “I’m pretty sure you’re from here.” Anastasia was getting frustrated. It hurt to speak, but clearly she wasn’t making any sense to her captors.Or were they her rescuers?
A handsome man stood and walked over to her. She looked himover as he moved across the room, his gait smooth and athletic. He had kind, forest-green eyes that seemed to smile, which contrasted with his hard and rugged features. His brown hair was swept back and revealed a face with chiseled features and a crooked grin. Anastasia found herself drawn to him as he quietly approached her, and she recognized him as the man who had fended off her attackers. He offered assistance by sticking out a strong hand and she took it, thankful for the support as her legs were still shaky. He walked her to a sofa and gently helped her sit down, taking the spot next to her.
“You’re Anastasia Metry?” he asked her.
Rather than being menacing, the tone of his deep voice was commanding and yet strangely captivating. She imagined that most people sat up and took note of the confidence in the man’s voice, and she found herself trusting him despite not having a clue who he was. She nodded feebly.
“My name is Nate Wilde. That’s Tim.” He pointed at the redheaded man. “That big monster over there is Shane, and you’ve already met Wally.”
The British man he called Wally came out from the kitchen area with a cup of tea and placed it in front of her, alongside two pills she recognized as ibuprofen. “You have a bruised trachea, but no permanent damage. It’ll heal in time, but it’ll hurt like hell until then, and it’s going to leave a nasty bruise. The tea should help, and there’s some anti-inflammatories if you’d like,” he said before backing away and giving her space.
“You’re a doctor?” she asked him.
“Medic,” he replied. “Former British army.”
“And a damned good one too,” Nate added. “You’re welcome to rest here as long as you’d like, and then we can talk about your father.”
“My father,” she whispered. “Have you seen him?”
“No,” Nate said. “I’m sorry. We’ve never met, and I don’t know where he is.” Anastasia must have looked confused, because he elaborated. “I’m a graduate student at Harvard and my dissertation researchinvolves the Rub’ al Khali.” He seemed to be keeping it intentionally vague, trying not to reveal more than necessary.
“My studies led me to a man named Gilbert Richter,” he continued, and Anastasia’s eyes widened. “Yes,” he confirmed, “that Gilbert Richter, the man you were supposed to meet. Except he was never coming. Richter was killed in Germany a week ago.”
“What?” Anastasia asked in shock. She wasn’t sure if she should believe him.
As if reading her mind, Nate said, “You can verify it. They’ve published his obituary online.” Her head was spinning.Why had someone killed a man she was meant to meet?
“Murdered?” she asked weakly.
“That’s what we thought. That’s why we came here. Someone tried to kill me the same night Richter died. We thought you might be next.”
It didn’t make sense. Who were these guys? They weren’t police. Nate was a graduate student? How could they have known Richter was killed, or that she was being targeted?
“How?” she asked and began coughing.
“For fuck’s sake,” the burly redheaded man called Tim said from across the room, apparently annoyed with the pace of the conversation. “Nate here dug up something in his research. We have no idea what it is or why it’s worth killing people, but at least one man is dead, and you and he are lucky to be alive. Apparently, you know something that makes you dangerous to be walking around.” He spoke with a thick American Southern accent, and Anastasia noticed the blue hat on his head promoting the University of Kentucky.
Nate glared at the angry redheaded man sitting across the room drinking a beer before returning his gaze to her. “What we’re saying is, we don’t know what’s going on, but we think it might be related to a report your father got ahold of. A report that he may have sent to you.”
Anastasia thought about the hydrology report.Could that be what was worth killing for?She didn’t see how. Last night she had noted it as interesting, but not deadly. Now this man was telling her it could be the reason she was almost killed today, as well as the reason her father was missing.Or was he dead?The thought filled her with dread.
“My father…”
Nate looked away, and she knew. Tears formed in her eyes and began silently streaming down her cheeks. When Nate turned back, his hard features had softened and his eyes seemed almost compassionate.
“I’m sorry, Anastasia. I don’t know. But…”
“But everyone who has come in contact with this report has been attacked or killed,” she squeaked out, her first full sentence causing a strain on her throat.
Nate said nothing for a long time. Finally, when he spoke, it was with purpose. “Do you have a copy of the report?”
Anastasia instantly became suspicious.Was he just after the report? Was any of what he said true?For all she knew, he was working with the men who had attacked her, and this was all some elaborate plot. Her eyes narrowed and she leaned away from him.
