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“Family named Gardner. They own the Historie chain, among other stores.”
Xavier was silent for a long moment. Finally, he said, “What’s the issue?”
“Dennis Gardner financed a dig in Jordan, and the archaeologist who worked on it for him ended up being abducted.”
“You mean the woman the Kingdom is demanding be extradited?”
“You heard about that?”
“Audrey’s an archaeologist, and the archaeologist grapevine exploded a few hours ago. Half the internet wants to make an example of her.”
Chris’s heart sank. Diana would be gutted when she learned. “And the other half?”
“Two-thirds of them want her to be tried in the US.”
That wasn’t much better.
“And Audrey?”
“Wants more information before she casts judgment, but assumes there’s a lot more to the story, especially considering the woman’s boss at the university was murdered the day after the abduction.”
Chris watched Diana as he listened to Xavier. She stood stock-still. She couldn’t hear Xavier’s side of the conversation, but he knew she’d guessed what path it had taken.
“Shit, Chris. This is a loaded situation, but I don’t think Ian would do anything untoward in favor of Gardner. He’s a former CIA case officer, which means he’s no stranger to breaking the law, but that’s in foreign countries, not on US soil.”
“Gardner might not be breaking any laws either, but he can still throw gas on burning embers.”
“I’ll call Luke. Want me to have him call you?”
“Not yet. Leave my name out of it. No one can know my involvement. Ask Luke to reach out to Boyd. Tell him a Valkyrie has questions.”
“How is he supposed to get in touch with this Valkyrie?”
Chris huffed out a breath. Diana was going to hate it, but they needed to go back. Little Creek was just too far from DC to be useful.
“If he agrees, tomorrow in Fairfax. There’ll be a cell phone waiting for him at a place to be determined.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Before going to sleep on Saturday night, Chris went to a drive-through automatic teller machine and withdrew his daily limit of five hundred dollars. On their way out of town Sunday morning, they visited the same teller machine and he withdrew an additional five hundred. Diana tucked down in the well of the seat before they entered the bank parking lot, hoping to avoid being picked up by any cameras in the lot or on the ATM itself.
Not surprisingly, she hadn’t slept well given what Chris had reluctantly told her of the archaeological community’s unkind verdict. At least Xavier’s wife wanted more information.
She honestly wondered what she’d think if she were on the outside looking in. Would she be so quick to judge?
Before she’d contemplated working for the CIA, maybe.
Her decision to apply to the agency had been fueled by reading reports of the beheading of the archaeologist in Palmyra, followed by her shock and anger when the reports of Hobby Lobby buying looted artifacts came out. Nothing could have been done about Palmyra, but if knowledgeable operatives were in place, maybe they could have broken up the network before so much money was delivered into the coffers of terrorist groups.
She had the skills and credentials. She spoke Arabic. And she cared about the resource in a way that someone who stood to make massive profit from the deal never could. Antiquities dealers, no matter how ethical, were in it for the profit, not to protect the resource.
Salim had equal outrage over artifacts being sold to fund terrorism, and it had felt more personal to him given his heritage. He’d been supportive as she’d applied, and it wasn’t until she’d been accepted into a training class—a process that took more than a year—that the reality sank in and he grew increasingly concerned.
Had he lived, there was a reasonable chance she wouldn’t have gone through with it. But with him gone and the CIA out of reach, she’d opted for the next best substitution. She’d been grief-stricken and angry and devastated, and the idea of doing something to change the system that was doing so much harm to the Middle East and the world had given her purpose. So she’d gone all in.
She knew there were others like her who wanted to make a difference and end artifact trafficking. She felt bile rise in her throat at knowing that many of those people would think she was the enemy. The villain of the story.
But really, wasn’t she?
