Sacred Ground. Alex Archer
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“Just know that for all your information, I’ve still got more than enough secrets to keep myself warm at night.”
“I don’t doubt that,” Derek said. “But we aren’t looking to pry all of your secrets out of you. If that was the case, we’d be using something a lot more painful on you.” He smiled. “Just joking.”
“I’ll bet.”
Derek opened the door and a brisk gust of wind greeted them as they stepped out of the vehicle. He nodded at their driver. “Godwin will see to our bags. Let’s get inside.”
Annja glanced at the driver. Godwin? It was an unusual name. She hadn’t actually been introduced to the man. But she shrugged and followed Derek inside.
He pushed through the heavy door and a wall of heat met them, scaring off the thunderous cold wind. Derek took a deep breath. “Toasty in here.”
The man behind the counter smiled. “Welcome, folks.”
Derek smiled. “You’ve got some reservations for us, I believe. They should be under the name Mr. Smith.”
Annja cocked an eyebrow. Derek waved her off and then turned back to the man. “Should be three rooms in total.”
The counterman nodded. “Yep, got ’em right here.” He winked. “Not like we’d be full up or nothin’. Don’t exactly get ourselves a bumper crop of tourists this time of year.”
“We’ll just be here for the night,” Derek said.
“Pushing on in the morning, are you? Fair enough. Just sign in. It’s cash only, mind you, so if you’ve got anything plastic, there’s a bank machine down the road at Terry’s Trading Post.”
Derek pulled out his wallet and fished out several bills. “Cash is fine.”
The man took the money and laid three keys down on the counter. “Right, you’re all next to each other. Hope you don’t mind. It’s easier this way to know where you’re all at.”
Derek handed one of the keys to Annja and turned back to the man. “What’s good around here for a meal?”
“We don’t have anything fancy.”
“I don’t care about fancy. Just good.”
“Well, then, you can’t do any better than the steak house across the street. They do a great porterhouse. Keep a couple of beers on tap, as well. It’s a fine meal. Finish it off with a single malt and you’ll be back in time for a toasty night here in your bed.”
Derek nodded. “Sounds good. Thanks.”
“Where’s your third party?” the man asked.
The door to the inn banged open and Godwin came through the door carrying an assortment of traveling bags. He looked even taller and more imposing in the close confines of the inn’s reception area. And he didn’t seem to smile all that much.
“I’ll need some clothes,” Annja said to Derek. “If you recall, we didn’t stop like you promised.”
Godwin set down a bag near Annja. “You’ll find everything you need in there, Miss Creed.”
Annja looked at the bag and then back at Godwin. “My clothes?”
Godwin shrugged. “All new. With the equipment you might need for your work. If there’s anything else you require, please let me know and I’ll see that you get it as soon as possible.”
Annja glanced at Derek. “Is this more of your paid-for information at work?”
He shrugged. “Discerning your size isn’t much of a challenge. And we did enough research to know what you’d need. You’ll find it all there.”
“You must have been incredibly confident that I would agree to work with you.”
“I was.”
“Are you ever wrong?”
Derek smiled. “Only about my ex-wife.”
Annja allowed herself a small grin. “I’m hungry.”
Derek nodded. “Let’s get changed and meet back here in what—twenty minutes?”
“Sure.”
Derek handed the final key to Godwin. “You’ve secured the vehicle?”
“Yes, sir.”
“All right, let’s see to our rooms.”
They walked down the corridor and one by one they each entered a room.
Annja took a moment to examine her surroundings. The room was small but functional. A single lamp on the bedside table gave off a warm glow of light. The bed was a double, big enough for one but not much more. Annja smiled to herself. As if she’d be getting lucky in a town like this.
She threw her bag on the bed and unzipped it. She pulled out three heavy sweaters, thermal underwear, fleece pants, lined jeans, turtlenecks and then a heavy parka, gloves and a thick woolen hat. Godwin had thoughtfully removed all the tags and stickers that would have marked the clothing as new. Annja couldn’t even see where he might have purchased the clothes from, but judging by the feel of them, they were expensive and perfectly suited to the environment she’d be operating in.
Annja stripped off her clothes and dressed in the thermal underwear, turtleneck, jeans and sweater before sliding into the parka. She looked at herself in the mirror and decided that the road hadn’t made her look like a total mess, although the cold was already working on her face. She’d need to remedy that before bed tonight.
She sat on the edge of the bed and took out her cell phone and punched in a number back in New York. The phone buzzed three times and then her voice mail at her place in Brooklyn picked up. Annja punched her code in and recorded a message she’d recorded a thousand times before.
“Hi, you’ve reached Annja Creed. I’m out digging in the dirt somewhere. Leave me a message and I’ll call you back once I get home.”
She disconnected and checked her watch. Time to go.
Back in the lobby, Godwin was already there, watching the satellite TV in the corner of the room. He looked up as Annja entered and nodded as if confirming something in his mind.
Annja did a quick pirouette as she entered. “You like?”
He almost smiled. “Everything fits you properly. That’s good. It means I did my job well.”
“Thank you,” Annja said. “I was a bit worried when I suddenly found myself employed earlier this afternoon.”
“Mr. Wainman was quite explicit in his instructions. I would be upset if something didn’t fit you properly. Up here in these parts, proper fit isn’t a matter of fashion—it’s a matter of survival. If your body heat isn’t adequately managed, you’ll die from exposure.”
“You sound like you know your way around these parts.”
“I do. My ancestors have lived in this area for generations. Longer than that even.”
“Araktak?”
He nodded. “I’m half. My father married outside the family. It didn’t go over so well, but then again, the course of true love never did run smooth. Isn’t that what they say?”
“Some of them.”
“Well, I’ve never really belonged to the family. My mother was an outsider, so her blood in mine makes me the same.”
“They won’t take you in as one of their own?”
“Not the Araktak. They’re far too proud to admit a half-breed.”
Annja frowned. “Their loss, then. From what I can see, they’d do well to accept you as family. You don’t look like you’d accept such discrimination easily.”