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Mendez hooked his hand under Ellie’s elbow and yanked her toward the exit.

“Hold,” Jacobs cut in.

Mendez stopped. Jacobs stepped near enough to Ellie that she instinctively pulled back from him. Only Mendez’s grip on her arm kept her in place.

“The artifact?” Jacobs prompted. He extended his hand, waiting.

Shame and frustration burned through her. Ellie put her hands to the ribbon and lifted the medallion over her head.

She set the black disk down in Jacobs’ palm.

Jacobs tossed it across the tent. Dawson fumbled his catch and was forced to pick the object up off the ground. The professor clasped the relic in his hands and studied it greedily. A moment later, he remembered himself and fumblingly tucked it into his pocket.

“That will be all.” Jacobs waved dismissively.

Ellie stumbled after Mendez as he hauled her from the tent.

Panic choked her. It had all happened too fast. Surely, there had to be a way out of this.

She glanced over her shoulder at Adam. He turned to watch her go, but his expression was as unreadable as a shuttered window.

Mendez propelled her through the camp. Flowers fell into step behind them, frowning a bit as he slung the rifle over his shoulder.

Some of the scattered workers glanced over at Ellie uncomfortably as she passed. They quickly looked away again.

A few of the ones with guns watched her progress with a distinctly more threatening glance.

Mendez shoved her through the entrance to a tent in the middle of the camp. The space was perhaps twelve feet square, and was furnished with a cot, a field desk, and a chair.

“Pacheco!” Mendez shouted. “Clear this out and tell Bones to find another place for his stuff.”

Ellie glanced down at the surface of the desk as her escort momentarily turned his back. Her eyes fell on a round, heavy magnifying lens. Instinctively, she shoved it into her pocket just as Pacheco—a slender young Mestizo man—hurried inside.

He cast her an uncomfortable look from under a fall of dark brown hair, and then scrambled to collect the papers. On his way back outside, he paused to give her a sympathetic nod.

“Señorita,” he said.

Another bark from Mendez had him scurrying out again.

Mendez jabbed a finger at Ellie from the entrance to the tent.

“Stay here. Don’t cause trouble,” he instructed her bluntly.

He walked back outside, impatiently waving Flowers around to guard the back side of the tent.

Ellie scurried over to peer out through the slight gap in the canvas flaps.

Mendez had plopped himself down on the ground just outside. He lit a short cigar and puffed at it, obviously settling in for a boring afternoon.

Ellie’s fists clenched at her side as some of her fear gave way to a more comfortable anger.

Howdarethey? Did Jacobs really think he could use her like a pawn with no mind or will of her own? Ellie was the one who had escaped him back in London, and who had beaten him to British Honduras.Shewas the one with the skills and qualifications to properly assess and document what they had come to find.

She was a university-trained scholar, a professional archivist, and a political agitator. She wasnota chip for someone to push around on their table.

Fury rose, swelling up into her skull until she thought it must crack from the sheer pressure… but there was nowhere for it to go.

There was nothing she coulddo.