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“Thank you,” she said as he pulled out of the parking lot. “I’m going to 16SvobodaSquare, please.”
“No problem. We should be there in ten minutes.”
“Great.” Meghan tapped her phone. Google Maps displayed the route they were to take, her little insurance. If anyone had to look for her later, they could check her account and find out where they had gone right after she left the train station. At times, Big Brother watching wasn’t a bad thing.
“Hey, I hope it’s not too forward, but I’m curious—what brings you to this metropolis?”
She looked at him, her mind swirling with questions. Who was this guy? Maybe she would hold off on answering for now.
Oliver brushed his wet hair off his forehead and glanced her way.
“Where did you learn to speak English?” she asked.
“Postgraduate studies in Copenhagen.”
“Did you have to learn Danish?”
He chuckled. “Yeah, but also German and French, but most of my courses were in English.”
“Oh.” She looked out the window, slightly embarrassed. Her breath caught as she spotted the man from the train sitting in a black Range Rover parked at the curb. He wore the same fedora. The stranger aimed his phone at her. This time, she was certain he had snapped several pictures.
* * *
Oliver Skala grippedthe steering wheel a little tighter. From her reaction, he knew she had noticed Robert Eisenhart, but Oliver chose not to let on that he knew. He was sure it would only heighten her anxiety. Meghan was not whom he had expected. The Czech branch of the BIAR, the Bureau of Investigation and Art Recovery, initially thought that her mother, Katka Robins, would be the one dealing with Fred’s estate, even though he left the mill to Meghan. Why she would send her daughter, who obviously didn’t speak the language and had no idea what she was getting into, was beyond his understanding.
Did Katka think that everything would resolve itself with her father’s passing and the ugly history would just be forgotten? If only things could be that easy. Oliver checked the rear-view mirror. Robert Eisenhart didn’t follow them, most likely satisfied with his blatant display of stalker behavior. He clearly meant to let Oliver know that he was here. And he was ready to do whatever it took to get what he wanted. However, the documents he was after, as well as the items he had been searching for, never belonged to the Eisenhart family. The bureau, or better yet, the people who had founded the agency, had been following this case for over 80 years. It was up to Oliver and his team to retrieve the items and to ensure that Robert would never get his dirty hands on the stash or the records that had been, presumably, hidden with it. That had been his mission for the past two years. Hence his transfer to his hometown. He glanced at the young woman sitting in his car. Despite her visible discomfort with the situation, she had courage. Oliver checked the mirror one more time. Robert’s car was gone.
“How was your flight?” He broke the silence. Gaining her trust would be a challenge. That had been obvious from the start. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her message someone with an update on her status and Google Maps directions to the Airbnb. He was pretty sure there was some GPS tracking app on her phone, most likely installed by her mother. She must have known that Meghan could run into trouble. From what he had gleaned from the research on the family, he understood that Katka was a pragmatic, smart, well-educated woman who had clear goals in life. He surmised that flying to Czechia to deal with a seemingly worthless piece of property wasn’t reason enough to use the few precious days off she allowed herself each year. Her legal practice was well established, but Katka’s profile pinned her as a workaholic. She took one week off at Christmas, then another in March. The family vacationed together in Mexico. Same resort. The same week, for the past ten years. Thank you, Facebook.
“Good.” Her reply sounded a little strained.
“You must be tired.” He glanced over.
Her blue eyes met his. “Tired doesn’t even come close. There was a crying kid on the flight.” She stifled a yawn.
“Not even a snooze on the train?”
“Nope.” She tapped the screen.
Was she messaging someone on the other side of the ocean?
“I don’t want to sound paranoid,” she chewed on her bottom lip. “But an annoying old man was staring at me,” she paused. “For most of the way.” Meghan looked at her screen again, then turned toward him. “It was so weird, but it could be me. I’m tired, possibly seeing what’s not there.”
How did Robert know what train she’d be on? He must have had help. A team?
Oliver needed to warn Meghan. But that would blow his cover. How would she react knowing he had not been completely honest with her from the moment they met? It had been a huge leap of faith for her to get into his car. Teaching at a local high school had proven to be the best cover his bureau could have come up with. It worked. His students liked him. Oliver had to admit that he enjoyed the classroom. Maybe he would hand in his notice after this assignment was complete. He could stay in the area and settle down. It would make his mama happy. She had been thrilled when he asked if he could stay at the family villa while he looked for his own place. Of course, she insisted that renting an apartment was complete nonsense, especially since she lived alone after his dad passed. So, despite the stigma attached to thirty-something men living with their parents, he moved back home to live with his mother. Oliver would have to come clean with her, too—one day.
“Are you hungry?” Oliver asked as he turned left. The small street led to the center square of the village. The high school he worked at was situated at one end, and Meghan’s Airbnb was on the other. He would have a perfect view of the entrance to her building. The bureau selected this low-rise on purpose, as the windows from the history department’s office offered him a great vantage point. Oliver had installed a small surveillance camera outside the window frame so he could monitor the area from his cell phone. The original plan called for surveillance at arm’s length. But the delay at the notary office responsible for Fred’s estate complicated things. Meghan was supposed to arrive, according to the team’s plan, in May, as soon as her university let out. But this was the end of June. By now, the school was out—he had to improvise.
“And here we are,” he said, pulling to the curb.
The app on her phone chimed.
“Thank you.” Her face lit up with a sweet smile. “This was very kind of you.” She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I would have been stuck at that station till the evening.”
“No worries.” He unbuckled his seatbelt, got out of the car, and walked around its front to open her door.
CHAPTERTWO