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This story follows the first in Jenn’s Rediscovered series, Last Assault on Oak Island.
Onward with the search for the Amber Room. . .
Carlos was appointed to meet Waldheimer at eleven the next morning; the charade was not quite over for the curator. Since Delcite Industrial didn't exist, Agnes had wired the draft in Carlos' name with hopes that Waldheimer would be more interested in the money than who signed the check.
Lauren spent two hours narrowing down van lines that had drivers and trucks to lease. When this task was completed, she set about finding laborers and the equipment to exhume the mine crates.
Only one agency would dispatch workers without the details Lauren refused to furnish and even these had to be returned by four o'clock for another job. It only gave them a few hours of help and she hoped it would be enough to move the one, or several, crates. She wired the contractors their payment from the hotel front desk and returned to her room.
She packed quickly and tried again to reach the phone number Elden had given her for the Andre Cartier plates. After ten minutes of busy signals, she gave up and went over to Carlos' room two doors down the hallway.
The door opened to her knock and she stepped inside.
"The truck is rented. I'm packed. Are you?" She turned as the door closed behind her. "The work crew has . . ."
She broke off speaking and stared at Reuben as he locked the door behind them.
His face was unreadable. "You'd do best not to make trouble, Lauren."
". . . Reuben." She took a moment to halt the fleet of thoughts stampeding through her head. There was nothing in his expression that relayed a pleasant reunion. She shook her head slowly. "Where's Carlos?"
"He went for a drive with a friend of mine. Not a very pleasant fellow, this friend," he said, his tone sounding hollow. "I suggest you cooperate, in Dr. Sheldon's interest."
She caught sight of a handgun in a holster beneath his vest and took a step back. "This is a poor joke. Dr. Sheldon had an appointment this morning. He'll be back—"
"It's no joke, Lauren. Do as I say and no one will be hurt."
She glanced at the phone, the small desk, the bed. There was no note. She told herself Reuben had to be bluffing. "You wouldn't hurt Carlos."
He hesitated, something falling from his masked expression, and then the guardedness slipped over his face again. "You don't know that."
Her shoulders sagged as she stiffly appraised him. "Why am I not surprised at this?" As soon as the words were out, she felt an oddly surreal desperation slip over her.
He ignored the veiled plea in her eyes. "Let's go see Carlos."
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