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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. . .
The next hours were a grueling test of Lauren's nerves. It took all her concentration to act like the professional representative she was supposed to be at the bank. The controller didn't look for problems after Lauren's credentials and passport verified. Reuben was an unnecessary entity, as predicted. He sat bored but complacent in a side chair in the office, eyes veiled by the smoky-tinted glasses, watching Lauren's every move.
When it was over, he hurried her to a sidewalk phone to collect messages from the hotel in Göttingen and made another call to Geil and Carlos. She learned that the Duke wanted to meet at eleven o'clock the next day, but the bank appointment with him would have to be later that afternoon. He had a previous engagement with Edmund's attorneys. Carlos had agreed to the times.
Reuben accepted the slight delay. He spoke with Geil for a long moment and then had Lauren contact the porcelain dealer Elden had recommended. When she made her request to the French woman on the phone, Reuben registered surprise.
"There is a collection for Madame Varlette?"
She covered the phone's mouthpiece. "I told you that."
He frowned at the messages she had scribbled on the notepad as she said goodbye and hung up. "That's why you were at the Weinstadt with Grant?"
"No." She had wanted to say it hard, but it came out flat.
His eyes narrowed, trying to read her impossible face. "Call him."
"Elden?"
He nodded. "Now."
She frowned. "Why?"
He leaned against the phone box. "I want to see you talk to him."
She didn't like the sound of this and it seemed especially sleazy in his interpreter attire. "What do you think I'm going to say?" She swallowed down the sudden heat that welled in her throat. "Don't pretend you care personally, Reuben. It doesn't become you, or fit with the role of abductor."
He took her arm and pushed her into the sidewalk traffic. "You haven't exactly been a model hostage."
She tried to jerk her arm free, but he didn't let go. "How so?"
"You're not innocent of— Dammit, Lauren." His hold tightened as her elbow slipped. "If I were Rybak you'd be acting different."
She didn't stop walking. "Hell, yes."
The Friedrichstrasse station was crowded with afternoon commuters and Lauren and Reuben fought their way through.
She turned to him when they found their train. "If you were Rybak I'd have made the most of your weaknesses. Maybe I will yet."
He stiffened as her fingers rested on the print shirt over his injury. She applied no pressure.
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