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disgust he’d seen in the coffee shop, she appeared entirely composed now. Since she came from a high-test family, he wasn’t surprised at her calm. The Reyes Balam bloodlines were as blue as they came, New World and Old combined.
    “What do you want from me?” Lina asked.
    He wanted more than information, but that was his personal problem. It wouldn’t get in the way of his professional needs. Or Jase’s.
    “First and foremost,” Hunter said, “a promise that this goes no further than the two of us.”
    “Why?”
    “A man’s job hangs on finding those artifacts. Fast. He has two kids and another on the way. To help him, I need the kind of knowledge you have.”
    It wasn’t what Lina had expected to hear. She blew out her breath. “Just the two of us. And that goes both ways, Hunter.”
    “Three. Jase already knows I was going to contact you.”
    “Is it his butt on the line?” Lina asked bluntly.
    “Yes.”
    “All right. The three of us. If this gets out, I’m ruined.”
    “Just for talking to me?” Hunter asked.
    “There is no shade of gray in the academic view of unprovenanced items. You’re pure white or you’re garbage waiting for the disposal to be turned on.”
    “The Caesar’s wife syndrome?”
    “Exactly. My family’s reputation wouldn’t survive another scandal. Neither would mine. As you well know,” she added coolly.
    “The sooner you help me find these artifacts, the quicker you’ll be left with the purists.”
    She looked at him for a long moment, her eyes dark and measuring. Then she looked at the photos. “Do you know where the artifacts came from?”
    “All I know is that the plates on the truck caught at the border were from Quintana Roo.”
    “The driver?”
    “The same.”
    “Has he mentioned any specific area or ruins?” Lina asked without looking up. Holding her breath. “Q Roo is a big state.”
    “He’s dead,” Hunter said. “He didn’t talk about anything but getting shuck of the artifacts. He was afraid of them, or of whoever would take delivery.”
    “You’re not making this any easier,” she said under her breath.
    “Easy or hard, it’ll get done. Somebody knows where those artifacts came from. Somebody looted them, sold them, maybe they were resold a few times before they were packed in bags of cement mix and taken north. When I find the looters or the middlemen, I’ll find the name of the end buyer. Somewhere along that line, someone will talk. Someone will know about these artifacts.”
    Lina was still caught on the bags of cement. “Was it a commercial load in a commercially licensed truck?”
    “No. I had a source check it out. The truck was stolen from a building site on the Riviera Maya.”
    Thank God, Lina thought. “You know that part of my family’s business in Mexico and the U.S. is cement?”
    Hunter nodded. “The bags weren’t from Chel Balam International.”
    Not that the wrapping proved anything. Buying bags of cement mix was about as complex as buying tortillas.
    “Yet you still came to me,” she said.
    Silently he watched her, waiting for her to realize there was no way out.
    “This is extortion,” she said.
    “You want me to walk away, I’ll walk,” he said, reaching for the photos.
    “And talk, no doubt,” she said bitterly, smacking his hand away from the photos.
    “Does that mean you want me to stay?”
    “It means that I have no choice. And we both know it.”
    “I’ll pay for your time and expertise,” Hunter said, letting out a hidden breath of relief.
    “I’m not a whore with a Ph.D. Now shut up and let me concentrate on these photos.”
    Hunter shut up.

C HAPTER F IVE
     
    S OMEWHERE BEHIND H UNTER, A MAN WHISTLED DOWN THE hallway outside Lina’s office. Someone else called out a greeting. The air conditioner made mechanical sounds.
    Hunter counted the books in one of Lina’s bookcases. Twice.
    After a very long silence, Lina asked, “May I take notes?”
    “As long as you don’t show them to