Dr. Barrett’s voice echoed in her thoughts. She didn’t need to impress Mr. Mallard, she only needed to concern herself with the dagger, its scabbard, and ensuring its safe journey back to MoVA.
“You okay, Miss Samuels?”
"Please call me Tara, and I'm fine," she forced herself to tell him. The scenery drew her attention out of the window where traffic and city sights shifted to the beachfront property as they drove further from LAX.
“Alright, Tara, we’ll be there soon enough.”
The coldness sat between them like an iceberg. Every possible situation that could go wrong played in her mind, which only enforced the distance wedging itself between her and the handsome bodyguard. A part of her wished she could ogle and objectify him like those women in the airport, but at the moment, she just didn’t care. She opted for silence instead, with the occasional tune or commentary from the radio interrupting her thoughts.
When they pulled up to Mr. Mallard’s sprawling estate, there were bronze duck statues mounted on top of ten foot high stone posts at the front gate. A gold monogram stared at them from the center of the wrought iron bars while a guard approached the car.
"Names?" the guard asked, leaning toward the window to see if there were any other people inside.
"Ben Reynolds, Whitestone Security." He handed the guard a business card and a driver's license. "And, this is Miss Tara Samuels with the Museum of Vintage Arts. We're here to retrieve a package from Mr. Mallard."
The guard nodded before disappearing behind a column with continuous glances toward the vehicle. A minute or so later, the gates opened for them to enter the grounds. Tara couldn't hide her amazement at the property. A plush green lawn with pine trees lining the perimeter of the iron fence. The driveway brought them up the middle and wrapped around a koi pond. Gold accents on the windows and siding sparkled in the afternoon sun.
“This is so lavish and quite over the top.” The words spilled from Tara’s lips as Mr. Mallard greeted them from the front door. He stood a portly few inches shy of six feet. His dark strands sparsely placed in a horseshoe combover made him appear as eccentric as the bronze ducks placed around the lawn.
“Afternoon, you two, I wasn’t expecting you until this evening,” Mr. Mallard held his hand out for Tara and Ben to enter his home.
“Sorry about that,” Ben told him as they followed the odd man into the house. “I didn’t want to hold you up any more than we already have.”
The inside seemed to match the out as a three-foot-tall duck statue balancing a tray on its head stood beside the door. It freaked Tara out. Eccentric is one thing, but an obsession is another.
“I’ll need your identification,” Mr. Mallard stated, leading them into a library off to the side of the entrance. “Forgive me for not providing the tour, but I realize that you probably want to get on your way.”
“Yes, Sir, we do,” Ben told him with an inquisitive glare surveying the entrance.
“Mr. Reynolds, Miss Samuels, if you’ll follow me, you can verify the authenticity of the items, and I'll have my security team verify your identity. We can get you two on your way back to New York straight away."
Mr. Mallard led them through a library, a set of French doors, and into a study tucked away behind the library. On top of the desk sat a large black metal case with clasps and combination locks. Mr. Mallard leaned against it, waiting for his security team to finish verifying his visitors. Once they did, he went through the lengthy process of opening the case. It was everything Tara hoped for, and more.
4
“Well, I’ll be a monkey’s uncle,” Ben gasped at the sight before him. “The pictures don’t do this thing justice.”
“I know,” Tara echoed while opening her messenger bag. She tiptoed toward the piece like a thief with the Mona Lisa in their sights. It made him chuckle as the world seemed to disappear around her.
Ben took a step away from the case to let Mr. Mallard and Tara work with the pieces. A deep burgundy velvet lined the inside of the metal case, which opened lengthwise. The dagger and its sheath were positioned inside of a thick plastic case. He watched the two slip on pairs of white cotton gloves.
“What are you going to do to it?” Ben asked.
In her element, Tara’s confidence beamed. She took a leather case from her bag that held an assortment of vials and tools. “I’m running simple tests to verify the gold. I’ll have to send samples to MoVA and a lab for them to run some tests to date the samples. All of this has been done, but I'm still running a 10-point analysis. Speaking of which, I have to get a few people on the phone for this. May I have your Wi-Fi password, Mr. Mallard?"
Ben watched her work and video conference with three other people. He only recognized Dr. Barrett from his photo in the original dossier. While they conversed at length with Mr. Mallard about the Egyptian pieces, he decided to take a step out of the room. Something didn’t sit well with him. It nagged at his gut. He didn't want to think there was any danger to what they were doing, but anything involving gold and what others consider treasure brings to it folks who like to steal such items.
His eyes kept wandering
