“They’re my responsibility,” she stated.
“No,” he shook his head, “My company was hired to protect those artifacts. You-”
"I was sent here to make sure they make it from Point A to Point B. It's a packaged deal, and you left me," her voice shook, "You left me here!"
"I thought you'd stay in the room, or at the very least, call me when you got up and saw that I wasn't there."
Tara finished grabbing her things out of the fray, “How am I supposed to do that without your cell number?”
"You really didn't read through the file for this thing, did you?"
“We already went through that! Stop trying to shift the blame to me!” she shouted at him, “Short notice remember?!”
His phone buzzed before he could drill into her about preparing for this job. Whitestone security flashed across the screen as he answered the call, “Reynolds, here.”
"Ben," Rork spoke firmly, "No one has 20 grand to throw down on a private jet. I've tried, and every affordable scenario means sharing a jet or travel space. Commercial flights are out of the question. You can’t board a flight carrying a dagger, even an ancient one. It would have to be checked and transported with the cargo. The Insurance Underwriters and the Museum Board would never agree to that. I thought we could have worked something out."
"Doesn't he care that his employee was just attacked or that we were run off the road?" Ben asked.
"The short answer is no," Rork admitted, "Honestly, Ben, we knew the dangers in transporting something as valuable as these artifacts. We were just hoping it never came to this. Dr. Barrett is adamant that they're only to be handled by you or Miss Samuels. You have to drive them back. In the meantime, we're still having a hard time tracking the guy from the rental agency who got the pickup truck. We only have a partial image, and that's too grainy to be useful. He's probably ditched the truck by now, anyway. What do you want to do?"
“I don’t know,” Ben sighed, “I have to be honest, Rork, I’m feeling completely unprepared for what we’re up against. Any chatter about who wants these pieces?”
“None as of right now. I’ll keep you posted. Do you want me to have Tate come out there?”
Ben ran his fingers through his hair, shooting a look at Tara standing in front of the room. He shifted his gaze out to the parking lot. He wanted to get out of there. Doubt began to crawl inside of him, pushing his insecurities to the forefront about returning to the job too soon. He let out a huff, "Yeah, maybe you should. I don't know if-"
Rork cut him off, "No! If I send Tate to you, it's to help you out, not takeover. This is your case. You're not injured, and Miss Samuels is going to be fine, right?"
"Yeah, she's just got a bump on the head. I'll keep an eye on her for any signs of a concussion. Man, what if this is like before?" Ben asked.
Rork sighed with sorrow pouring over the line, "Ben, you really have to let that go. That wasn't your fault. Our job is to protect the person or item on the contract. We cannot do our jobs perfectly every single time, and we can't protect people when they do things to put themselves in jeopardy. I'll see if Tate can come out there to help you with some temporary back up, but that's it. Once we figure out what's going on with these artifacts, he's heading back here. I know you want the help, and I know you're more than capable, Ben. Besides, this is still a business, Dr. Cheapo at the museum isn't paying for the extra manpower. I am. Museums are notoriously underfunded for security. I already asked before I asked about the jet."
Ben rubbed the bridge of his nose trying to soothe his rising nervousness and trying desperately to keep from pulling at his hair. “Okay. We’re playing this by ear then. I’m going to deal with the motel’s incidentals and make sure Dr. Barrett is aware he has to pay the insurance deductibles to cover this and any damage they find on that rental car.”
“Already done. I’ll give you a heads up when Tate’s on his way.”
“Wait, isn’t he on a case?”
“He was, but the client needs to go to some small country island that Tate’s been banned from.”
Ben stifled a laugh, “Who gets banned from an entire country?”
"My baby brother," Rork stated with palpable frustration, "Something about the Prime Minister's daughter, a camel, and some tanker trucks full of oil. I don't know. It doesn't matter. He can't go.”
“So he’s sitting around the office bugging you. I can use the manpower.”
"You two aren't going to buddy cop this, Ben. He's only coming there to do reconnaissance for you. You have two days with him, tops. You and Tate are out of MoVA’s budget. Don’t try to convince him to stay for free either! This is a business. I hate that I have to remind you guys of that all the time. Again, I’ll shoot you a message when he’s in the air.”
“Fine.” Ben hung up the phone to see Tara still in a trance staring into the room. He sidled up next to her and spoke softly, “Tara, did you go through any of it?”
She jolted with a start at the sound of his voice, “No. My bags?”
He rubbed the back of her shoulder to ease her anxiety, “Your suitcase and purse are in the car. I laid you on the bed to get some rest. Your phone was on the nightstand
