The old woman raised her eyebrows. “From my own observation, they seem to be chaffing one another about as much as they’ve always done.”
“But lately there’s been an underlying spark to their banter that’s almost palpable,” the scrivener said gloomily.
“And you disapprove of romance in the workplace?”
“Hardly,” Griffin retorted. “Given the type of work we do, it’s unlikely any of us would meet a suitable mate anywhere else. It’s just that...” he trailed off.
The memory guardian waited patiently for him to collect his thoughts.
“This is very awkward. I shouldn’t even be thinking such things,” Griffin demurred.
Faye reached out to pat his arm reassuringly. “I won’t breathe a word of what you say.”
The scrivener sat up straight. “Right then. I worry about the two of them together as a couple. Erik takes a very casual view of romance. I think Cassie could do better. There I’ve said it!” Griffin looked as if he wanted to snatch the words back again instantly. He blushed to the roots of his hair.
Now it was Faye’s turn to sit forward anxiously. “Is there some bad blood between you and Erik?”
“Good heavens, no! I didn’t mean to imply that at all. Erik is brilliant. In the field, there’s no one better.” He hesitated for several seconds before continuing. “It’s just that I’m afraid it won’t end well if the two of them become involved. It would be a volatile combination.”
“Isn’t that the general idea in a romance?” Faye observed.
Griffin shook his head gloomily. “I’m reminded of Friar Lawrence’s speech in Romeo and Juliet. ‘These violent delights have violent ends, and in their triumph die, like fire and powder.’”
“And you’re afraid of what exactly?”
“If one of them were ready to end it before the other, I’m afraid Cassie would be hurt.”
“But you aren’t concerned about Erik being hurt.”
The scrivener laughed sardonically. “He won’t be on the receiving end; you can be sure.” Then he repeated, “She could do better.”
Faye sighed. “It is so difficult to stand by and watch those we care about walking into trouble.” She gave him a keen look. “They wouldn’t thank you for interfering.”
“I know that.” Griffin stared down at his clasped hands. “It has to run its course, whatever that may be.”
Faye was silent a moment, weighing her words carefully. “Cassie is fortunate to have such a disinterested friend.”
Griffin’s eyes flew open wide. He searched the old woman’s face intently, alarmed at her veiled inference. “She would never think of me that way. Never!”
The memory guardian smiled thinly. “The pity of it is that you would like her to, wouldn’t you?”
Griffin blushed even more furiously than before. “It’s ludicrous to imagine she ever would! You’ve seen Erik—handsome fellow. Blond hair, green eyes, muscular physique. The only sort of woman trouble he’s ever known is how to keep them at bay.”
Faye paused to study the young man seated across from her: his full head of chestnut hair, expressive hazel eyes, chiseled features, and tall, slender build. “My dear, it’s obvious that you don’t own a mirror,” she said, stifling a chuckle. “Let me be the first to inform you that you’re far from a homely creature yourself.”
“That may be.” He brushed aside the compliment. “But I am bookish. Women never go for bookish chaps. It’s the swashbuckling hero they all want. On a field mission, my physical accomplishments are limited to tripping over my own feet or getting shot at highly inconvenient moments.”
Faye rested her chin on her hand, considering his words. “From what I’ve heard,” she reflected softly, “Cassie has proven quite adept at taking care of herself in the field. I don’t believe she needs to be rescued by a swashbuckling hero.” She paused. “Have you considered that she and Erik might be a bit too much alike?”
Griffin refused to be comforted by the observation. “I’m being ridiculous. Please forget everything I just said. I hardly know what I want or whom.” He continued to stare at the floor, refusing to make eye contact. “She could do better than me as well,” he added bitterly.
Faye rose to go. She rested her hand gently on his shoulder as she passed him. “I’ll leave you to the rest of your packing. You need some time to sort out what to take with you and what to leave behind.”
Chapter 6—Plagued with Difficulties
Abraham limped rigidly off the elevator into Dr. Aboud’s underground laboratory. He silently cursed the aches and pains that had begun to make themselves felt in his knees, his back and even his finger joints. He’d never felt really old before. The cares of recent months were taking their inevitable toll. He feared that before long he would need the assistance of a cane.
The diviner impatiently dismissed the thought and turned his attention to the foreign doctor who stood waiting to receive him. Aboud had traded his expensive suit jacket for an immaculate white lab coat. For the first time in Abraham’s memory, the mysterious little man actually seemed pleased to see him.
Giving a slight bow, Aboud extended a hand to his benefactor. “You are very welcome here, Mr. Metcalf. I and my staff are making great progress.”
“So, you have no cause for complaint this time, Doctor?” Abraham asked pointedly.
The doctor was in too good a mood to take offense. He shrugged off the comment. “All is as you promised. All is as I wished it to be. The design of the facility. The supplies I require. The skilled staff to execute my orders. Everything is quite satisfactory.”
Abraham gave a curt nod. He looked around the reception area which appeared as it would in any normal office setting. A coffeemaker on a table, magazines scattered about, chairs and couches lining the walls. His gaze traveled down a hallway that led off to the left. At the very end was a stainless-steel door with a glass inset. He began to walk toward it. “I wish to tour
