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that takes care of that , she thought, twisting the knob and easing the door open. After a quick check to confirm that the courtyard beyond was still deserted, she stole forward, keeping to the shadows, and scaled the fence in the same spot she and Pierce had used to enter. As she waited for a car to clear the nearby traffic circle, she stripped off her black over-garments and stuffed them into a nearby storm drain. Clad in denim shorts and a T-shirt emblazoned with a silk-screened likeness of the Acropolis, she looked like a young tourist out for a late-night stroll. She hoped Pierce was having as easy a time sticking to the plan.
    She crossed the street and skirted along the edge of a city park, heading west, not moving toward a specific destination but putting as much distance between herself and the museum as possible. The noise of the alarm had already diminished, but she could hear police sirens in the distance.
    “Need a lift?”
    The voice startled her. She had been so focused on getting away that she had failed to notice the car pacing her. A quick glance showed a man with wavy blond hair leaning out the side window of a blue sedan. He looked old—probably as old as Pierce, who had to be at least forty. The man immediately raised her hackles. The last thing she needed right now was some perv hitting on her. She looked away, trying to send a clear ‘buzz off’ message with her body language, realizing only then that the man had spoken in English.
    British, judging by the accent.
    The man called out again. “You’re here with George Pierce, aren’t you?”
    The question startled her, and she came to an abrupt and unintentional halt. She forced herself to resume walking, refusing to give any further acknowledgement, but her mind was racing to make sense of the situation.
    “I saw you come out of the museum just now.” His tone was offhand, casual.
    Fiona stopped again. This time, she gave him more than a cursory look. Aside from the fact that he had approached her out of the blue, after evidently stalking her and Pierce, there was nothing particularly scary about him. Somehow that only made the situation worse.
    “The police are going to be here soon,” he continued in the same unruffled manner. “I’m sure they’re bound to notice me following you, and since I have no intention of just driving away, you should probably ask yourself whether you want to attract their attention.”
    Fiona muttered a curse under her breath. Under any other circumstances, she would have welcomed the arrival of the police. “Who the hell are you?”
    “My name is Liam Kenner. Dr. Pierce and I are colleagues.”
    “Never heard of you.” It was true. Fiona had been attending classes at the University where Pierce taught. She knew everyone in the department, and most of the other archaeologists who came and went on a regular basis. The name Kenner did not ring any bells.
    “We were acquainted several years ago.” Kenner paused a beat, then set the hook. “When he first began his search for Hercules.”
    If she had not already been standing still, Fiona would have tripped over this revelation.
    “I’ll tell you all about it,” Kenner went on, “but I really think we’d both be more comfortable if you joined me. I don’t bite.”
    Fiona desperately wanted to beg off, citing the old wisdom about not taking rides from strangers. Something told her that Kenner might be more dangerous than a random sexual predator, but the mere fact that he knew about Pierce’s connection to Hercules convinced her that not knowing was even more of a risk.
    “Well, I do,” she said, trying to keep the fear out of her voice. “If you try anything…” She let the threat hang. Kenner merely smiled.
    As she circled around to the passenger side, Fiona stuffed her hands in her pockets, trying to make the gesture seem as casual as possible. The fingers of her right hand closed around the wallet containing the lock picks. They would be very