Gabriel's Horn by Alex Archer

friend to have.”
    “Trust is a big issue with me.”
    Saladin favored her with a smile. “You can trust me.”
    “You sent those men after me,” Annja argued.
    Saladin shrugged and grinned again. “All work and no play tends to dull the minds of the men working for me.” He gazed at her intently. “You’re a cipher to me, Ms. Creed. I don’t like ciphers. How is it you know both Roux and Garin Braden?”
    “That’s none of your business, but I will tell you this—the Nephilim painting you’re after? I don’t know anything about it.”
    Saladin studied her and she noticed that one of his eyes was of a slightly different color than the other. The left one held a splash of green in the upper-right quadrant.
    “Even if that were true,” he said slowly, “those two men value you.”
    “Those two men,” Annja countered, “left me to my own devices while knowing full well that you were hunting me. Does that sound like they value me?”
    Annoyance deepened Saladin’s scowl. “I guess the only way to truly know that is at your funeral.” He got up from the chair and left the room. Annja heard the lock click behind him.
    * * * *
    Hours later—Annja didn’t know how much time had passed because she didn’t have access to her watch or any of her electronics—another man entered the room. He looked around cautiously, almost a little fearfully.
    “Miss Creed?” he asked. He held his briefcase in front of him like a shield. He looked as if he was barely into his twenties. Youth left his face soft and round. Glasses gave him a vulnerable look. His hair was already getting thin on top.
    “Yes.” Annja made no effort to get up from her chair.
    “I’m Walter,” the man said in a nervous voice. “Walter Gronlund. I’m with the State Department.”
    “Don’t tell me. The United States government wants to place me under arrest also.”
    Walter pushed his glasses up his nose with a forefinger. “Actually, no. I’m going to get you out of here.”
    Annja breathed a sigh of relief and hoped that what the little man was saying was true. “Forgive me, but do you happen to have any identification?”
    “Of course.” Walter reached into his jacket and took out a leather identification case. The photo ID looked just like him and announced that he worked for the United States Embassy in the Czech Republic.
    Nervously, Walter settled his briefcase on the table. “I think they’ve got someone coming with your things from the hotel.”
    That puzzled Annja. “Why are they bringing my things from the hotel?”
    “That way you don’t have to stop on your way to the airport.” Walter checked his BlackBerry. “We’re getting a police escort to the airport, so getting there in time for the flight shouldn’t be a problem.”
    “What flight?”
    “Your flight, Miss Creed. Your visa has been canceled. Effective immediately.”
    Annja couldn’t believe it. “They’re kicking me out of the country?”
    “That’s an awfully blunt way to look at it, Miss Creed.”
    “Is there any other way to put it?”
    “Actually, I believe I did put it another way. They’re rescinding your visa.”
    Stunned, Annja slumped back in her chair.
    15
    Despite the impatience that screamed through her, Salome forced herself to sit quietly in the plush chair amid all the other potential buyers. She knew many of them. Over the years, they’d all crossed paths. Many of them watched her covertly and quickly glanced away when she looked in their direction.
    She had a reputation, and she was quite aware of it. In fact, she took a certain amount of pride in that reputation. She’d worked hard over the years to attain it.
    The auctioneer called for the buyers to bid on another item. He was a fastidious man in a good suit. His voice, though quiet and controlled, was far larger than he was.
    Two young women, both dressed in low-cut gowns that threatened to expose them, presented an antique silver tea service. After they had the item