Annja looked around the loft. The big room had a fourteen-foot ceiling. Shelves filled the walls and sagged under the weight of books, rocks, artifacts and other finds. Her desk sat overflowing with open books, sketchpads and faxes. File folders, although everything was in order about them, stood stacked in haphazard piles. A sea of technology washed up around the desk: scanners, digital cameras, audio equipment, GPS devices, projectors and other items that she found useful. Despite her love of history, she loved technology, too.

She'd had every intention of cracking the notebook computer open and working on what she'd found out about the coin and the Brotherhood of the Silent Rain. But it felt so good to be home. Instead, she barely made it through a shower and into an oversize T-shirt before she collapsed into bed.

Her thoughts were of the sword. Had she really held it? Had the taxi driver really seen it? Was she losing her mind… ?

The annoying sound of a ringing phone penetrated the haze of sleep.

"Good morning," Annja said. Without opening her eyes, she rolled over in bed and struggled to think clearly. She felt as if she'd been on cold medicine.

"Don't you mean 'Good afternoon'?" the caller asked. NYPD Homicide Detective Bart McGilley always sounded way too chipper, Annja thought grumpily as the words slowly registered.

She opened her eyes and looked at the skylight. From the hard, direct shadow on the varnished floor, she knew it had to be around noon.

Glancing over at the bedside clock, she saw the time was 12:03.

"Sorry." Annja pushed herself up from bed. She never slept this late. "You woke me. It's taking me a minute to catch up with myself."

"When did you get in yesterday?"

"You mean what time did I get in this morning?"

"Ouch. That's harsh. You must have slept hard."

Annja sat on the edge of the bed. "Why?"

"I called three times already."

"I didn't hear the phone ring."

"Lots of fun in France?" Bart sounded a little envious. He'd told her more than once he could find his way around New York City blindfolded. Seeing something new would have been welcome.

"Hardly." Annja yawned and suddenly realized she was ravenous. "Did you find out something about those prints I sent you?"

"I did. We need to talk."

"We are talking." Annja heard the hesitation in his voice. It wasn't something she usually heard in Bart McGilley.

"Face-to-face," he told her.

"Is it that bad?" Annja stood and walked to the window. She moved the curtain aside and peered out. She loved the view from the building. The streets were filled with pedestrians and cars.

"Are these fingerprints new?" he asked.

"Would that make a difference?"

"It would make it weird. Bad may follow. I've noticed that with you. You archaeologists sometimes lead strange lives."

You, Annja thought, remembering the Brotherhood of the Silent Rain and the disappearing sword, don't know the half of it.

"Besides," Bart added, "I've missed talking to you."

"I need to get dressed," she told him.

"I could come over and help."

Annja smiled at that. The thought was a pleasant one that she'd entertained before. Bart McGilley had great eyes and great hands.

The problem was, he was the marrying kind. He couldn't deal with a relationship where all things were equal. Getting involved with him would mean a regular struggle choosing between relationship and career.

And Annja couldn't leave archaeology. There were too many wonders out there just waiting to be discovered. She could share her life, but she couldn't give it up. Finding a guy who could meet her halfway was going to be hard, and she wasn't even sure she wanted to look.

"I appreciate the offer," Annja said, "but I'm sure you have better things to do."

Bart sighed. "I don't know about better, but I know the captain's kicking tail for me to move some files off my desk."

"So we'll meet for lunch," Annja said. "I'll buy. Where to you want to meet?"

"Tito's?"

Tito's was one of their favorite Cuban restaurants. It also wasn't far from her loft.

"Tito's sounds great. Are you in the neighborhood?"

"If you hadn't answered the phone this time, the next thing you'd have heard was me knocking on the door."

"See you there in twenty minutes?"

"If you show up in twenty minutes, I'll be the guy with the surprised look."

Annja arrived at the restaurant in twenty-seven minutes. She dressed in jeans, a fitted T-shirt, a leather jacket against the cool breeze and carried a backpack containing her computer and accessories.

She also turned the head of every male in the restaurant. After everything she'd been through the past few days, she indulged a moment of self-gratification.

Tito's carried the flavor of Cuba in the fare and the surroundings. The smoky scent of fajitas swirled in the air. Spices stung her nose. Lime-green seats and yellow tables filled the hardwood floor. The drinks came crowded with fruit and a little umbrella.

"Annja!" Standing behind the counter, Maria Ruiz waved excitedly. Plump and gray-haired, she was in her sixties, the mother of Tito, and the chef who made the kitchen turn on a dime. Nothing escaped Maria's sight. She wore a short-sleeved floral shirt under her apron.

"Maria," Annja said warmly, and stepped into the short woman's strong embrace.

"It has been too long since you've been with us," Maria said, releasing her and stepping back.

"I've been out of the country," Annja replied in Spanish.

"Then you should come and bring pictures," Maria said. "Show me where you have been. I always enjoy your adventures so much."

"Thank you. When I get everything ready, I'd love to."

Maria wiped her hands on her apron. "Let me know when. I'll make a special dessert."

Annja smiled. "I'll look forward to that." And I'll have to go to the gym for a week afterward. Still, she loved Maria's attentions, even if she had to pay for it in extra workouts.

"Do you need a table?" Maria asked.

"Actually, I'm meeting someone."

Maria's eyebrows climbed.

"I'm meeting Bart," Annja said, laughing.

"He's a good-looking man," Maria observed.

"Yes," Annja agreed, "but I think he already knows that."

Maria waved her comment away. "You could do much worse."

"I know."

Shaking her finger in warning, Maria added, "You're not getting any younger."

Chagrined, Annja smiled and shook her head. If Maria had her way, she'd already have her married off.

"He's here already. Come with me." Maria led the way through the packed restaurant, calling out instructions to the busboys, urging them to greater speed. She also dressed down a couple of waitresses who were lingering with male customers.

Bart sat at a table in the back that offered a view of the street. He was six feet two inches tall, with dark hair clipped short, a square jaw that was freshly shaved and wearing a dark blue suit with a gold tie firmly knotted at his neck. He stood as Maria guided Annja to the table.

"You look like a million bucks." Bart pulled out a chair.

"You see?" Maria pinched Bart's cheek. She spoke English so he could understand. "You see why I like this one? Always he knows the right thing to say."