Free Secret Assignment by Paula Graves Page B

are on the table?”
    “Well, for now, I’m doing a little surveillance. Probably going to be doing that awhile, so I don’t want y’all to worry.”
    “Easier said than done.”
    “I really do know what I’m doing,” he assured her.
    “Okay.”
    “You making any headway with the archiving?”
    “Just opened a big box of things that look intriguing,” she answered, real excitement in her voice. “Tons of history, right at my fingertips. I know it sounds silly, but it’s like—”
    “Like hitting a moving target at five-hundred yards in bad weather?” he asked with a smile.
    “I suppose so,” she replied, laughter in her voice. But the amusement faded quickly. “Be careful. Check in often so Lydia doesn’t worry.”
    He wondered if she was worried, too. She’d seemed anxious when she walked him out that morning, and when he’d looked back toward the island as the Hatteras cut through the Gulf water, she’d still been standing there, watching him drive away.
    Movement on the deck of Ahab’s Folly drew his attention back to the issue at hand. “I’ve got to go.”
    “What’s happening?”
    “I’ll call back soon,” he promised and shut off the phone.
    A tall, muscular man in his late twenties came out on the deck of the Azimut and started washing down the suspended Bayrunner, his movements oddly violent for such a mundane task. Judging by the man’s size and exaggerated body movements, he must have been the big guy who’d crashed through the woods last night, earning the censure of his leader.
    One down, three to go.
    * * *
    D ESPITE THE CARDBOARD box full of letters, papers and journals sitting in front of her like a treasure trove of history, Shannon’s thoughts kept wandering across the bay to Terrebonne and Gideon Stone’s “surveillance,” as he’d termed it. She couldn’t help wondering—and worrying—about how easily he could be recognized. He was a big man, a distinctive man. After less than a day of knowing him, she was pretty sure she could have spotted him in any crowd.
    What made him think the men who’d invaded the island, men who clearly knew enough about him to have tried to avoid storming the island while he was around, wouldn’t recognize him as well?
    Focus, Shannon.
    She picked up one of the journals, a thick, pocket-size notebook with a hard cover. Inside, instead of the daily diary of activities she’d expected, she found a series of letters that clearly formed words, but no language she’d ever seen before.
    Lydia was in the kitchen, elbow deep in chopped lettuce for the Greek salad she was preparing for lunch. Shannon hesitated interrupting her in a task that seemed to give her a great deal of contentment, but her curiosity overcame her reluctance.
    She carried the journal to the kitchen. “Lydia, have you ever seen anything like this before?”
    Lydia set down her chopping knife and looked at the journal, her brow furrowed. “Quite unreadable, isn’t it?” she asked, sounding puzzled.
    “Could it be another language?”
    “Edward was fluent in many, as am I, but this is no language I’ve ever come across,” Lydia said firmly. “Perhaps it’s code.”
    Shannon had guessed as much. “Did your husband deal in code very often? Maybe in his work?”
    “There was a lot about his work that he couldn’t tell me.” Lydia looked apologetic. “Anything to do with any mission was off limits until afterward, and much remained off limits entirely.”
    “Preserving mission integrity.”
    Lydia smiled. “Loose lips sink ships.”
    “Do you mind if I take a crack at this later? I took a code-breaking class in college and who knows?” She waggled her eyebrows at Lydia. “Maybe I’ll discover a state secret.”
    “Just don’t tell me,” Lydia laughed.
    “Because then I’d have to kill you?”
    “Exactly!” With a smile, Lydia turned back to her salad making. “Did Gideon say whether he’d be back for lunch?”
    “I believe he plans to grab a bite on