Back in their sumptuous inn suite, the pressure stewed. Angela, her originator dress disposed of, paced the extravagant carpet, her disappointment apparent in each walk.
"Who was that lady?" she requested, her voice bound with outrage and a imply of fear. "And how did she know around the artifact?"
Carl, his forehead wrinkled in concentration, examined news reports on the stolen artifact put over the tv screen. The occurrence had caused a media craze, encourage complicating their mission.
"No recognizable proof however," he answered, his voice tight. "But the specialists are addressing her. Possibly able to learn something there."
Victoria, abnormally stifled, sat roosted on the edge of a sofa. The turmoil in her eyes reflected the storm brewing inside them all.
"She said her father,"
