She tiptoed over to one of the cloth-covered objects, keeping a wary eye on the door, and carefully lifted the cloth. She sniffed. The odor was strong, almost pungent, like . . . that was it, clay! She squinted at the object and decided it was a sculpture, but she couldn't make out any detail. Maybe he was shipping drugs inside sculptures. She dropped the cloth and moved to the next object, which was obviously a painting. As she lifted the cover she gasped. It was either an original or an excellent copy, signed by Andy Gordon. Remembering the pictures on the walls in the house, she wondered if it was a forgery. Surely Yancey wasn't involved in art theft as well. She dropped the cloth as she heard tires crunching on gravel. A quick glance through the window revealed the black car stopping beside the building.
Her heart raced as she frantically searched for a place to hide. A 55-gallon barrel stood in one corner with rags hanging over the edge. She squeezed behind the barrel as the office door opened. Yancey stepped out and glanced out the window. She cowered into her hiding place, trying to breathe softly in spite of her state of panic. Yancey strode across the room and opened the door, allowing the man in a black suit to enter. The man came right to the point.
"Is the shipment ready?"
Yancey inclined his head toward the table and the man's eyes followed, lighting up.
"A big one this time." He eyed Yancey suspiciously. "I didn't see the girl at the pool. Is she still staying with you?"
Yancey's expression sharpened slightly. "Yes. Maybe she was in the house. She had a rough day yesterday."
The man frowned and gave Yancey a stern look. "You need to do something about her."
Yancey scowled at him. "I'll do things in my own good time and in my own way," he responded in a gruff voice.
The man gave him a sharp look. "Just don't let her interfere with the business."
Yancey's yes flashed and his jaw tightened. He crammed his hands into his pockets and answered in a cold voice. "You've got a good job as a middle man, but don't let it go to your head. You're not running this operation, so you'd best tend to your own business and let me take care of mine."
The man shrugged and handed Yancey an envelope. "It's all there, and thanks for the business." He carefully picked up the box and Yancey followed him out to the car.