Chapter Eighteen
Nick and I parted ways with mutual promises to stay in touch. The thought of having an unofficial partner or mentor was unfamiliar. I hadn’t had to work alongside anyone since my time with the FET. Surely, working with me in the U.S. couldn’t be as potentially deadly as doing so in a war zone.
Before I left Laurel, I called Peter Amelin. He answered on the third ring with a heavily accented “Hello.”
I introduced myself and explained the problem, leaving out the nasty little details. “Would you be able to determine anything about the objects’ authenticity from a cell phone photo?”
“Hmmm.” It was the lowest C on a pipe organ. “I can’t really authenticate them, in the strictest sense. I’d need to give them a spectroscopic analysis for that. But I could look at the photos
