"I know the procedure." Joel moved toward the wall and turned on his flashlight. "But we're not going to find anything. Give it up, Emily."

"Your approval rating has just gone down five points. Be quiet and just look." She didn't blame Joel for being reluctant to waste time here. This job had gone wrong from the time they had arrived in Afghanistan. They were supposed to have been sent to Iraq again but had been diverted to Kabul. Then there was the snafu with the military escort, and when they arrived here, the museum had been deserted and the supposedly priceless artifacts as disappointing in value as Joel claimed. Well, all she could do was do the job and hope the next one went better. She turned on her own flashlight. "I want to get out of here, too. But I need to leave knowing that I didn't miss anything."

"Yes, boss," Joel said. "It's only fair to tell you that I'm rethinking the hard-bitten shrew."

"I'll live with it." She started going over the walls, first visually, then with the tips of her fingers. "I'll just watch a DVD of Casablanca when I get back to town, and maybe I'll remember that some men are willing to sacrifice what they want now and then."

"That hurt. When you were down with flu, didn't I do your paperwork on that job in Chevnov? I'd say that was a gigantic sacrifice."

"You only did it because you wanted to use it to blackmail me for the rest of my career." It was a lie. Joel had been as caring as a mother with her child when she had been ill. He had found her a decent doctor and finished the job in Chevnov himself. No one could be a better friend than Joel had proved to be. She'd be devastated both personally and professionally if she lost him. "Check those walls."

twenty years old and had probably been used in the garden in the back. The few wooden storage boxes piled across the way had already been searched and deemed not worth transporting. "You check that wall. I'll do this one. If you see any cracks, any thickness that might conceal a compartment, give a shout."