Abe did not attempt to get Hellboy's attention, reluctant to interrupt. Instead, he continued toward the tents that had been set up for the BPRD operatives at the edge of the archaeologists' camp. Voices carried, some of them hushed with worry and grief, but others filled with the enthusiasm an endeavor such as this always created.
He passed between two tents and emerged at the center of the camp, where the entrances to most of the tents opened. In front of the nearest of the BPRD tents, Neil Pinborough smoked a filterless cigarette, gaze roving as always, gun slung across his shoulder. His dark skin seemed almost blue in the early evening gloom.
"Hello, Abe," the man said, amiably enough. They'd worked together only once before, and didn't know each other well, but it seemed as though everyone felt comfortable calling Abe by his first name.
He'd never been sure how he felt about such intimacy from acquaintances.
"Agent Pinborough," Abe replied. "Evening. Has Professor Bruttenholm heard anything further from Dr. Manning, do you know?"
Pinborough nodded, drawing another lungful of smoke. When he spoke, it ghosted from his mouth like hot breath on a winter morning. "He did, yeah. It's all sorted. Manning's sending a cadre of our people and the U.N. have struck a deal with Beijing. Joint mission between U.N. and Chinese military. Couple of hundred, if I heard it right. They'll deal with Nakchu. Part of the reason Redfield's flown Lao down to Lhasa."
Abe sighed. "I almost feel bad for them."
"Yeah?" Pinborough said, glancing around again, his eyes always in motion, watching for more incursions from the dragon-men. He plucked his cigarette from his mouth, wet his thumb and forefinger on his lips, then snuffed the burning tip with a pinch before slipping it into the breast pocket of his military jacket.
That was the kind of operative Neil Pinborough was--he wouldn't leave a trace of his presence behind if he could help it. When dealing with such men and women, Abe often wondered why the Bureau put up with its more unique agents. He and Hellboy and Liz had been trained, of course. But none of them had ever been very skilled at the espionage sort of tactics that were standard fare for other BPRD field agents.
Then again, Pinborough and the others couldn't light fires with their mind, breathe under water, or pummel a Hydra into submission with their bare hands, so maybe there had to be a give-and-take.
"Did Professor Bruttenholm say how long before they would arrive?" Abe asked.
Pinborough spoke as though to himself, all of his attention focused on the nighttime landscape around them. "Two or three days. After that, the rest of us go home and leave the grunt work to the grunts."
"A lot of things can happen in three days," Abe replied.
A troubled expression crossed Pinborough's face. He turned to Abe as though he were about to ask a question. The moment was interrupted by Professor Bruttenholm, who appeared from within the largest of their tents.
"Ah, good evening, Abe," the old man said.
Abe nodded. "Professor. I have troubling news."
Bruttenholm smiled. "Of course. Nothing is simple here. Do come in." He stood back and held the flap of the tent aside.
As Abe started toward him, he heard a low sound like distant thunder and felt the ground tremble, just slightly, beneath his feet.
His stomach lurched. He stared down at the ground, then quickly looked up at the professor. "Did you feel that?"
Bruttenholm frowned. "Feel what?"
It happened again, the slightest tremor.
Abe glanced back and forth between Agent Pinborough and Professor Bruttenholm. "We don't have three days."
Inches. Maybe a foot. Hellboy had never been so aware of distance as he was of the small space separating him from Stasia as they started down the hillside toward the shore of Lake Tashi. That gap between them seemed somehow charged to him, like the air heavy with moisture and electricity right before a storm. Anastasia had seemed awkward when he'd run into her, just a few minutes before, and she'd been acting skittish ever since. Her gaze shifted away from him, and she seemed constantly on the verge of putting into words whatever troubled her.
But Hellboy didn't push. He wasn't the type. And truth to tell, he had a feeling it might be dangerous for Anastasia to say out loud what troubled her.
"You're sure the museum's not going to pull you off the project?" he asked.
Anastasia had her hands thrust deeply into the pockets of a lamb's wool jacket. Her New York Yankees cap was nowhere to be seen. Her strawberry blond hair seemed golden orange in the moonlight. Hellboy took short strides as they went down the slope together, his long jacket flapping in the light wind. He kept his hands at his sides.
When Anastasia shrugged, she kept her hands in her pockets. He wondered if she sensed the charge of the space between them the way that he did, and guessed that she did.
"Once they've read the BPRD report and the statements of my staff, they won't pull me. They'll send an additional team including someone to replace Mark Conrad--probably Tott Peck, who's a decent bloke--and the newcomers'll have orders to keep an eye on me. Once all the excavation is done and it comes down to nothing but cataloging and photographing, they'll call me home. Which is fine, really. You know the initial discovery and interpretation is my real love. Then I like to move on."
Hellboy glanced at her in time to see her frown at her words and her eyes narrow with wrinkles of worry. She shot him a sidelong look, almost guilty, and he realized she was reconsidering her words, wondering if he would read any deeper implication into them.
"Tott Peck?"
She blinked, careful as she picked her way down a tumble of stones. "Hmm?"
"That's someone's name? Seriously? Tott Peck?"
Anastasia laughed a bit too much. "His name's Tottenham. Apparently where his parents conceived him. Some apartment on Tottenham Court Road. The sort of precious thing Americans do all the time, giving their children such names. Tott's parents are from Boston, but moved to London before he was born. If they've got to send someone to watchdog me, I hope it's him."
Off to the right, Hellboy saw Abe walking between two of the tents the BPRD had set up beside the archaeologists' camp. But here, in the shadow of the ridge where the city of the Dragon King was being excavated, no one was around. Everyone was either up at the dig or in camp. Hellboy and Anastasia walked together down to the shore of the lake, undisturbed.
At the water, they paused to stare out toward the far shore. Until now, they'd been talking about the horrid events of the morning and the deaths of Sima, Rafe, and Dr. Conrad. Professor Kyichu would be leaving the expedition, apparently. He wanted to take Kora home. Hellboy couldn't blame him. Anastasia was sad to see him go, but she understood.
Now, though, all discussion of work came to an end.
The space between them fairly crackled. The lake's surface rippled in the night breeze.
"How long before the BPRD sends someone to deal with Nakchu village?" she asked.
Hellboy glanced away from her, the moonlight on the lake suddenly fascinating beyond its beauty. "I don't know. Haven't spoken to the professor about it. A few days, I'd guess. Probably BPRD and United Nations."