Chapter 3
Ian started up the steps, his footsteps soft as possible. He whispered into his headset "Shaw, three minutes. Go."
There was a commotion some corridors ahead and raised voices let Ian know where to go. He rushed past the apartments, keeping to the shadows as much as possible.
"No. 6, no. 6..." he muttered to himself, searching for the door. No. 6 was a blank door, as normal as the grey apartments right beside it. Ian crashed into it, pushing his full weight against it, and it fell, with a resonating thud.
The walls were covered in patriotic American posters, of presidents and historic moments. There was an ordinary little fridge and oven, a sink with piled washing up, and two doors lead off into a bedroom and bathroom. It was simple, brief, like the home of a man who thought more than he worked, and had a deep interest in his country's legacy.
"Shaw, we're clear." he told him, on the line.
Shaw walked in slowly, eyes flicking around in every direction, sensing for danger. He checked the rooms, finding no-one, and relaxed.
"Where is he? He was supposed to be back by now."
"Benjamin Gates is supposed to be very hard to pin down, Shaw. Maybe he saw us coming and left."
Shaw flipped through the books and files on the desk. He put the door back in place and turned wild-eyed to Ian.
"Shaw, no! We're working!" Ian told him, shaking his head.
"Aw, come on! He won't be back for a while. And it's so hard to resist… You're wearing those skinny jeans I bought you, aren't you? They look good…" Shaw groaned, winking at him.
Ian smirked, then shook himself. "No! Shaw, are you trying to seduce me?!"
"Is it working?"
"No, it is not! We agreed not to do this, especially on the job."
Shaw sighed dramatically and flopped out on the bed, his shirt ruffled up, displaying defined muscles.
Ian bit his lip, torn by indecision. He gave in, locked the door and joined him, removing the shirt completely. He kissed his lips and collarbone, Shaw's eyes ravenous. They got to a point where clothing was unnecessary- when the front door slammed. Shaw dressed himself quickly, reaching for his gun.
"Crap, he's home! Ian, get dressed!" he hissed, alert and annoyed.
Ian lay on the duvet, reluctant to leave and breathless. He sulkily shoved on the sweaty clothes, taking the safety off his gun and fixed a dangerous look on his face.
"Hello, Ben."
Benjamin Gates was peering in a cupboard, looking in surprise at the two men. He was rugged and tall, very good-looking with brown hair and a clever, determined attitude. He frowned at them, suspicious.
"Are you Ian?"
Ian smiled, his heart racing still. He checked out the man before him curiously, attracted by the confidence and intelligence radiating from him. He noticed Shaw's brow furrow, clearly jealous.
"You called, Ben. My investment in a certain treasure hunt of yours?"
Ben relaxed, but was still on guard. Ian smile got wider.
'He's no fool. I know I'm going to like him. Very handsome, too…' Ian thought.
"Yeah. Okay, um, have you accepted my proposal? The Templar Treasure? We need to get to the Arctic, find Charlotte. It might get expensive. And dangerous." he warned.
"No problem. I have a crew, and all expensive has been covered. We only need you, Ben, and a computer expert."
Ben laughed. "I know where to find one."
