“Suit yourself, Mr. Hunt. I will simply allow you to leave, after you show me what you found in the pyramid, that is.”
“We didn’t find anything.”
Daedalus’ eyes narrowed. “That’s not what my divers said. Where is the bronze head?”
Hunt’s heart sank. His information was solid. He had to buy some more time until…until what, he wasn’t even sure — until the police showed up? Until he thought of a plan? “We dropped it during a fight with your divers. It fell back into the pit. I’m sure you could find it if you dive it a few times.”
Again, Daedalus stroked the stubble on his chin while thinking, this time with an amused expression. “I’m sure we could find it if we turn a few tents upside-down. Something tells me I should start with the one you just came out of.” He brought the megaphone to his lips and shouted into it, in Greek, his native language. A few seconds later, two men trotted over with automatic rifles aimed at Hunt.
“Search this tent,” Daedalus commanded. His two armed henchmen nodded and advanced toward the research tent, one of them with the muzzle of his weapon trained on Hunt while the other swept his gun back and forth while approaching the tent.
Jayden tensed as he lay in a prone position on the side of the tent entrance with the automatic weapon aimed at the door. He could only imagine Maddy was going crazy with not knowing what was happening — he doubted she could even hear the exchange outside — but he applauded her patience, for she had been quiet so far. But then he began to worry that she didn’t have enough air underneath the tarp. What if she had passed out from lack of oxygen?
Keeping the muzzle of his weapon trained on the tent entrance, he backpedaled carefully to her, extra-wary not to trip over a crate or computer cable. He could hear multiple sets of footsteps nearing the tent.
“Maddy! You okay?” He whispered the question sharply, hoping to indicate that it was urgent while also reminding her to answer in a whisper as well. They did not need to give away their presence.
“I’m okay! What’s happening?” The breathy response lifted Jayden’s spirits.
“Bad guys with guns are coming into the tent. Stay put, Don’t move until we tell you to.”
“Roger that.”
Jayden then moved away from the tarp, passing the patch of dirt where they’d buried the bronze head, and over to the side of the tent behind a pile of crates containing computer networking equipment.
Hunt’s voice sounded at the entrance to the tent. “I’m telling you, there’s no bronze head in here, or any other artifacts for that matter. This is the computer tent. It’s where the eggheads do their research, which means Googling stuff online and applying for more grants so they can keep coming out here to do more digs. Super-boring.”
“Shut up and get inside,” came the gruff, megaphone-boosted reply. Hunt came stumbling into the tent, hands above his head. He looked straight ahead but his eyes darted about until he fixed on Jayden’s inert form off to his left, firearm at the ready. He made sure not to show a reaction and kept walking until he was fully inside the tent, then stood in place with his hands still up. Behind him, a gunman of Mideastern descent followed in his footsteps, his eyes darting about the tent but failing to notice Jayden, who had flattened himself behind a stack of crates.
He made a quick visual assessment of the room and then whirled around and shouted to his boss. “Lot of stuff in here. Send in two more men to search.”
Staring straight ahead, Hunt winced. With at least three of them searching, it was certain they’d find Jayden and Maddy. And possibly even the bronze head. From outside the tent, Hunt heard Daedalus call out two names through his megaphone. Seconds later, additional footsteps ran toward the research tent.
Two more men, also of Mideastern descent, entered the tent. Although armed with pistols, their weapons were holstered. Immediately they began opening crates and rooting through them, looking for artifacts, in particular the bronze head. Meanwhile, the Treasure, Inc. member with the assault rifle kept it trained on Hunt’s back while standing just inside the tent entrance.
As the search proceeded, the two men grew increasingly frustrated, overturning boxes and dumping out equipment, kicking it over and cursing as they moved from crate to box to crate. One of the men tipped over a table of computer gear, and a printer landed on the blue tarp on the ground. A sharp female cry emanated from beneath it.
Hunt sucked in his breath. Maddy! He watched as the two searchers froze and their hands went to their holstered pistols, drawing them.
“Hold your fire!” Hunt shouted. “She’s unarmed. Hold your fire!”
He heard rapid footsteps behind him and then felt a booted foot impact hard against the small of his back, sending him flying into the upturned table. He flopped over it in a heap, landing on the blue tarp. He considered using the momentum to roll away and make a stand, but his better judgement overcame the impulse. That was the kind of reckless action that got people killed. He wasn’t Rambo, he knew that.
Hunt lay still after landing, stretching his arms out and splaying his hands to show he was still unarmed. The man with the submachine gun moved around the mess until he was aiming his weapon at the tarp. He growled menacingly. “You under the tarpaulin, come out from under there, slowly. Any funny business and you die.”
“Listen to him, Maddy,” Hunt said. He knew she had no experience in combat or adversarial situations such as this and was afraid she might try something he wouldn’t be able to get her out of. He didn’t like using her real name, either, but decided it was worth it under the circumstances.
The tarp rippled and a white arm crept out from beneath it, followed by Maddy’s shoulder and head. She pulled herself out until only her feet were still beneath the tarp and lay there unmoving, face down on the ground.
“Dr. Chambers, I presume?” The voice of Daedalus, unamplified, emanated from the tent door.
“Yes, it’s me. This is my dig. Who are you and what do you want?”
“I’m looking for a bronze artifact, the head of a statue. Have you seen it?”
Maddy replied without hesitation. “I have not.”
“Do you understand the consequences to yourself and your team should I discover that you are lying to me?”
“What makes you think you are above the law here?” Open defiance crept into Maddy’s voice.
Hunt interjected. “He makes a living stealing artifacts that belong in museums — that belong to the public at large — and selling them on the black market instead to wealthy private collectors with no scruples.”
“Ah, Mr. Hunt, but Treasure, Inc. is so much more than that. A pity you do not understand.” The voice of Daedalus was even and without emotion.
Hunt persisted. “I understand that you have been looting priceless treasures for over two decades now, Daedalus. It must be an addiction for you.”
Daedalus appeared unfazed. “At its heart, Treasure, Inc. is an import-export business. I simply match commodities with prospective buyers. But yes, I do take a certain satisfaction in a job well done, like any business owner, I suppose. So if you consider that an addiction, please sign me up for your twelve-step program, Mr. Hunt.”
“You and Pablo Escobar must have graduated from the same business school,” Hunt sneered.
While the exchange went on, Daedalus’ men continued to root through the tent, overturning crates, equipment and tables, ransacking the place. Daedalus folded his arms and watched over it all with a smug expression. Hunt mustered all the strength he had to contain his nervousness as his men walked back and forth over the area where the head had been buried. They didn’t pause there, though, and no sooner had he gotten over that fear than a new one cropped up.