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Smith’s prosaic words shake me out of my internal freeze.
“Sure,” I say, peering again down the dark passage and then plunging inside.
Following the tunnel for a few yards, we come to an elaborately painted wooden door standing wide open. Whoever was here last either didn’t have the time to shut it or forgot to.
“Go on,” Smith says impatiently.
Holding my breath, I step through the doorway.
Winter and the soldier press in after me, and we enter a room hewn out of the living rock. On the floor, to the right, a patch of lighter stone catches my eye. The size and shape are that of a big, missing trunk. That, and the wooden door we found ajar, point to an earlier pillaging. One that must’ve happened centuries ago.
“Hey, Professor,” Smith calls. “Point your flashlight this way.”
I follow his voice to the opposite side of the chamber, illuminating several large wooden boxes painted gold. About ten by twenty inches in size, they’re stacked against the far left wall from the ground up.
“Wow,” Winter says, adjusting the headlamp on her forehead so that it points directly at one box. “What do you think is inside?”
Just as she finishes talking, her light flickers. The device sputters for a few seconds and then goes completely dark.
“Hey.” She takes the headlamp off and beats it on her palm to revive it, with no effect. “It’s dead!”
“Nothing to worry about,” I say. “Mine’s working just fine.”
We return our attention to the boxes, and I train my light on one at the top and take it down. Even if the room is dry, the lid appears to have rotted over time. Still, a golden lock keeps it secured to the base of the box. I tug at the lock gently, not wanting to break anything, but it doesn’t give way.
Smith lets out a sailor’s curse and pushes me to the side, saying, “Let me handle it.” Before I can stop him, he punches the covering, his fist smashing through the rotten wood.
“Hey!” I protest. “Are you crazy? We need to preserve these boxes; they’re artifacts of inestimable value, no matter what they might contain. From now on, you won’t touch a single—”
The soldier interrupts my reprimand with a scream of pure joy. “Gold!” Smith plunges his other hand into the box as well and then draws both out full of gold coins that slip through his fingers to go tinkling down to the floor.
I’m momentarily stunned—both by the sight of all that gold, and also by his egregious mistreatment of precious ancient artifacts. Then I regain my wits and shout, “Stop! We will not move anything before it’s been properly identified and cataloged. Do I make myself clear?”
“Ah!” Smith says, replacing the coins, “but I have a friend here who begs to disagree with you, Professor.”
“What friend?” I say, confused.
The soldier flashes me a grin that sends a cold shiver down my back, while Winter positions herself next to me, touching my arm from behind.
“Logan,” she warns in a low voice.
“See, Professor, Uncle Sam’s retirement package isn’t as generous as I’d like. I’d be more than happy to round my pension up a little.” And then, with a snicker at the boxes, he adds, “Or a lot, if you know what I mean…”
Comprehension finally dawns. “You mean to steal the gold!”
Smith scoffs and cocks his head at Winter, who’s hiding behind my shoulder. “A bit slow, isn’t he?”
I make to step forward, but Winter holds me back while Smith points his rifle at us.
“Are you for real?” I ask incredulously. “You’ll never get away with it.”
“We’ll see about that,” the mercenary says, leering up into my face. “For now, you be a good boy and try not to make my friend”—he pats his M16—“angry. You wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to you or the lady.”
I’d kill him with my glare if I could, but sadly eye daggers are the only weapons I have. He has me beat, and he knows it.
“Great.” Smith nods. “I see we understand each other. Now, shall we explore the rest of the chamber? I’m sure we’re all interested in seeing what other treasures it might hold.” With the barrel of the rifle, he directs us forward. “You go first, and don’t try anything funny.”
Still holding the only source of light on top of my head, I walk deeper into the room until I come across a nook about four feet deep and shaped like a bow window. Three stone chests rest below its arch.
