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The colonel nods. “Our medic will have a look at your colleague, and we have a helicopter on standby. I’m calling it now. We’re flying your friend to Bangkok.”
When the helicopter arrives, there isn’t a stretch of flat ground large enough for it to land, so they hover as close to the ground as they can and pass down a stretcher.
The two soldiers holding Archie upright act as human crutches as he limps toward the gurney.
“On my belly, please,” Archie pleads.
The soldiers help him turn and lower him down, securing him to the cot.
Logan and I kneel next to Archie’s head, the wind and noise of the rotating blades roaring above us. Logan takes his hand and shouts, “I’m going to see you soon!”
“Yeah, not so easy to get rid of me,” Archie jokes feebly. His eyes flick to me. “I owe you my ass, Snowflake—twice over!”
Fresh tears threaten to spill from my eyes, and I bend down to stamp a soft kiss on his left temple.
“Please stand back,” a medic in uniform requests. “We have to hoist him up now.”
We take a step back and crane our necks up, waving as Archie is hauled onto the helicopter. The men on board pull him in, and then the powerful machine rises higher in the sky and quickly disappears from view.
“Dr. Spencer,” Colonel Sanchez calls. “The embassy has arranged for a military convoy to escort you from the nearest village to Trat’s airport. Horses should arrive soon to transport you back to the village. I assume you’ll all want to leave today, yes?”
“What about the site?” Logan asks, the archeologist in him prevailing over the exhausted man.
“The Thai police are on their way to secure the perimeter and make sure no pillaging takes place.”
Even after the colonel’s reassuring words, the struggle is easy to read on Logan’s face. Part of him wants to stay and ensure his discovery is not tampered with, but the rest of him is dying to be at Archie’s bedside.
Dr. Boonjan drops a heavy hand on Logan’s shoulder. “Go look after your friend,” he says. “I can stay behind and make sure everything is handled properly. I watched them load the treasure onto that poor mule—I’ll make sure that’s properly cataloged as well.”
“Are you sure?” Logan asks. “You don’t want to go back, take a shower, sleep in a real bed?”
Dr. Boonjan’s lips part in a rare grin. “I’ve slept in worse places, and I’ve never taken a more scenic bath than by the river here. You, on the other hand, look like you could use that shower.”
Logan, his face and body still covered in mud, laughs. “I suppose we could.”
“Take care of Archibald,” Dr. Boonjan says. “I’ll handle things here until you can come back.”
Logan nods at him, and then turns to Colonel Sanchez. “Colonel, we’re ready to leave whenever you are.”
21
WINTER
Two days later, in Bangkok, I wiggle my toes under the foam of the bubble bath I’m taking in the hotel’s tub. We checked in last night, after first visiting Archie at the hospital. His prognosis is good. Our sweet Viking will be back on his feet in no time.
“If you stay in that tub any longer,” Logan calls from the adjoining room, “you’re going to turn into a mermaid.”
I stare at the skin on my fingertips; indeed, it’s already all wrinkled up. I don’t care, though, I’m not getting out of this tub for anything in the world.
“I’ve ordered dinner,” Logan says.
I don’t reply.
“Burgers and champagne.”
Okay, now he’s got my attention.
“And I’ve planned something special for dessert.”
