“That’s not all,” Drake said, not giving Leila a moment to let Soliman’s words sink in. Drake took a step forward and picked up the stamp. With one hand gripping the crook of her arm, her eyes examined the jackal’s head in her other. A thumb traced along its pointed ears and snout. “The government is keeping tabs on us. If they don’t like what they see, they’ll throw us in the sandbox. Or worse. So, you’ll need to be careful from now on.”
“Why? I’m not a Medjay.”
Drake took another step forward, then held out the seal. “Actually, I would say you are.”
• • •
Xander sat in the dim lighting near the back of the auditorium, one foot strapped into a clunky brace. He had propped it on the back of the empty chair in front of him while resting his elbow on the notebook-sized desk, chin in hand.
His glare was directed at his foot. A constant reminder these past two weeks of his failure. He and Leila had made it back alive, thanks to Emma who had sworn she would never let them forget. And they were grateful. Indescribably so. But what had he actually done to help? The question gnawed at him with every painful step he took. The inescapable fact was: he’d only made everything worse.
His foot would eventually heal. The pain would subside. And somehow he’d move forward. Somehow he’d make up for his failures. And that was what had brought him here.
The professor on the stage droned on and on in Arabic about Aristotle and the concept of spontaneity. Dressed in a simple polo shirt tucked into his khakis, the lanky professor seemed more suited for a golf course than a lecture hall.
As the topic turned to metaphysics, Xander only half-listened. He wasn’t signed up for this course, but nobody checked three hundred heads for attendance in these prerequisites, anyway. The other half of his mind waited for the notification light on his phone to start blinking. Leila should be done with her meeting with Soliman. She wanted to get back to work as soon as possible. He was sure they could work something out, but was eager to hear the details. They would be important for future arrangements.
Rustling noises came from his side as someone sat down a couple seats away.
“An archaeologist in Cairo.” The newcomer chuckled softly. “Brilliant cover, really. Could almost have been my idea.”
Xander didn’t have to look to know who had arrived, so he kept his eyes on the stage. The lecturer motioned with a laser pointer at something on the power point being projected behind him.
“Professor Zahir Ibrahim Hassan Al-Fulan,” the man next to him muttered. “Recently linked to a terror cell in London. The rest of the information is in the file.”
A few moments of silence passed between them as Xander mulled over the man’s words, careful not to look at or acknowledge him.
“You know what to do, Agent Harrison.”
Another soft rustle met Xander’s ears. He glanced over, and the man was gone. A backpack sat in his seat. Xander grabbed a strap and pulled it over, then unzipped the top a few inches.
The black handle of a handgun shifted into sight. He zipped the bag up, then settled his gaze back on the professor, who paced on the stage as he raved about a book he’d co-authored. The invisible weight of dread slowly pressed down on Xander’s chest.
Yes, he knew exactly what to do.
EPILOGUE
Two months later...
Leila marched past the trenches, making a beeline for the trailer parked on the other side of the excavation site. Her fingernails dug painfully into her palm, and despite the heat of the midmorning sun, a cold sweat trickled down her forehead.
Someone had better have an explanation for this. A good one. She didn’t spend her entire life working hard to make it here in Egypt for her career to be ripped out from under her feet like a rug. Tomorrow the team should start cleaning up for summer break—not defending themselves in front of a committee.
Who could be so careless?
She turned the corner of a crumbling wall and caught sight of Soliman and Xander walking along the path, shovels perched on their shoulders. The sight of the two of them together again on a dig would normally overwhelm her with the warm fuzzies. This time, her heart felt like it would explode from panic. She stumbled up a rocky incline toward them, the racket causing their heads to turn.
“The site’s contaminated,” she panted once she reached them.
“What do you mean?” Soliman’s mouth dropped. “It can’t be.”
“I wish I was joking.”
“What did you find?” Xander asked, a look of concern shadowing his features.
“I don’t know,” Leila squeaked. She shrugged and dropped her hands with a loud clap against her thighs. “I was walking past the north side trench. I looked down and I saw… something. It looked out of place. So I climbed down and dug it out.”
She glanced at Xander, whose face had paled.
“And you didn’t see what it was?” he asked slowly.
“No.” Eyes closed, she shook her head. “It was obviously modern, though. So I ran to find you.”
“Something modern buried in our trench?” the professor huffed. “This is serious. If we get cited for contamination, our credibility could be stripped.”
Xander stepped forward and placed a hand on her elbow. “I’m sure there’s an explanation. Maybe someone dropped something. Why don’t you show me?”
“Good idea, Xander. I’m sure you two can sort it out.” Soliman then lifted his shovel an inch off his shoulder. “I’ve got to unload the jeep.” He slapped Xander on the back.
Leila blinked. Soliman was taking this well. Extremely well. He seemed to be hiding a smile when he turned.
Xander slipped an arm around her and they walked back to the trench in question. “Don’t worry. Something must have fallen out of someone’s pocket. It happens. We’ll figure out who it was and make sure it doesn’t happen ever again.”
“People shouldn’t keep personal items in their pockets while digging. It drives me crazy.”
“I just don’t see how the site could be contaminated,” Xander mused. “We’ve been in phase for weeks and there’s never been a sign of previous excavation. No records, either.”
“All I know is that I had to actually dig the thing out. It wasn’t lying on top as if it was put there by accident.”
