A Hank Boyd Adventure: Blood and Sand Part 7

"They are in my black-zone, also known as my s.h.i.+t list. You don't want to be on that. It generally ends badly."

I laugh and give his shoulder a slap of my own, "I bet."

Dad climbs into the front pa.s.senger seat while Kane and I open our respective back pa.s.senger doors. Before we climb in I look over the roof at Kane, "So, Dr. Jeremy Kane, is it?"

He looks up at me with a shrug and a grin, "I have a PhD in bulls.h.i.+t, but, yes the name really is Jeremy." I nod and we climb in. We buckle up as Omar pulls out onto what pa.s.ses for the main highway.

I extend my hand to Kane and say, "Nice to meet you, Jeremy."

Kane does the same, "You too, Harrison." I wince, not in pain, but at the use of my birth name, immediately regretting my attempt at being a smarta.s.s.

Omar pulls us into the left lane and quickly accelerates to 60 miles per hour. It's a relatively short 30 minute drive from the Djanet airport to the small town outside the site. The A.C. is blowing hard and feels incredible in this brutal heat. I tip my head back and shut my eyes. But, before I nod off I get a nudge in the side. I look over at Kane.

"Watch this," he whispers. He pulls out the biggest bullet I've ever seen. Must be one of his 50 caliber rounds, I think. He taps on my dad's shoulder, "Here Dr. Boyd, take a look at this."

Dad nonchalantly takes the object without noticing it. Then, I hear him gasp and he turns and looks back at us.

"What's this?" he asks. He holds the bullet up for everyone to see, including Omar, who glances in his rearview mirror.

"This, Dr. Boyd," Kane plucks the huge round from Dad's fingers and removes one of his Desert Eagles from his pack, ejects the magazine and inserts the bullet. He glances up and notices Omar staring at him, eyes wide.

Kane slams the magazine back in hard; with more force than needed I'm sure, though he gets the desired effect. Omar noticeably flinches and the Land Rover swerves just a hair to the right.

Kane holds the intimidating weapon up and says, "This is what happens when someone screws with me."

15.

He stepped out from inside a home on the corner of the small street facing the open desert, lifting a phone to his ear. He had to cup his hand around the mouth piece in order for the caller to hear him over the howling wind.

"Have they arrived, Whitten?"

Tommy Razor' Whitten rolled his eyes at the shear disrespect his employer had for him and the other people in their organization. The only reason any of them continued to put up with him was because the pay was good...and that the man gave everyone the creeps. If any of the stories were true about the man known as Wolf, then they had the right to be.

Tommy just hoped this job was over soon and that he could get back to his home in San Diego, where the weather was always perfect. Not like this place, he thought to himself. He hated the heat.

The people who hired Wolf and his team were a mystery to him, very suspicious for sure, but they paid and that's all that mattered.

"Yes they have, just now," Tommy replied. He could see a black, weather-worn SUV pulling in from his vantage point further down the street.

"Do they have transportation waiting for them?"

"No, they will have to travel on foot and so will we. There aren't any vehicles allowed in the park. If we try to break that law we may bring more attention to ourselves then we would like."

"I agree. When do they leave?"

"From what our man said they plan on leaving immediately, sir."

"Alright then," replied the caller.

"Do we proceed as scheduled?" Tommy asked.

There was a pause, causing an uncomfortable silence.

"Sir, you there? Wolf, you copy?"

"I'm here, I'm here," replied Wolf sounding annoyed.

"We shouldn't have an issue with them. It's just the one man that may cause a problem, a government agent escort."

"Ah, yes. The one they call Kane, I know this one. A formidable man for sure, but as you said, it's just one man. It shouldn't be a problem."

Tommy could hear the threat in his voice when he said shouldn't, meaning something bad would happen to those who failed him.

"I'm sending you-"

A door slammed nearby.

Tommy hid behind a low fence, peaking out just enough to see the tall, well-formed woman step out of a nearby home waving her hand towards the incoming vehicle. His eyes lingered on her a little longer, like a lion on its prey, before turning his attention back to the conversation.

He backed away and rounded the rear of the house, out of sight. Now in the protection of the shadows behind the "procured" home, Tommy stood straight and lifted the phone back to his ear.

He could hear an angry and concerned voice on the other end. The concern wasn't for his own well-being, Tommy knew, but for the mission. At the end of the day he and his fellow team were expendable in the eyes of the Wolf should things go sour.

"No, nothings the matter, my apologies. There was interference on my end." The sight of the stunning blonde was still burned into the back of his retinas. It took everything in him to remove the image of the woman from his memory and refocus on the task at hand.

Then he remembered where they left off.

"How many are you sending?"

When he heard the number of men coming to back him up he was shocked...and a little put off. He didn't need that much help. Did Wolf have no faith in him? The answer was pretty obvious.

"That many? Is it necessary?" He immediately regretted questioning his field commander.

"It would be wise for you not to question my decision making, Mr. Whitten."

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. When can we expect them?" Tommy asked with a quiver.

"Six hours," Wolf said, back to his naturally calm, unnerving tone. "Your back up will arrive in six hours."

They ended the conversation without another word, just a click and the Wolf was gone.

Tommy leaned against the home's siding and slid down to the ground. He rested his head back against the wall and closed his eyes...thinking.

Man, I hate working for this guy. He could intimidate a T-Rex.

Getting some of his resolve back and feeling like he was just castrated, he then stood and brushed off his pants, rolling his neck.

Okay, six hours it is.

Tommy strode by the shed in the backyard, entering the small home. Inside the shed, which housed yard equipment and other various objects, were bodies of the two people who lived there, or should he say...used to live there.

16.

We are staying in a quaint village, on the border of Djanet, about ten minutes from the site. Omar knows the husband and wife that we are bunking with. They seem to be very pleasant people. He said we can trust them, that they house travelers regularly. It's a consistent source of income for the couple and common practice for some of the town's residents.

We have to pay them $100 a night, but to them it's more like $1,000 a night. But hey, we're on government funds now, what the h.e.l.l do I care. Still, it would have been nice to have the quality of a $100 a night hotel...or at least a free continental breakfast, but c'est la vie.

Plus, seeing how these people live is heartbreaking. They reside in a cozy little ranch-style home on the edge of town with a herd of sheep in their backyard and absolutely nothing else. There is very little the home is furnished with that isn't used daily. At least we can help them, if only a little.

Now, when I said the dig site was ten minutes away...I meant by car. Unfortunately, this is a nature preserve, so no driving unless it's an emergency. I guess us not wanting to sweat any more than we have to doesn't count to the authorities. Also, Dad really doesn't want to tread any more than we already have on the land. Something about erosion and not leaving a footprint and yadda, yadda, yadda. So, we're walking. I actually don't mind though, the hike gives me time to think.

We quickly stopped in, paid the couple for the week, and unloaded some of our gear we wouldn't need at the physical site. The wide-eyed look at handing over hundreds of dollars to this couple made me smile a little. They graciously thanked us and left us to ourselves, knowing we are in a hurry. We exit the home and get on our way, just me and my thought and- "This is such bulls.h.i.+t!"

I'm rudely interrupted from my day dreaming. I glance over at Kane and see him wiping his face down with a very damp handkerchief.

"Is that hankie soaked because of your face or did you dump water on it?" I ask.

He wrings it out and says, "All me babe, all me."

"How can one man perspire so much?" Omar asks looking appalled.

"I'm from Montana-Big Sky Country. It gets hot for like two weeks out of the year there and never like this. But this?" Kane waves his hand in the air motioning to the landscape around him. "This is friggin' torture." He puts his hat back on, "Look, all I'm saying is that no one said there was going to be a 30 minute trek through the desert."

I glance up at his head.

"Is that a fedora?" I ask.

Kane looks at me and gives me a sheepish grin.

"I couldn't help it. When I found out I was being rea.s.signed here I had to pack one. Plus, I've always fancied me some Indiana Jones."

Aw c.r.a.p, I think. I close my eyes and shake my head, visibly embarra.s.sed.

"Funny you should say that, Kane," My dad adds on. "Harrison was named after Dr. Jones himself-or rather the actor who portrays him."

I hear an excited gasp and look over to see Kane smiling ear-to-ear. He claps his hands together saying, "That is so awesome!" Then a look of epiphany forms on his face and he gives me a grin of his own. "You know how cliche it is that you yourself are an archaeologist, right?"

"The thought never crossed my mind, Lennie." I can see he doesn't recognize the jab I just gave him by referring to him as the mentally challenged character from John Steinbeck's, Of Mice and Men, but, I feel a little better. Then I get on the defensive-a natural reaction to someone bringing up my famous first name.

"By the way, I'm not technically an archaeologist. I'm a digger. I don't even have a degree. Heck, I barely graduated high school."

"How does the famed, Hank Boyd, have no formal education or training?" Omar asks laying on the sarcasm.

I answer, "Education is what you study and how you digest the information. The training part was easy."

Omar just stands there waiting for me to finish my answer, but I don't get to give him one. It comes from someone else.

"On the job, Mr. Jafari, he learned his trade on location with some of the best and brightest," my dad says, actually looking proud. "Better than any university could offer."

"A boat-load cheaper too!" Kane exclaims.

"Two boats actually," I say holding up two fingers like a peace sign.

"Just remember one thing, Mr. Jafari..." Dad pauses choosing his words carefully. "Just because my son doesn't have the t.i.tle Doctor in front of his name or a PhD after it, doesn't mean he's completely incompetent."

I give Dad an annoyed look since he decided to emphasize the word completely.

"Really?" I ask.

"Also, while I'm impressed with Harrison's work, I still would have liked to see him get a formal education. It may have cleaned up his personality a little." Now I get the same look back from my father but, I also get a slight nod from him too.

All I can say is, "Thanks?" Not quite sure how to respond to the back-handed complement he just paid me, but sadly, the admiration doesn't last.

"You should be!" Dad barks. "You'd be laying in the gutter somewhere if it wasn't for me!" He turns and starts back towards our destination, the excavation's command tent. It's where all our project gear that was sent ahead of us is stored.

All I can do is stand there. I have nothing to say, so Kane says it for me.

"You and your father have the weirdest relations.h.i.+p," he says with a laugh.

"You have no idea, big guy. You should have seen what it was like when I first started with him, when I was completely incompetent..." I let out a sigh. "Let's go."

The last leg of the journey continues in silence.

We make our way around a few large mounds of sand that were cleared away from the center of the site. From the air it would look like a circle of sand outside an inner loop of tents, not unlike a wagon circle in the wild-west. Just inside the ring of tents is the dig site. The tents act as a buffer to help keep out the strong winds coming in from the desert, which if violent enough could re-bury our prize in short order.

A delay like that could cost us more than just time, I think, replaying the attack in Algiers and how I almost died.

We enter in through the rear of the main tent, the hub of the dig site. There are all kinds of equipment lining each side. On the left wall is shelving with different types of tools along with work benches filled with samples of various kinds of rocks. The right wall has more work stations, but these are filled with computers and a variety of microscopes and a.n.a.lysis machines, neither of which I'm completely versed in. And by completely versed, I mean not versed...at all.

But, none of these hold anyone's attention. Everyone is gathered by the front entrance. Kane stands off to the side holding open the flap so everyone can see what's outside. I have to push through the crowd a little to see what all the commotion is.

What I see is like nothing I could have imagined.