Hit Hard. Amy J. Fetzer
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Fontenot was silent for a moment. “It’s not your fault.”
Sam tensed, as Sebastian voiced his feelings. “I went after the runt, if I’d stuck closer—”
“The dam would have broken anyway.”
“I was his backup. I left it unguarded.”
“He didn’t get shot in the back, either. That hit was at point-blank range. Intentional. And if the dam hadn’t caved, you and Max were next.”
Sam’s lips tightened and he fingered his hat, then suddenly turned away.
“Where are you going?”
Sam didn’t break stride. “To find a bar, or the bastard that shot him. Whichever comes first.”
“He’s miles away or probably dead.”
“He better hope so.”
Sebastian muttered a curse. “Wait, take this.”
Sam stopped, half-turned, eyeing Sebastian’s approach. He held out a palm sized, grayish-white rock. “Riley’s fingers were locked around this so tightly it cut into his hand.”
Sam plucked it, holding it up. Prisms of light shot through it. A conflict diamond. Uncut, bloodstained.
And from the look of it, the biggest puppy the market had seen in a while.
Two
Archaeological Restoration Dig
Udon Thani Caves
Northern Thailand
“Xaviera, I found something.”
Viva flinched, smacking her head on the tunnel ceiling. If she didn’t recognize the voice, she’d have known who it was instantly. No one ever called her that anymore. Viva backed out of the narrow tunnel, giving the dig workers and Dr. Nagada an embarrassing view of her butt in shorts. Clearing the tunnel, she rolled to her rear, pulled her scarf off, then blotted her face.
“More pottery?” That’s all there was here. Aside from heat. Spending long, humid days brushing at powdery bits of dirt to reveal a single shard was, well, a real snoozer. Probably why she never did it for very long. Face it, you never do anything for very long.
“Would I truly bore you with something so uneventful as that?”
“Yes. You would. Remember the dig outside Giza? The third one,” she said before he could ask. “I trekked through the Sahara to see some pieces of a sarcophagus.”
He looked adorably affronted for a wizened old man. “For a queen to Ramses I.”
“Whoop-dee-do. He had hundreds, and just as many kids. Which is so the way to go if you’re a pharaoh, but if you’d found the rest of her, that would be something to crow about.” She stood and didn’t bother to untie the rice sacks strapped to her knees.
“You were more fit and eager for the discovery then.”
“Yes, well, so were you.” She tugged a lock of his long white hair. He had a dashing look about him: white hair, dark brows, rugged features, and she adored Salih. He let her join his digs whenever she had the urge. “So what’s this find?”
“Come see.”
“The suspense is killing me.” Probably a whole pot this time.
He handed her a bottle of cold water. She cracked it open, drank and when they stepped out into the sun, she poured half over her head, shook like a dog, then wiped her face. Then she dumped a bit down the front of her shirt.
He stared at her, neither frowning nor smiling. “You are such an odd woman.”
She fanned the material. “I don’t see you in the tunnels baking like pita bread.”
His face, weathered from years in the desert sun, wrinkled like a dried apple as he grinned. “I promise, this you will like.” They walked.
“You’re so sure?”
“It’s jewelry.”
“Will it go with my shorts?”
He laughed, guiding her to the second cave. A portion was a dwelling where they’d found more than pottery—a rudimentary hearth, sleeping quarters, and even a drainage system. Got to love those ancient Thai, she thought. They were quick on the draw. Imagine, plumbing in the BC days. They didn’t even have plumbing on the dig. That was just wrong.
She ducked under the canvas tarp and into the cave. Low rock ceilings tickled her hair, the corridor lit with electric lamps, yards of cables leading to the generator outside. She wished they had enough juice for air-conditioning. Wasn’t in the budget.
She almost ran into Dr. Nagada as he squatted, pointing to the corner of two blocks. “See? And it appears to be gold.”
Viva knelt, pulling her brush from her back pocket and swiping lightly.
“Your technique has improved.”
“I’m trying the Van Gogh style of brushwork. Oh, wow, this is incredible. Get that side, it’s sandwiched between something else.” She glanced up to make certain she wasn’t going to pull the whole dig down on top of them. Which would be so her.
She brushed and worked the rocks loose, and was suddenly touched that he’d let her do this. With Salih’s direction, she gently pulled the item out, then handed it to him. He brushed it, blew off the dust, and she stood, then moved with him to the lights.
“It’s a bracelet, a cuff. Excellent condition, must be gold.” The two inch wide band was hammered and etched with markings almost too worn to see. “It’s particularly small. A child’s perhaps.”
“In here?” Viva said. “This was just the average Joe’s cave dwelling, and we haven’t found anything like that before.”
“And we are not done, either.”
The man had the patience of a saint. No, two saints. After years of excavating around Egypt and Israel, and digging up all there was, he’d offered his services elsewhere. Cambodia, Laos, Thailand, and once on the island of Timor. If it was lost, he’d find it. Even if it took years. Viva admired that kind of diligence. She could barely find her panties before breakfast.
Salih walked toward the entrance and Viva dogged his heels. At a worktable shielded with a shade tarp, he brushed the cuff some more, then dipped it in a solution, rinsed and dried it.
He met her gaze. “It has stones.” He held it out.
She took it, tipping it to the sun. The gleam of old gold blinked greenish in the morning light. “Small ones, but look at the faceting. And two cabochon cuts. Rubies, you think?” Thailand was famous for blood rubies and sapphires. “And if these are sapphires, they’re good ones.” So blue they were nearly black.
“Even more rare.”
“But how could they have cut these? They didn’t have the equipment, not to facet, create a bevel like this. Amazing.” She stared at it for another moment, then handed it back. “So what are the markings?”
“That, my dear Xaviera—” She loved the way his Egyptian accent made her name sound. “—is the real question. I think they are Thai royalty.”
“No kidding.” She glanced back at the cave, and noticed a couple of dig workers listening to the conversation. “Hiding during an uprising or something?”
“We are near the Laos–Cambodian border and there are four temples in a straight line right to this area.”
“A summer home, how lovely for them.”
“I was thinking a pilgrimage. These markings are Thai, but the design is Cambodian. Though I am not well versed in its ancient text.” He frowned at the piece a moment longer, then drew a small box onto the table, filled