Return Of the Fallen. Rita Vetere
workers used brushes to carefully dust away sand from what appeared to be skeletal remains. Around the bones was wrapped an ancient, heavy chain unlike any he had ever seen. It was not composed of links. Rather, it took the form of a continuous construction, malleable as thick rope. Its brownish-gold alloy glittered through the encrusted dirt with which it was covered.
Miller bent to get a closer look.
Jared called out to Hamadi. “Take the men and return to the encampment. Miller and I will finish securing the find.”
The crew chief wasted no time in dismissing his men. Jared waited until the workers’ voices faded completely before he turned to Miller, who was hunched over, closely examining the remains.
“Strange...” he muttered. “The ribcage...There appear to be too many ribs...Twenty-eight rather than twenty-four. Most unusual.”
While Miller talked, Jared stood behind him and affixed a silencer to the gun he pulled from his pack.
“I’ve never seen anything like it. And the chains. If your estimate about the era is correct, chains would not even have been in use at the time. And look at them, they’re—”
Jared fired the weapon, cut Miller off in mid-sentence and vaporized the back of the man’s head, sending blood and brains flying in all directions. Miller dropped to the ground and landed next to the bones with a thud.
“You’re right,” Jared said to the dead man. “The remains are most unusual.” He exhaled deeply, glad to finally be rid of the fool.
The sun beat down relentlessly as Jared slung Miller’s body over his shoulder and climbed out of the excavation. Dizzy from the searing heat, he dragged the corpse away from the site. Sweat rolled down his face and stung his eyes as he pushed himself to hurry. If he didn’t get out of the midday sun, he’d surely collapse from heatstroke. He hauled Miller’s body a fair distance from the pit then ran back and grabbed one of the shovels. From his pack he retrieved the last of his water and gulped it down before he dug Miller’s grave.
By the time he was done, Jared was drenched in perspiration, his breath burning in his lungs. He tossed the shovel aside, knelt next to the cavity and rolled the corpse into it. Vertigo hit him again when he stood, and he placed his hands on his knees and lowered his head until the blackness creeping into his vision receded. After he filled in the grave, he carefully smoothed out the sand until no trace of what he’d done remained. As he checked his handiwork, he pulled the cotton scarf from his pack and used it to mop the sweat running down his face and neck.
Even though he knew he should get moving—he was almost baking in the intense heat—Jared returned to the excavation for one last look. It was difficult to tear his gaze from the sight of the bones and the thick, ancient chains binding them.
For months he’d searched this uninhabitable desert, hoping against hope the information with which he’d been provided was accurate, but today’s discovery made every miserable moment he’d endured worthwhile. What he looked at had not been witnessed by another human being since antediluvian times.
Reluctantly he dragged his gaze away from the remains. Although exhausted, he spent the next several minutes securing a protective cover over the exposed skeleton. By the time he crawled out of the pit, he was dehydrated and ready to collapse, and he still had to walk the mile back to the encampment and enter unseen. No one must suspect Miller had not returned with him.
On wobbly legs he set off, wondering whether his contact in Cairo would be able to reach their location by morning. Jared had already paid the man a handsome sum in exchange for his promise to ship the remains to New York without the knowledge of the Egyptian authorities. An equal amount of money would be wired into the man’s account once the bones arrived safely at Jared’s estate on Long Island. The true nature of what he’d uncovered had to be kept secret at all costs.
The sun beat down fiercely, the intense heat causing the air to shimmer where the dunes met the sky. He deeply regretted having consumed the last of his water, for he quickly dehydrated, his throat now parched, his lips already blistering. Several times he got disoriented and had to stop to adjust his bearings. It seemed as if hours had gone by when, dry as the burning sand over which he traveled, Jared spotted the camp and heaved a sigh of relief. The men had taken refuge from the midday heat beneath a large canopy, smoking and conversing as they normally did at this time of day. He approached from the west, hidden from view, and slipped inside his tent unnoticed. There he poured deliciously cool water over his head and down his parched throat, and collapsed onto his bunk to rest.
A short time later, he emerged and called Hamadi, who sauntered over to where Jared stood.
“I did not see you return.” Hamadi glanced around. “Where is—”
“Professor Miller is unwell—sunstroke. He’s resting in my tent. Call the men, please.”
When the crew gathered, he paid the men their wages and a generous bonus, as promised. Another crew would arrive tomorrow, he announced, to help catalogue the find. The workers were free to return home.
The men cheered on hearing the news. They quickly packed their gear and departed the same evening, leaving behind a Jeep for Jared and Miller.
* * * *
Exactly one week later, Jared boarded a plane in Cairo, which would take him back to New York and the Order. His precious discovery was already en route to America by ship, thanks to his contact. Nothing, it seemed, was impossible provided one had enough money, and of that Jared had plenty. Now he had something else as well—something so valuable it could not be measured in currency.
Chapter 2
Toronto, Canada—Present Day
After finishing her evening shift, Justine pushed through the main doors of Mount Sinai Hospital and stepped into the deep freeze of a Toronto mid-winter night. She navigated the icy steps to the pavement and spotted Edmond’s car parked nearby on University Avenue, aptly nicknamed Hospital Row. Crisp snow crunched beneath her leather boots and a glacial wind pushed her along as she drew bitterly cold air into her lungs and exhaled it in tiny white puffs. A brilliant full moon shone over the snow-covered street, making it sparkle like diamonds.
She climbed into the passenger seat, closed the door against the frigid air and bussed Edmond’s cheek. “Wow, it’s colder than a toilet seat in Siberia out there.” Justine shivered from her short jaunt. “Remind me again why we willingly live in this city?”
Edmond turned up the heater. “I know, even JB couldn’t wait to get back inside after his walk tonight.”
JB was short for James Brown, the hound dog Edmond had rescued from the shelter the previous year. The loveable dog had acquired that name because he was forever jumping up on people and constantly being reprimanded to “get down.”
“By the way, you made the news today,” Edmond said.
“What?”
“The accident yesterday. The news coverage included a close-up of you helping an ambulance attendant with one of the victims outside the emergency ward.”
“Oh, right.” Yesterday, she had worked a double shift. The treacherous road conditions resulting from a freak ice storm had caused a massive sixty-seven car pileup on the highway, and more than seventy seriously injured patients had arrived at the emergency department. To make matters worse, television crews had descended on the hospital, getting in the way of things as they tried to get footage on what was being hailed as one of the worst car crashes ever. After another extended shift today, she was beat.
“Hungry?” Edmond asked.
“Famished. What’s for dinner?” She unbuttoned her heavy coat in the warmth of the car interior.
“You look awfully sexy in that uniform. Maybe we’ll just skip dinner and you can play nurse with me instead.”
“Uh-uh. Food first. I need my strength.” Justine