Agent with a History

  *****

  Days passed, and then, on the third morning, Flint literally drove right up to a mud brick wall of what looked like nothing more than a randomly placed wall half-buried in a sea of sand. With a sinking feeling, I realized that Flint had found the caravan stop with near pin point accuracy.

  No entrance appeared visible in the long, mud brick wall, still left exposed by the relentless desert winds. No wonder not very many people had found this place; it would have been easy to miss in the sand dunes. Flint rooted around in the back of the Landrover and pulled out a pick.

  He walked right up to the brick wall and started prying a door out of the aged mud brick. Sweat gleamed off his bare arms and his shirt was soon drenched. I couldn’t help but admire the specimen that he was as the wet shirt clung to him.

  His voice shook me out of my day dreaming, “Would you like the honors?”

  He was gesturing to the hole he had created in the wall. I glanced at the dark hole. My mind filled with all the dark things that could be in there and I shook my head, no.

  “You mean you’re going to make me go down through the small, dark and sinister hole first?” he asked, sounding exasperated.

  With a slight smile I said, “You’re just the man for the job!”

  He smiled like a Cheshire cat and said, “That’s right! I am.”

  Before I could retort he ducked inside and I was suddenly left alone in the whispering desert. Nervously, I looked around and then, making an effort not to think about it too much, I ducked inside with a gasp.

  “Didn’t take long for you to join the party,” he said wryly.

  “I thought you might hurt yourself, in here all alone, so I came in to save you.”

  The beam of Flint’s flashlight shown into my face briefly and I heard him grunt something as he blinded me with the light. The beam of light went back to examining the long corridor in which we stood. It stretched out a long distance to either side of us.

  “This would have been where they chambered the camels, a lot of camels,” Flint said. His beam found an opening in the opposing wall down the corridor from us.

  “The storage areas must be through there," He headed for the opening and, not wanting to be left alone in the dark, I quickly followed. Something on the floor tripped me and, with a half scream of panicked horror, I plunged forward, barely catching myself against Flint’s back.

  He turned and finished pulling me upright. Breathing hard, I watched as he stooped and picked something up from the floor. It was a clump of something.

  “Thousand year old camel dung. I bet somebody out there would pay good money to have this perfectly preserved specimen of camel excrement. Just think what this could tell us. It could shed new light into what a camel’s life was like in the not so ancient past,” Flint said, in a fake tone of sincerity.

  I just rolled my eyes in response to his philosophical ramblings over a clump of manure and he chuckled, tossing the clump to the side in the process.

  The strange thing was that, in a way, he was right. Someone out there probably would have paid good money for an old piece of crap.

  What strange things humans were invariably giving value to. I followed Flint into the next room. This must have been where the caravan men stayed. The ceiling was blackened by the smoke of long ago fires.

  Flint corrected my earlier assessment of the rooms’ purpose. “Slaves and camel drivers were probably housed in this room. The caravan guides and guards would have something finer than this.”

  I nodded and we continued on through the room, littered with the dusty remnants of artifacts of the once thriving caravan trade. This room alone would be a treasure trove of interest to any archeologist.

  I stepped up beside Flint as he stood in the portal of yet another doorway and gasped.

  The ceiling was a lot higher. Filling the large domed room was a cone tipped mound, the point of which stretched almost to the ceiling. For a moment I thought it was gold, but the color was wrong. Flint stepped forward and dipped a hand into the sand-like substance of the mound.

  “Salt! Either the ancient commodities market was flooded with the stuff and these caravan dudes were stock piling and waiting for a better price or our ancient savvy camel traders were preparing for a blow out fire sale during an ancient bull market.”

  I couldn’t help but smile at his comparison of olden times with the vernacular of the present. In general, Flint was just fun to be around.

  “There must have been ramps outside to lead the camels up onto the roof of the building. Then, they must have opened portals in the roof and dumped the salt down to have made such a large conical pile of it.”

  Flint was flashing the beam of his flashlight all over the place taking in the room filled with salt.

  I caught glimpses of boyish delight all over his face and I stated, “You really like doing this, don’t you? Discovering the past, whether it’s a fortune in gold or just a pile of salt.”

  I saw him grin big in response.

  “In another life I think I would have liked to have been a Biblical archeologist. This case has been a bit of a dream come true for me and, just for your information, this isn’t just a big pile of salt. Granted, a road salt company in New England might only give you a couple of bucks for a pile of salt like this today, but back in the day this stuff was currency! During Roman times, the officials rarely had the extra gold needed to pay their legionaries so they paid them with salt, which is where the common phrase ‘worth your salt’ comes from. This pile of salt was a veritable fortune back then.”

  “I stand corrected then, not just a pile of salt.”

  His face turned sheepish looking, “Sorry, I just love history and this kind of stuff. I didn’t mean to fill your ear with useless information.”

  “I don’t mind. I like how knowledgeable and history savvy you are. I bet you’ll make really smart kids.”

  He coughed and gave me a look of, ‘what did you say?’

  I just smiled and gestured my head toward a portal doorway on the other side of the large salt room, “Shall we continue the expedition, Dr. Jones?”

  I brushed past him toward the doorway, but he caught me and I glanced up into his darkened features. I didn’t fear the tight hold he had on my arms or the impassioned state I could tell he was in.

  It was actually kind of exciting, feeling his power, as well as his barely leashed control. I felt him reign himself in and again, I marveled at the kind of man that he was.

  He had me alone, far from any form of help, and he could do anything he wanted to me. Yet, I’d never felt safer with a man.

  Gruffly, he spoke as he let go, “When this is over…” he left the rest unsaid and turned to the other open doorway, but I understood what he meant.

  I wanted it too.

  I followed him into the next room; it was a match to the salt room, except this room was empty. That is, except for the glittering display of shiny dust lying upon the floor.

  Flint knelt down and scooped up a handful of the dust and shined the beam of the flashlight onto the contents of his palm. The dust was liberally laced with bright shiny gold flecks.

  “Yeah, I’d say several million was a somewhat fair estimate. Still, a poor thing to lose your life over.” Flint said introspectively.

  He tilted his hand and let the dust fall back to the ground. There was another doorway and he walked to it across the expanse of the room.

  “Bingo!”

  I cringed inwardly at the excitement I heard in his voice. Stepping up to the door, I saw that it wasn’t gold that had grabbed his interest, but the finely plastered walls that were adorned with several revealing murals; very revealing murals!

  I kept a nonchalant face, as he meticulously photographed everything!

  I had to destroy that camera!

  He seemed to be done. He started pulling small objects out of his pack and began slapping them to the walls. What was he doing?
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  And then it dawned on me, they were explosives.

  I looked at the beautiful murals and I felt like protesting, even though, for the treasure’s sake, it was a good thing for this place to be destroyed.

  He came up to me and he must have read my face, “Yes, I know it’s terrible, but it’s the best thing all around and has to be done in this situation.”

  “You really are going to destroy the treasure aren’t you?”

  “Yes Lisa, I am.”

  He took my hand and led me out the way we had come, slapping explosives to the walls as he went. As we resurfaced back out into the heat and daylight, I noticed that the camera had disappeared.

  He got into the Landrover, as did I, and we left. He stopped a short distance off, brought out a control from a pocket and, with his face looking decidedly grim, he pushed the red button on it.

  The sounds of the explosives going off were surprisingly muffled. The piled up sands of the encroaching dune cascaded down into the shattered space of the old caravan stop.

  When the dust settled there was nothing left to see but the endless sand dunes all around us. Another part of the past was gone forever.

  Flint started driving again and, for awhile, I really didn’t care where he was driving me. But, after awhile, that wore off when I realized that we weren’t headed back the way we had come. We were going deeper into the desert!

  I looked over at him curiously, “Why aren’t we going back? You got what you came for, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah, I think I got what I needed, but I thought it would be safer to head this way than to take the same route back, as we might have been followed.”

  I glanced back behind us and then did a double take at the dust cloud being kicked up in the distance by at least five vehicles spread out behind us. I turned back to Flint as alarm went through me at the knowledge that we were already being followed!

  “We are being followed, Flint!”

  He glanced in the mirror and wryly grinned, “Fancy that. Guess it was a good hunch I had, huh?”

  “Who are they?”

  “My guess, seeing their lack of air support, is that they’re probably one of the terrorist groups in search of an unlimited meal plan,” Flint said sardonically.

  Oh great, we’re being chased across the desert by terrorists that probably outnumber us twenty five to one or more!

  “So what are you going to do when we run out of gas?” I asked.

  “I’ve got a plan.”

  “Does this plan involve procuring other transportation? Because if you’re headed for Ethiopia, I wish to state that I don’t much fancy the idea of walking across the entire Sahara to get there!”

  He just looked over at me with a cheesy grin and didn’t answer. He had to have something up his sleeve; I just hoped it was something good.

  Five hours later the rover lurched and then stuttered and I glanced pointedly over at him. It got worse, and then the rover died and we came to a stop in the sand. I glanced back at the still visible dust trails of our pursuers. This wasn’t good!

  All I had was the 9mm that Tyre had given me. It was something, but right now I felt like the only peace of mind to be found in this situation would be the comforting weight of an assault rifle and several grenades.

  Flint got out, grabbing up his pack along with him, and started walking up the sand dune directly beside us.

  Seriously?!

  This was his plan? Drive into the dessert until you’re out of gas and then walk? This is the Sahara!

  What kind of idiot was he?

  He turned briefly and called back, "You’re not just going to sit there, are you Lisa? Come on!”

  I got out, slamming the door hard behind me, and yelled back, “It makes more sense than what you’re trying to do!”

  He didn’t pay any attention to me, but instead just kept climbing up the steep dune. I mentally stabbed him in the back as he climbed.

  This was all his fault! Trust him, he says! Look where trusting a man has gotten me this time! I thought to myself, as I started up the dune after him.

  I’d been sweating in the rover, but within minutes I was completely drenched. It was so hot!

  In an hour I’d be completely dehydrated and easy pickings for the terrorists behind us, thanks to the genius up ahead of me. I let my mind go into just how stupid I thought all of this was.

  His voice, from higher up, interrupted my chain of turbulent thought, “You know I can hear you?”

  Actually, I hadn’t realized that I had been giving voice to my frustrations, but out of the mixture of embarrassment and anger that I felt I retorted, “Good!”

  “You know, if you put as much energy into climbing this dune, as you are in talking about me, I bet you’d already be up here.”

  Oh, that did it!

  Now he was trying to make it sound like all this was my fault! He was going to pay for this! I redoubled my efforts climbing up the mound.

  Climbing the steep side of the sand dune could be best described as trying to work out on a treadmill pointed at the ceiling. The amount of effort needed to do either was about the same and I was beginning to drag, both mentally and physically. When I reached the top, I bent over with my hands on my knees breathing hard.

  Giving Flint a piece of my mind was going to have to wait for a moment. I glanced up briefly, and something shiny caught my eye in the hollow of the dune below us.

  I looked closer and saw the sleek outline of a small black helicopter. I glanced quickly up to Flint’s sweaty face only to see him giving me a knowledgeable look.

  “You could have told me that you had a chopper stashed!” I exclaimed.

  “And you could have had a little more faith in me! I’ll tell you when it’s time to panic.”

  I glanced back. The dust trails were much closer now.

  Flint took my hand and together we started down, half slipping and sliding.

  “I was going to tell you, but it was just too much fun seeing you all mad.”

  “I have a bit of a temper,” I admitted.

  “You don’t say, Your Highness.”

  “Don’t call me Your Highness! I’m not a Queen!”

  “Oh, yes you are!” he responded firmly, in a tone that didn’t brook a negative reply.

  “You’re my Queen!”

  The possessive quality of his words made my heart skip a beat. We had reached the sandy floor of the basin among the dunes and now we ran across it to the chopper.

  He helped me in and then he got in. He started flipping toggle switches and other buttons and I began to relax. He started the chopper up. Well, that is, he tried to start it up.

  It almost fired, but then it started coughing and died. He tried again and just got more coughing from the motor.

  I studied his face, suddenly tight with concentration, as he tried to figure out the problem with the chopper.

  “Should I start panicking now?” I asked softly into the headset.

  It didn’t seem like he had heard me. I heard him say, “Sand! Sand must have gotten into the air intake. Wait here, I’ll be right back.”

  He pulled his headset off, got out of the cockpit and then disappeared from view. My gaze fell to his pack and the camera that I knew it held. I had to destroy those pictures!

  It was my duty, but why then did I hesitate?

  I knew why, but it didn’t matter, protecting the treasure was more important. Wasn’t it?

  I slipped his pack open and quickly found the camera. I had been going to destroy the whole camera, but instead I just slipped the memory card out. I put the camera back the way I had found it and closed the pack back up.

  I held the memory card for a moment, and before I could think better of what I was doing I snapped it in half. Opening my door slightly I tossed the pieces outside into the sand.

  Several minutes later, Flint was back. He tried to start the chopper up again and this time it fir
ed to life.

  “Yes!” he exclaimed with a triumphant grin, looking over at me.

  Wanly, I smiled back at him and managed to give him a thumbs up before I turned to gaze out my side window. He was so going to kill me when he found out!

  Several hours passed, during which Flint tried to converse with me on multiple occasions, but the conversations all fell through. I could hardly bring myself to look at him, let alone talk with him, as if nothing was wrong. My conscience fairly ate me up inside.

  All along, during the length of our relationship, Flint had been nothing but honest towards me about his intentions in regards to the treasure, as well as me. Yet I had doubted him, somehow expecting him to betray me in some way, but he hadn’t and instead I had betrayed him.

  I felt awful!

  Was the treasure really worth enough to risk losing something of real value?

  Surprisingly, the answer I kept getting was, no! I had to make this right!

  “Are you okay?” he asked, concern evident in his tone.

  In a rush of words I burst out, “I did it! I betrayed you! I’m sorry!”

  Darn it all, I was crying again and viciously I wiped at the stupid tears.

  He turned my head with his right hand and then, bringing my hand up to his lips, he kissed it.

  Still holding my hand he asked, “So what form has this wicked betrayal taken?”

  “I stole the memory card out of your camera and destroyed it!” I said, turning back to the window, feeling completely shamed by my actions.

  “I see. Well, all in all, I’d say we’re about even then.”

  My head whipped back around. “What?”

  “Well, I did, after all, destroy a caravan stop belonging to you. I’ll call us square if you’ll agree to an equal trade off, one caravan stop equals one memory card.”

  I couldn’t believe his reaction. “You’re not mad at me?” I asked incredulously.

  He kissed the knuckles of my hand again before releasing it.

  “No, but I’m glad you told me what you did. Now, I do have to say that if you try to steal this memory card,” he removed a memory card from his front shirt pocket and held it up with a grin, “I’ll have to bend you over my knee and spank you.”

  As it dawned on me that I hadn’t destroyed the memory card with the pictures on it, something else also occurred to me. I was relieved.

  Why?

  If I was relieved that Flint still had the ability to find the treasure, then it must mean that I wanted him to find it, but why?

  The answer seemed simple enough. I wanted him to destroy it so we could be together.

  The truth was startling, but none the less true. I still couldn’t believe that he wasn’t more affected by my betrayal of him than he appeared to be.

  “You’re really not angry with me?” I asked, as I met his gaze.

  “You’re sorry, aren’t you?”

  I nodded, yes, and he shrugged as if to say, “Well, there you go.”

  “Would you really spank me?” I asked curiously.

  He gave me an eyebrow raise that said he most certainly would.

  My eyes drifted to his hand and my face flushed at the idea of it. Spanking, however unpleasant, wasn’t really the answer to a serious breach of trust in a relationship.

  I knew Flint enough to know that he would never hurt me. His threat was more of an erotic tease to be carried out in the bedroom than anything disciplinary.

  The question remained, what would he do if I really messed up again?

  “Would you do anything else, besides spanking me, if I tried to steal that card again?”

  He burst out laughing, “What’s this? You got off the hook easy enough with your first crime that you’re back and willing to tempt the punishment of another offense?”

  “I, no…”

  I’d botched the question and was starting to turn away in embarrassment, when his fingers caught my chin and stopped me.

  His gaze was direct and kind, “I think what you were trying to ask was, ‘If you mess up again, how long will I stay with you before calling it quits?’ That sound about right?”

  I nodded.

  “I’ve made mistakes and so have you, and we’re both likely to do so in the future. Not that either of us wants to, but our basic human nature is bound to raise its ugly head at some point. The mistake that I never want to make would be to ever turn my back on the special thing that you and I have going. To that end, I’m willing to put up with a lot! How about you?”

  I nodded and he settled back into his seat.

  “I love you!” I said passionately.

  He smiled and combed some hair back away from my eyes, “I love you too, Lisa.”