Kayla sat staring at the Harris JM-251 SIGINT unit, her fingers drumming a pattern on its rough, black casing.
"What the hell are you faggots up to?” She said quietly. For the fifth night in a row she'd picked off the walkie-talkie signals of Angus Kool and Randy Wright. Angus's little encryption pattern was cute, and actually pretty good for an amateur. But the key word was amateur. Kayla had broken the code within the first twenty minutes.
Snoopy and Woodstock? Oh please. They had little spy code names, for God's sakes. She wondered how Angus would act if she took the pliers to him and showed him some real spy techniques.
While their digitized code was easy enough to break, she still didn't know what, exactly, they were up to. They were testing underground mapping equipment, that much was clear. She figured they hoped to sneak away and start exploring the caves. But why were they skulking around so far up the mountain? What did they have up there? What were they looking for?
At first she'd pegged them for fags, out for a midnight hole-poke away from prying eyes and perky ears. Now she knew they were up to something secretive, something Connell wouldn't like.
Following them up the mountain would be a risk. Not that she couldn't track them effortlessly, but she didn't know the men and didn't know how they'd react if they heard some strange, small noise if she made a mistake. Odds were they'd never hear or see a thing, but she wasn't taking any chances that they'd run off and tell Patrick O'Doyle they thought someone was out there, out in the dark, watching them. All O'Doyle needed was an excuse to come looking, and he'd probably find some trace of her. After that, it would only be a matter of time until she'd have to leave.
But she grew more and more confident of the camp's daily schedule. Tomorrow, just after the mining crew came down from the shaft, she would go out to Angus and Randy's last known location and follow their path. She hoped to find their secret, then be back in her perch before the pair ventured out in the wee hours of the morning.
Sonny McGuiness sat cross-legged in the lab building's shadow, peacefully drinking in the night's splendor. He knew Angus and Randy would soon return.
He figured those boys were out to get a little piece of their own. They probably hoped to find a decent load of ore, then stash away the nuggets in the lab like squirrels preparing for winter.
But they still had to find a way to smuggle the ore out of camp. Sonny didn't have that problem. All he had to do was collect twenty or thirty pounds of the best ore he could get his hands on, hike a mile or two, then bury it. He could always come back in a year and dig it up again. Repeat that process as many times as he could, and he'd clear maybe three hundred pounds. From the amount of money EarthCore was throwing into the project, not to mention Connell's slave-driver pace, the ore must be high-grade indeed. Three-hundred pounds of ore might net Sonny an extra ten ounces of platinum, if he was lucky. At most, it would mean an extra $85,000. Certainly worth losing a few hours sleep, and who knew how much more he could find?
Movement caught his eye. Through the silvery haze of moonlight, he saw Angus and Randy quietly slip by Cho Takachi. Sonny watched them approach the lab. They walked within ten feet of where he sat motionless in the shadows. They were quiet as mice, but once inside the lab he could hear them stifling giggles. They'd found something tonight, that was for damn sure.
Tomorrow night Sonny would find out what it was they had found. He stood and walked to Cho without a sound, moving across the sand like a desert whisper.
"What's your game, kiddo?"
Cho whipped around, eyes wide and pistol drawn.
"Sonny!” Cho said, lowering his gun. “You scared the piss out of me. How the hell did you get so close without me hearing you?"
"Old prospector's trick, kid. Maybe I'll teach you sometime.” Sonny thumbed toward the lab. “What's your game with Huey and Dewey in there?"
"What game?” Cho said with an innocent face.
"Cut the act. I've been watchin’ you for three nights, watchin’ you let those two out of camp and back in again like you was a revolvin’ door. Don't worry, I'm not gonna tell anyone."
Cho regarded Sonny for a moment, realizing he'd been caught red-handed. He holstered his gun and wiped his long black hair from his eyes. “All right,” Cho said with a tone of defeat. “It's no big deal, they just pay me to look the other way when they sneak out during my shift. They always get back before my shift is over."
"You know where they're goin'?"
"Not a clue, old man. You can't blame a guy for making a little extra on the side, can you?” Cho flashed his most charming grin.
"Can't blame ya at all,” Sonny said, strangely proud of Cho's capitalistic nature. “But tomorrow night I'm sneakin’ out behind ‘em. And I ain't payin’ ya shit. That's the cost for keepin’ my clam-taster shut about your little game. Deal?"
"Of course,” Cho said, obviously relieved. “You think they're up to something?"
"Yep."
"Think I might cut in on the action with you?"
Cho seemed to care about little more than money. How he got it didn't seem to matter. Sonny had to admire that quality.
"Could be, rabbit,” Sonny smiled. “Could be. I might have use for a strong back before all this is finished. See you tomorrow night.” Sonny turned and walked to the Quonset hut, leaving Cho with visions of dollar signs dancing in his head.
Four hours after Angus and Randy returned to the lab, Veronica Reeves stared out at a sprawling view of the sun-baked desert. Her eyes only half registered the morning's stunning beauty. She was over a thousand feet up the mountain. The dry landscape spread out for miles before her, but all she could think about was the opportunity presented by the knife and EarthCore's endless arsenal of technology.
She'd simply died and gone to heaven. The University of Michigan ranked as one of the world's leading archaeological research centers. Technology-wise, she was usually blessed with the latest equipment. At least, she'd thought it was the latest equipment. The truth was that she'd been using stone-age garbage.
The best ground-penetrating radar equipment she'd ever heard of measured to depths of five hundred feet, and only then if the ground conditions were just right. Angus's portable GPR array penetrated over three miles down, regardless of the ground makeup. It was also more accurate than anything she'd ever seen, especially inside three hundred feet.
Angus's full-scale map of the area told her where to start. On it she found an area speckled with abnormalities. Dense objects starkly stood out against the backdrop of rock and dirt. That area on the map turned out to be a small natural plateau.
EarthCore guards hauled the GPR suite 4,450 feet up the mountain with little difficulty, setting up the equipment on the plateau. Connell insisted on providing physical labor — she and Sanji carried little more than personal items. The mountain towered over the Wah Wah valley, but the slope was gentle enough that they didn't need climbing gear.
"Roni,” Sanji said. “Come here and take a look at this.” She turned away from the stunning view back to the small plateau. Sanji crouched in front of a Sony monitor that displayed data from the GPR array. They'd swept the area only five minutes ago, and he watched as Angus's program compiled the data.
Sanji, who'd spent his career as a brilliant laboratory and field biologist, was digging in the dirt and obviously having the time of his life. The climb had taxed him (she needed to nag him about getting into shape), but the concept of digging up artifacts had him thoroughly excited.
She stepped around the equipment to stand behind him and look over his shoulder. The portable screen sat on a boulder. Sanji moved a mouse on a green EarthCore mousepad, which looked horribly out of place among the rocks and dirt. The image on the screen mirrored his movements. Veronica saw many bright, sharp-edged objects on the screen, set against a backdrop of brown.