by Alex Archer
“I know. I heard.” Burris grinned and nodded, then pulled out an earpiece. “He was rigged with a body mic. Got the whole thing on tape.”
The archaeology team had set up a small desk in this room, which provided enough space for three laptop computers and preliminary identification tools. Recovered items were logged in at the workstation, then transported outside where they were further documented and cataloged. Electrical cords connected to the generator, which throbbed distantly outside, crisscrossed the floor, powering the laptops and the electric lanterns hanging on the walls. And, apparently, enabled Burris to rig “skeletons” with body mics.
“Man, the sound of him hitting that wall is awesome! Splat. Pure gold. That is going to play beautifully when we put this special together.”
A radio show about Annja’s time in Addis Ababa with Burris was, as Doug Morrell had pointed out, advertising Chasing History’s Monsters simply couldn’t afford to buy. A special segment was supposed to be a gift. Burris’s Unacceptable! was a soapbox statement against everything he disagreed with. But what sealed the deal with Doug was Burris’s agreement to reciprocate with a cameo on the TV episode Annja was there to film.
She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. She’d worn it pulled back off her neck because this meet was supposed to be all about business. Hence her khaki cargo shorts and hiking boots. “Your friend has a broken nose and a possible concussion.”
The skeleton had been loaded up by one of the archaeology students and driven back to the city for treatment.
Burris shook his head and counted off on his fingers as he said, “First of all, he’s not a friend, just some guy I hired out of a bar who fit the skeleton suit. Second, a guy who gets handsy with a woman without her permission gets whatever is coming to him. I’m just glad you were able to take care of yourself.”
He sounded so sincere that Annja was tempted to believe him. However, she’d heard him sound sincere on the radio show when he wasn’t. He was good at acting innocent. He’d probably been doing it since he was a kid. He was thirty-five going on nine.
“Third, this whole rooting around in the dirt thing is getting pretty boring.” He glanced meaningfully around the room. “Can you imagine me telling my listeners about digging in the dirt?”
“Then why did Doug tell me you wanted to do this segment?”
He snorted dismissively, ignoring her. “My gardener, Luis, and his guys could go through this place faster than the people working here.” He paused as he had a new thought. “I hope they’re not getting paid by the hour. Man, talk about milking it.”
Annja made herself count to ten the way she’d been cautioned back in the orphanage in New Orleans where she’d been raised. Around Burris the past few days, she’d been counting to ten a lot.
“Most of these people are not getting paid. They’re college students helping Professor Sordi for college credit or experience they can put on their résumés.”
Shaking his head, Burris turned to the nearest graduate student, a spindly guy who reminded Annja of Sheldon Cooper on The Big Bang Theory. “Say, pal...”
The grad student looked at Burris, blinked, looked at Annja, blinked again, then looked back at Burris. “Yes?”
“You’re not getting paid for digging?”
“No. I’m a graduate assistant to Dr. Sordi.” His English was flawless, but held a hint of Florence.
“Then why are you here?”
The student took a step back and raised his iPad as a barrier between Burris and himself. “To gain experience, to enhance my résumé and to learn what I can of this place. Getting chosen for this dig was a very fortunate thing for me.”
“You call reeking of dirt, sweating yourself stupid and being trapped underground fortunate?”
The grad student blinked again. “No, I call discovering this Aksumite trading fort fortunate. You couldn’t drive me from this place with all the bulls in Pamplona.”
“You ever run with the bulls there?”
The grad student shifted uncomfortably. “No. It was simply a meta—”
“Well, I have. Three times.” Burris hiked up a shirt sleeve to reveal a long scar. “Got that my second time.” He reached for his belt buckle. “Third time, I got gored in the—”
Face burning with embarrassment, the grad student turned to the artifacts in front of him. “Please excuse me. I must return to my work.”
Burris looked at Annja. “You want to see my scar?”
“If you show it to me, you’re going to have a bed next to your skeleton and that scar will never look the same.”
A wide grin split Burris’s face as he released his belt buckle. “Maybe after we get to know each other a little better.”
“Trust me, we’ll never know each other that well.”
“Ouch.” Burris drew back and frowned. “Your guy Doogie said you could be difficult.”
“Doug.”
“Whatever.”
“I was told you had something to show me.”
“I tried.” Burris grinned.
Annja just stared at him.
“Wow. Total flame-out there, I guess.” Burris gestured to one of the tunnels. “I wanted to show you some stuff that’s been recovered. Get your take on them for your show.”
“What stuff?”
“C’mon. You’ll see.” Plucking a flashlight from one of the nearby tables, Burris headed off down the tunnel.
Reluctantly, wishing she could get back to helping Professor Sordi and his team, Annja followed.
Chapter Three
“I wanted to do something more interesting than playing in the sandbox with the other kiddies.” Flashlight in hand, Burris entered another excavated room in the older section of the dig that didn’t relate to the original find or the Aksumite discovery. “Thought maybe I’d show you some artifacts that a few of the local tomb raiders have dug up. Get your take on them.”
Doug, you so owe me. Annja stepped into the room and felt as if she’d entered a Hollywood set. The earthen walls stood out in sharp relief under the camcorder lights and other lights. The wall to Annja’s right was covered with artifacts that looked hundreds of years old but weren’t. They were knockoffs that tourists bought in the mercato, the city’s large open market.
Thick, apelike skulls occupied center stage of the presentation. Given the flaring cheekbones and pronounced canine teeth, Annja felt certain the skulls were based on Lucy and Ramidus, two hominid skeletons recovered from the area.
Around them, fake jewelry, period costumes and stone weapons hung on the wall. A mummified monkey in swaddling clothes sat on the ground beneath them, its glass eyes gleaming. The monkey mummy’s feet were perched on a clay brick. Nearby, a bronze lion wearing a crown tipped at a jaunty angle carried a pennant. A small collection of pottery sat on either side.
Two young male camera operators stood on the other side of the large room filming Annja and Burris as they entered. Part of Burris’s entourage, they’d mostly stayed in the bars with their boss.
Burris immediately ratcheted up his showman performance. “And here she is, folks, your favorite archaeologist, fresh from the historic dig in Addis Ababa where an old site from the Kingdom of Aksum has recently been found by Dr. Vittorio Sordi, of the Università degli Studi di Milano.”
The radio personality’s flawless Italian caught Annja by surprise.
“For those of you who don’t know Dr. Sordi, he has uncovered two previous rare digs. He was involved in the discovery of the first complete Etruscan house at Poggiarello Renzetti in Vetulonia, Italy, in 2010, and in the dig site of the vampire skull on the island of Lazzaretto Nuovo in 2009.” Burris smiled. “Ooooh, vampires! Wish we could have been there for that?” He mugged for the camera. “Me, too. Dr. Sordi gets around, but not nearly as much as the beautiful Annja Creed.”
Burris waved Annja forward.
She folded her arms and frowned at him. She so did not want to be part of whatever freak show the radio personality had
planned. “It would have been nice to have gotten prepped for this.”
One of the cameramen looked up. “Want us to cut, boss?”
“No.” Burris waved a hand in a circular motion and kept his eyes on Annja. “Keep rolling. We’ll edit and clean up later. We can work with this.”
Struggling to keep from getting angry, knowing that Doug had spoken the truth when he’d said Burris Coronet and his radio show could bring attention to Chasing History’s Monsters, Annja forced herself to look around the room.
“Do you recognize anything, Ms. Creed?” Burris’s tone was singsong, stopping millimeters short of taunting.
“Other than the fact that most of these artifacts are souvenirs from the market?” Still, there was something about that clay brick under the mummy’s feet that sparked her interest.
“Hey.” Burris had lost some of his jokey demeanor. “These are first-class fake artifacts. The best money can buy. I had guys scrounging the city looking for this stuff.” He picked up a spear from where it leaned against the wall and brandished it.
The spear looked like it might have been genuine. It was almost five and a half feet long, and the narrow fluted blade was at least eighteen inches long. At least the spearhead looked like it might be real. The haft was a fairly recent addition.
“Do you know what this is?” Burris whipped the blade around theatrically, spinning it end over end with skill that showed martial arts experience.
“Ethiopian military spear. Probably dates back to the mid- to late 1800s. The government checked them in and out as warriors needed them. Which was often given this country’s history. The spearhead looks original, but that haft is a definite new addition. If the spearhead is that old, it probably went missing in the 1990s when an accidental explosion destroyed the government arsenal.”
Burris halted the spear’s spin and gazed more critically at the weapon before shifting his attention back to Annja. “How do you know the explosion was accidental?”
Ignoring the question, Annja knelt on the floor and looked at the clay brick beneath the mummified monkey’s feet. She set her backpack on the ground within easy reach. The brick was plain and chipped, ancient. It was square instead of rectangular as most modern-day bricks were made. The light tan color showed some wear, but the brick was cleaner and in better shape than Annja would have thought possible.
“Ah, the monkey got you, right?” Burris put down the spear and picked up the mummified monkey. “I thought it might. Who can resist a dead monkey all wrapped up like a baby?” He prodded one of the exposed feet with a forefinger. “Looks like he could just reach out and grab your finger, doesn’t he?”
Annja ignored Burris and took a mini-Maglite from her pocket. She turned on the flash and played the beam over the brick. Spotting writing on the brick’s face now that it was revealed, she took out a brush from her shirt pocket and whisked the dust away.
“You’re passing up a dead baby monkey for a rock?”
“That monkey isn’t a baby, it’s an adult.”
“It’s still little.” Burris looked the monkey in the face. “Kind of cute in a dreadful, ugly sort of way. But it’s too big to put on a key chain or hang from a rearview mirror. Probably give that taco dog a run for his enchiladas, though.”
Pulling her 35mm camera out of her backpack, Annja took pictures of the brick. “Where did you get this?”
“The brick?”
“Yes.”
“I dunno.” Burris held the monkey by its hands and made it dance. The cameramen closed in on the sight, cracking up. “I paid some vendors at the market to bring some stuff over. Can’t believe you don’t love the monkey more than a paperweight.”
After she put the camera away, Annja gently lifted the brick from the floor.
“Why are you so interested in the brick?”
“Because out of everything here, I think it’s real.” The brick weighed less than it looked like it would. Ancient bricks were made out of soil, water and dried grass. Once they’d been baked, though, they turned out extremely durable, lasting thousands of years.
“No crap?” Burris tossed the mummified monkey to one of the cameramen, who scrambled to make a one-handed catch but failed.
The monkey hit the floor at the same time three men with pistols clenched in their fists stepped through the door at the other end of the room.
Chapter Four
“Who are you?” Burris stepped toward the men with his hand raised authoritatively. “You can’t just walk in here. This is a closed set.”
Still kneeling, Annja looked at the three men and wondered if they had been hired by Burris to make the video more exciting. Because he wasn’t acting scared. If he had hired them, he’d cast well.
All three men looked rough, dressed in cheap cotton suits that made their black skin stand out even more. In their late twenties or early thirties, they were lean and hard.
Burris strode toward the men. “Get out of here.” He glanced over his shoulder at the cameramen. “Keep rolling on this. It’ll play great.”
Uncertainly, the cameramen filmed the encounter.
The man leading the group raised his pistol and fired a shot into the earthen ceiling. The harsh crack of the gunshot filled the room and deafened Annja. Dust drifted down from the baseball-size hole in the ceiling.
The gunman shifted his aim to Burris’s midsection. “I am Tadesse, American.” His accent was strong. “And if you value your life, you will stop where you are.”
Burris stopped and his hands slowly rose at his sides till he was holding them over his head. He swallowed hard, his bluster gone. “Sure. No problem. I value my life.”
Tadesse cut his gaze to her. “Woman, hand me that brick.”
Annja bristled. She stood with the brick in her hand, then walked toward him.
“You’re just going to give him my brick?” Burris sounded as though he couldn’t believe it.
“He has a gun.”
Burris cursed. “You can’t just take that brick. I paid for it. It’s mine.”
Obviously irritated with Burris—Annja could definitely understand that feeling—Tadesse again pointed the pistol at the big American. “I will not tell you again to shut your mouth.”
Taking advantage of the man’s distraction, Annja snap-kicked him in the crotch, pulled the brick into her chest to protect it, then caught the pistol in her free hand and twisted. She yanked the weapon free.
Tadesse squalled as his fingers cracked and cursed vehemently. He threw himself at her, reaching out with both hands. Annja ducked and slid to the side, spinning into a backward kick that caught Tadesse between the shoulder blades and propelled him forward. Off balance, he landed on his face with a smack.
Still moving, Annja flipped the pistol up, caught it in her hand and fired at the two remaining thugs as they opened fire. The pistol bounced in her fist as she squeezed off shots as fast as she could. She didn’t choose to kill when she had a choice, but these guys were clearly bent on murder.
Over a brick? She still couldn’t figure that out.
The room filled with thunder and muzzle flashes. Bullets dug divots from the walls, floor and ceiling. The two men weren’t crack shots and now lay groaning in the hallway.
The cameramen were fleeing toward the main dig.
“Who are those guys?” Burris asked.
Left partially deaf from the gunshots, Annja could barely hear him even though he was obviously yelling. She tossed the empty pistol to the floor. “I don’t know. I thought you hired them to spice up the video.”
“Why would I hire them?” Burris gaped at her.
“Why did you hire the guy in the skeleton costume?”
“Skeleton Guy was fun.”
“No, he wasn’t.” Annja realized for the first time that Burris hadn’t abandoned her. She didn’t know if he was brave or had just forgotten to run. She suspected the latter.
“Who are these guys? Why do they want my brick?”
Annja op
ened her backpack and tucked the brick beside her tablet PC and camera, wrapping it in an extra T-shirt she’d packed in case. You never knew how dirty you’d get at a site.
“I don’t know.”
Footsteps echoed in the tunnel to the outside, rapidly approaching.
Annja pulled on the backpack and watched as flashlights appeared in the tunnel.
“Who’s that?” Burris squinted into the dark.
“Tadesse! Tadesse!” someone down the tunnel called out.
A shot cracked and a slug skipped across the ceiling before burying into a wall.
“Not your fan club. Come on.” Annja grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him into motion, almost yanking him off his feet. He sprinted after her, cursing as more shots spanged off the walls around them and kicked up small dust clouds.
Reaching up, she caught hold of the thick electrical cables that supplied power to the naked bulbs hanging along the wall. She yanked, staggering as she pulled herself off balance, then felt the cables come loose from the wall. The bulbs exploded with tiny pops when they struck the ground. Glass crunched under Annja’s boots. She was too deaf to hear it, but she felt it.
“I can’t see!” Burris yelled.
“Neither can they.” Annja dragged her left hand along the wall and fixed a map of the dig in her mind.
The darkness didn’t keep their pursuers from shooting as they shined their flashlights down the tunnel. Bullets slammed into the walls and a couple even whizzed by overhead, knocking loose dust that eddied in the shifting flashlight beams.
Annja felt the opening to the tunnel to the left rather than saw it. She reached back, caught hold of Burris again, and pulled him into the side tunnel with her.
Burris breathed raggedly in the darkness. “Do you know where you’re going?”
“This is a ventilation tunnel Dr. Sordi ordered dug.”
“I thought you had a flashlight.”
“I do. Want to hold it so those guys back there can see you better?”