The Dig

by Michael Siemsen

  “You know the easiest thing to find in the forest?” He began again. “A flashlight.” They nodded; it made sense. “So did the hungry snakes drag Mr. Felch to their underground lair, sure to bring the flashlight along so as not to leave evidence? Smart snake was sure to click off the power?”

  Matt understood his point. It would make sense if something had attacked him, but not if he simply got lost and kept walking. He was probably still out there, walking in the wrong direction for nearly seven hours now. He wished a flashlight had turned up, for he could have learned what happened merely by touching it—but there was no trace.

  “Sorry,” Matt interjected, “but do you know if the helicopters are coming back anytime soon?”

  Chitundu turned to him and blinked. He glanced down at his notepad. “Matthew Turner,” he said in the same accusing tone. Tuni thought he might as well have added “if that is your real name!”

  “Yes, that’s me.”

  “You are curious about helicopters? I wonder why that is. You think there is a chance they will still find him out there? That is funny, ha-ha-ha.”

  “I don’t think it’s funny at all, Detective,” Peter interrupted. “We want our friend found—safe! None of us were even out there when he disappeared.”

  “Yes, disappeared. That is the interesting part, Mr.…” He consulted his pad. “. . . Sharma. To answer your question, Matthew Turner, the helicopters will return after sunrise. They will widen their perimeter. We all want to see Mister Felch okay… okay?” He smiled blandly and got up.

  Another of the officers came in the door, glanced at them, and called Detective Chitundu outside. They spoke mutedly for a moment before Chitundu nodded and peered over at the food tent. The two then walked away in that direction.

  “This is ridiculous,” Rheese blurted out. “They’re going to waste time playing Sherlock Holmes while one of our people is lost out there.”

  “Yeah,” Peter replied, “we just have to cooperate as best we can to get this part over with. I’m sure this is standard procedure for them.”

  “The dogs are coming back,” Tuni said, peering through the window behind her.

  They stood up and went outside. The soldiers were appearing on all sides of the tree line, their flashlights clicking off as they reentered the well-lit site. None seemed to be giving any hint of a discovery. Over at the food tent, five policemen huddled around Enzi. Wekesa came walking toward the RV, and Tuni asked him what was going on.

  “Polisi… weka rumande Enzi,” he replied, and continued walking.

  “What!” she replied, shocked.

  “What did he say?” Matt asked.

  “They’re arresting Enzi!”

  The four of them hurried over to ask what was going on, but the policemen kept them back while they handcuffed Enzi. Two uniformed officers walked him from the tables. As he passed by, head hanging low, he looked up at Tuni and then back down again.

  “What did he do?” she called out to the remaining police. “Did he say he did something?”

  Chitundu chuckled to himself, finished what he was telling the other men, and then walked to her.

  “This man is your friend?” he asked.

  “Yes. For the past few days only, but yes.”

  “You know his name?” he said as he looked down at his notepad.

  “Of course—Enzi… Enzi…”

  Rheese finished for her, “Wata. It’s Wata.”

  “Yes, yes, good name, Enzi Wata. Ha-ha-ha. His name is Enzi, yes. Jeremiah Enzi. This man is a criminal.” He walked leisurely toward the vehicles.

  “What has he done?” Peter called to Chitundu’s back.

  “He is a thief, sir. You check you bring any jewelry with you here. Let us know what is missing, yes?” He smiled and continued to the vehicles.

  “What’s that have to do with Hank?” Matt called out after him, but he received only a dismissive wave from Chitundu.

  “This is bullshit,” Tuni said. “Complete nonsense. Doctor, how long has Enzi worked for you?”

  “More than a couple of years now, I’d say,” Rheese replied, looking up as if the information might be found in his hatband. “Must have been September… yes, over two years. I’ve never had anything come up missing. Had no idea about the lad—hard worker, for sure.”

  Rheese sat down in his folding chair and took off his hat, shaking his head and mumbling, “Bloody shame…”

  Tuni was about to follow Matt into the RV, then suddenly stopped and blurted out, “Bollix!” and stormed toward the police and military vehicles crowding the entrance. She found Enzi in the backseat of the small patrol Jeep. The front passenger door was open. Brushing past the crowd of police and soldiers in camouflage, she plopped down onto the seat in front of him.

  “Did you have anything to do with this, Enzi?” she asked. “Tell me now.”

  Enzi looked up at her, expressionless.

  “You did? Did you do something to Hank?”

  He frowned and shook his head.

  “What did you do?”

  He sighed and looked away.

  “Step out, miss,” a uniformed officer said, and held his hand out to her.

  “Unbelievable, Enzi. I thought… I thought you were good man.” She stood up, ignoring the officer’s hand, and walked back through the group.

  Matt stood just beyond them, waiting for her. “Did he say anything?” he asked, falling in step with her.

  “No, but he’s obviously guilty of something. I don’t think he did anything to Hank, but he knows something.”

  35

  BY TEN A.M., MOST OF THE group had gotten only a few hours’ sleep before crawling out of their tents. Nobody wanted to sleep, or perhaps they had felt guilty about doing so with Hank’s fate still unknown, but each had eventually succumbed to exhaustion and slipped away. The police had departed, and the soldiers had left only one platoon of men to resume the search after sunrise.

  Matt crawled out of his tent, wearing the same clothes as yesterday, and shuffled over to Peter’s tent, where he stood listening for any sound of wakefulness.

  “Who’s that?” a crackling voice inquired.

  “It’s me. Did I wake you?”

  Peter yawned, “Nah, I couldn’t really sleep. Those damn birds in a full-scale riot. Is anyone here?”

  “Like, anyone new?”

  “Yeah—cops or whatever. C’mon in—I’m decent.”

  Matt crouched down and unzipped the door, “Nope, those soldiers are just now coming out of their truck.” He sat down on the foot of Peter’s poofy orange sleeping bag.

  “Dude,” Peter said, “I don’t know what the hell to do now.”

  Matt shook his head. “I know. I’m probably just as lost.”

  “I just hope they find him, that he’s just sleeping somewhere in a pile of leaves, pissed off that he, of all people, got lost out there. The thing is, he would have heard the helicopters, right? Started walking back our way? Wouldn’t the dogs have found a scent trail or something?”

  “I don’t know,” Matt replied solemnly.

  They sat in silence for a moment, until Tuni’s voice greeted them. “Hey,” she said.

  “Hey,” they replied together.

  She poked her head in the door. “You men think you can eat? I’ve scrambled some of the eggs, and the coffee’s fresh.”

  They agreed that it sounded good—no one had eaten much of last night’s dinner, and they were hungry.

  They went to the food tent and served themselves the eggs from the pan, and were eating in silence when Dr. Rheese descended from his RV in worn black jeans and an oversize flannel shirt.

  The whole team was present, and no one had much to say. If they did speak, it was in hushed tones and brief. Longer conversations were taken away from the food tent.

  Felicia broke into silent, quivering sobs periodically and sought reassuring hugs from whoever happened to be closest. She sat next to Matt at one point, keeping a few inches away, and apologi
zed for “whatever happened last night,” then asked if he and Hank were friends. Not wanting to set her off on a fresh crying jag, he said, “Sure, yeah.”

  Soon they heard a helicopter approaching. Most stood up to watch it search, but instead it flew directly over the site and hovered, the pilots looking down at them and making hand gestures no one understood. Finally, Peter realized that it wasn’t one of the search choppers and that they wanted to land, but there was nowhere they could go.

  “Well, if they have to bloody land,” Rheese announced, “it’ll have to be at the road junction—it’s the only spot wide enough.”

  Peter pointed toward the road, and the pilots looked in that direction, exchanged a few words, and turned and made for the road.

  “Why are they landing?” Matt asked as Peter started off to meet them.

  “It’s for the survey. Hank and I were going to…” He waved his hand as if that explained it, and jogged away.

  “What do you think he’s going to tell them?” Tuni asked Matt.

  “I don’t know. I doubt he’d go on the survey thing by himself—especially with Hank still missing.”

  A few minutes later the helicopter reappeared, with Peter visible in the rear. He waved to them and pointed in the direction where everyone thought Hank had gone.

  “He’s going to go do his own aerial search!” Matt said.

  “Are you sure?” Tuni asked.

  “Yeah, they said they were going to go survey west of here. That’s like… northeast, he’s headed.”

  They watched the chopper sail slowly away, zigzagging over the forest.

  Tuni whispered to Matt, “Come with me, wouldja?” She shifted her eyes to Rheese, behind them. Matt got up and followed her to the RV. She glanced back and opened the door quietly, waved him in, and clicked the door shut.

  “What’s up?” he asked.

  “Hank was buggered out over those satellite maps and all the circles and such, right? What if Rheese had something to do with him disappearing? None of us said anything when that detective asked if Hank had any enemies or recent arguments, but you know what all of us were thinking in the back of our minds.”

  Matt bit at the back of his thumb. “I don’t know,” he said. “He looked pretty pissed last night. My guess is, that’s how his type would respond when worried. He’s in my top ten list of assholes, but it seemed genuine to me.”

  Tuni gave him a disappointed look and turned to sort through the rolls of maps in the bins.

  “I mean,” Matt continued, “he’s obviously peeved with everyone being here, and that argument he had with Hank was no worse than he’d had with us or Peter or anyone else.”

  Tuni held up one finger. She glanced out the window again and unrolled the large satellite map on the table.

  “Holy crap!” she whispered.

  “What?”

  “They’re gone! All the red circles that Hank was so flipped out over—Rheese erased them!”

  “So what? It’s like dry-erase marker or whatever. It’s supposed to be drawn on, then erased, and all that. Hell, Hank might even have erased them. Actually, how do you even know that’s the same map?”

  She leaned close to it and turned her head sideways, scanning till she found the angle she sought.

  “There… look from here. You can see where a circle was.”

  Matt leaned down and saw what she meant. A faint circle was visible at a certain angle, the map’s glossy surface dulled ever so slightly by the erasure.

  “I don’t know, Tuni,” he said, standing up. “I still don’t know what one thing has to do with the other.”

  “You don’t feel like he’s been up to… shit, here he comes. Sit down!”

  She whipped the map back into a roll and stashed it in the bin she thought she had taken it from. They slid into their usual seats and tried to look glum as the door swung open.

  “Ah… dismal morning this is, eh?” Rheese said in a suitably grave voice.

  Tuni nodded, and Matt answered, “Yep…”

  Rheese looked around the room casually and asked if the sat phone had rung.

  “Nope, not in the last few minutes.” Matt answered as he gazed out the window. He felt Rheese looking at him and heard the map rolls being moved around.

  “This is interesting,” Rheese said to himself but clearly for their benefit. He pulled out the satellite map and slid it back into the bin where it belonged. Matt drummed on the table with his fingers while Tuni examined her deteriorating manicure. “Were you waiting for something, folks?” Rheese asked finally.

  “Hmm,” was all Matt could muster.

  “Of course,” Rheese answered himself. “What better to take one’s mind off the uncertain?” He pulled out his key, knelt down to the safe, and got out the k’yot piece. He slid it onto the table and unscrewed the case. “Have at it, lad. No use letting it just sit there, eh? You kids knock yourselves out.”

  Rheese paused outside the door to light a cigar, and Tuni waited until he walked away before speaking.

  “You see that?” she hissed. “Tell me he wasn’t involved now!”

  Matt nodded, “Yeah, didn’t it seem like he was trying to tell us he knows we know… or something? Or are we just suspicious of everything now because you were talking about it? Ach, I don’t know…”

  “He’s bloody guilty, Matthew. We don’t have to understand why to listen to our instincts. That said, what do we do? Peter’s up in the whirlybird for who knows how long?”

  “I don’t know. The sat phone’s right there, but who would we call?”

  “And what would we say?”

  “Hey, wait a minute,” said Matt. “You said you thought Enzi knows something, right?”

  “Yeah, he definitely knows something he’s not saying.”

  “Well, the cops have him now. Don’t you think he’ll talk? That detective seemed pretty determined. Maybe they’ll beat it out of him.”

  “Matthew!” she scolded.

  “Yeah, sorry—um.” His eyes wandered over to the artifact and lingered there.

  “You’re going to just let it sit there?” she asked. “We have our suspicions, but there’s not much we can do about it right now. Don’t worry, I won’t think you’re insensitive and selfish if you want to have a go.”

  “I was just wondering…”

  “Well, he’s an arse, and a bloody guilty one at that, but he’s right—there’s no use in just letting it sit there. There’s nothing you and I can do to find Hank right now. Just do an hour and then you’ll be able to take my mind elsewhere when you’re done. Do it for me.”

  He decided not to prolong it. He’d been thinking about Irin all morning, between thoughts about Hank. He slid the case in front of him, pulled up his left sleeve, and took off his gloves.

  The door popped open, and they both jumped as Fozzy popped his head in and looked at Matt.

  “Hey, you seen Tuni?”

  Matt pointed across the table, and Fozzy leaned in farther, spotting her.

  “Oh, hey… um, the rest of the folks were wondering if you could hook up some more of those kickass eggs. That Wekesa guy said it’s cool to use the rest as long as you turn off the propane this time—or at least that’s what we think he was saying. I was like ‘I’ll make ‘em,’ but everybody started putting their fingers in their mouths and made puking faces, sooooo…”

  “Right,” Tuni said, and smiled for the first time today. “I suppose.” She looked back at Matt and waved at him to carry on. “Just hang on, I’ll be back in a jiff.”

  Matt found his timer band twisted up in his pocket, and straightened it out before sliding it onto his forearm. The LCD screen showed “60:00.” He slid off his right glove and put it on the table beside him. He thought about doing it alone but decided it probably wasn’t a good idea without Tuni or Peter present. He didn’t want Rheese walking in and finding him alone and in a vulnerable state.

  The sat phone rang, making him flinch. Sliding over, he took it from the c
ounter with his still-gloved left hand, searching for the button to answer. All he could find was a button that said ON, and he pressed it as the third ring ended.

  “Hello?” He answered, holding the handpiece close to his ear.

  “Is this Peter?” an English-accented woman’s voice blared into his ear through the speakerphone. He dropped the phone but caught it as it bounced off the corner of the table. “Peter?” she repeated.

  “Uh… hello? No, this is Matt—Matt Turner.”

  “Oh! Hello… Matthew, yes—Peter has told me all about you. This is Maggie Gwynne, and I’ve got Danielle here with me. I work with Mr. Sharma here in Cambridge.”

  “Hello, Matthew,” another English-accented voice said.

  “Okay, cool… hi.” He set the phone down on the table beside the k’yot fragment.

  “Is Peter available?”

  “Actually, he’s on a helicopter right now… uh, doing a search.”

  “Ah, yes, I received his voice mail this morning. Awful. I take it, then, that there has been no progress?”

  “No, not really. I guess there are more people coming and some more helicopters.”

  “Very well. Now then, I wanted him to know—though it probably seems rather callous and unsympathetic under the circumstances—that Danielle received an update on the survey of other experts on impact events that she had originally compiled. Just let him know to call her when it’s a better time, and they can discuss it if he wishes.”

  “Okay, I’ll let him know. Impact event experts.”

  “And tell him that I do wish him and Dr. Rheese luck on finding that Felch gentleman.”

  “Rheese?” the other voice questioned. The phone on the other end rattled a bit, and Matt could hear a muffled conversation. After a moment, the receiver was apparently uncovered.

  “Quite baffling, really… Matthew, sorry about that—are you still with us?”

  “Yeah, I’m here.”

  “Well, Danielle was just informing me of a funny coincidence. Her counterpart in Berlin gave her Dr. Garrett Rheese as one of the experts from their roster.”

  “Oh?” Matt didn’t catch the significance.

  “Yes, quite strange that out of the three they consider the foremost authorities on the subject, you’ve got two there with you. Or—sorry, terribly insensitive of me—that you had two.”