Buried in the Sky

by Ryan Mullaney

  THE TREASURE HUNTRESS

  Book Four: Buried in the Sky

  by

  Ryan Mullaney

  Copyright © 2019 by Sunbird Books

  sunbirdbooks.org

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or retransmitted in any manner without the author's prior permission.

  Cover artwork by Paramita Bhattacharjee

  Edited by Margaret Dean

  Author's note:

  This is the fourth book in the Treasure Huntress series. It is strongly recommended that you read the first book in the series, The Serpent's Fang, if you haven't already. The Treasure Huntress is an ongoing, long-form story, and not a series of stand-alone novels. Important story points and developments from the first three books will be spoiled within this entry.

  To get the most out of the Treasure Huntress series, please begin with Book One: The Serpent's Fang, which you can find here:

  sunbirdbooks.org

  1.

  Mount Merbabu, Indonesia

  With the golden rays of the dying day's sun shining in Simone's eyes, she steadied herself, sucked in a deep breath, and lowered her head under the water.

  A muffled quiet surrounded her, blocking out all distractions, forcing her to focus on remaining still. She held her breath and glanced at her watch. Twenty seconds turned to thirty, to forty.

  After a minute, she felt an unsettling feeling emerging from within, deep down in the pit of her stomach.

  One minute turned to two and the urge to surface grew stronger with each passing second. But she remained still.

  Three minutes passed. The muscles in her arms twitched involuntarily and it became harder to keep her legs from kicking her up to the surface for the air her lungs were craving.

  She stared through the water at her watch, waiting with impatience, fighting the desire to breathe, watching seconds tick away like slow hours, each one an eternity.

  Three minutes, fifty-two seconds. Fifty-three. Fifty-four.

  She looked away from the watch and closed her eyes. Only a few more seconds.

  The panic set in hard and fast. Simone jumped up, gasping for a breath. She swallowed a mouthful of water before surfacing. She grabbed on to the side of the in-ground pool, coughing up water, chest heaving, water dripping into her eyes.

  She wiped wet hair away from her face and closed her eyes, concentrating on getting oxygen back into her lungs.

  Almost, she thought, and pounded a fist into the water's surface. Almost...

  It took her two months just to work up the nerve to get in the water, and another week to duck below the surface. Images of Dubai and Iceland stuck in her mind, unable to be jarred loose. Drowning was bad enough, but almost being devoured by the tsunami in Iceland only made her anxiety about the water more crippling.

  She knew there was only one way to overcome a fear, and that was to confront it head-on. The first day she ducked her head under the water in the pool, she lasted seven seconds. A week later, she was over a minute.

  It became almost like a game, trying to best her own personal high score. She'd plateaued at three and a half minutes for days on end, unable to go any longer. It became less about conquering her fear and more about training her body to do things it couldn't do before.

  It was about progress. Growth.

  Breathing normally now, Simone lifted her gaze to the sun diminishing in the valley below. Warm shafts of light peeked between the trees. The sky above was a brilliant orange and purple, and darkening quickly.

  She lifted herself out of the pool and grabbed her towel from a poolside chair. Wrapping herself in the towel, she shivered in the cool mountain air. Which mountain it was, exactly, she couldn't say for sure. She'd guessed it was Mount Merbabu, but never bothered to confirm. Solomon would never find her if she didn't even know where she was.

  "Get inside, Simone. You will freeze out here."

  Simone turned to the voice and found Indah standing there in a long robe. The woman was well into her eighties but showed no signs of slowing down.

  "Two minutes." Simone smiled.

  "I will have tea ready to warm you up." Indah went inside, sliding the glass door shut behind her before any protest could be made.

  Simone turned back to watch the sun disappear. Day turned to night almost instantaneously. She stood there in the open air, towel drawn around her shoulders, bare feet in the cold puddle beneath her.

  She'd come to the island of Java four months back after learning of Indah through Clark Bannicheck. Apparently, Indah knew Simone's mother's mother from ages ago when they were young. Indah had been a confidant for Simone's parents during their exploits in the area of treasure hunting. Enemies were easier to make than friends, as Simone had found out for herself, and a safe haven was often necessary when the heat was on.

  With her parents' journal in the hands of Solomon, Simone had no other leads to go on, and had to do something she regretted -- trust the word of Clark Bannicheck.

  He knew where she went, but not where she was. Her parents had never told Clark their safe haven's location, a fact about which Simone was equally grateful and frustrated. On the one hand, she could live in seclusion without fear of unwanted intrusion by any parties wishing to locate her for whatever reason. But on the other, it had taken three months of backpacking through Indonesia's largest island before she was able to get in touch with Indah.

  Simone dried herself off with the towel and turned to go inside, grateful for not having to look over her shoulder to see if anyone was lurking in the surrounding trees, waiting to follow her.

  Reaching her hand out to open the glass door, she saw in its reflection a bright light streak across the sky behind her.

  She spun, eyes to the heavens. The meteor burned with a cosmic intensity as it raced north.

  It disappeared as quickly as it had arrived, casting the mountain sky once again into darkness.

  _____

  "It's getting too cold out there to be swimming so late," Indah said as she placed a steaming mug of tea on the kitchen table.

  Simone pulled the chair out and sat. She wrapped her hands around the hot mug to take in the warmth. "Did you see that meteor?"

  "A what?"

  "There was a meteor, just now."

  Indah returned the teapot to the stove and sat across the table from Simone. "I did not."

  Simone sipped from the mug. She wondered how good the old woman's eyesight was if she didn't see the meteor streak across the sky. It seemed impossible to miss. But when Simone looked up from her next sip of tea, she found Indah staring at her from across the table.

  "What?" Simone asked, wondering if she said or did something unusual.

  "You are your mother's child," Indah said.

  Simone lowered the mug, pausing before it reached the table. In the time she'd been at the secluded mountaintop home, Indah had been reluctant to speak of Simone's family. There had been moments when Simone was unsure if this old woman had known her parents and grandmother at all.

  She set the mug down, hands burning from the intense heat. "How so?"

  "You just are," Indah said. "You see everything. Nothing gets away from you."

  Simone opened her mouth to speak, but she didn't know what to say. She felt as if the whole situation with Clark had gotten away from her. And now that she knew what she knew about her family, she had no idea how to proceed.

  Seizing the window of opportunity in their moment of open conversation, Simone asked, "Do ... did you know about my sister?"


  Indah brought her hands together, fingers threaded, and leaned forward on the table. She said nothing for a long time with solemn eyes cast down. Then, "I heard what happened. It was the last I heard."

  Simone sipped more tea, hesitant to push any further, yet wanting to know more, if there was even more to know.

  "Are you thinking of returning?" Indah asked. "To America?"

  "When it's right," Simone said, taken aback. She hoped she wasn't overstaying her welcome. "I just need more time."

  "There is not more time to be found. There is only the time that we have. You use it here or there, but it cannot be used again."

  The comment struck Simone with a clarity she hadn't expected. The honesty of the words made her think. Maybe she was wasting too much time hiding out. Maybe it was time to get back with Clark and do something. There was more she needed to learn, and her parents' journal wasn't going to retrieve itself.

  Indah stood and pushed her chair in. "Don't stay up late." She said nothing else as she left the room.

  Sitting alone at the table, Simone drank from her mug of tea, wondering exactly how much more time she needed. What good would another six months do? She couldn't answer the question honestly.

  She'd spent all of her time in Indonesia working on getting back to the point where she could rejoin Clark's team. That meant working out two, sometimes three times per day, every day. She'd push herself to the point of exhaustion, to the point where she would get a solid eight hours of sleep whether she wanted to or not. Each morning, she'd wake up and do it all over again, pausing only to eat, to rest, and to sleep.

  In that time, her body had healed. Physically, she suffered no ill effects. If she wanted to, she could pack up her things that night and fly out the next morning.

  Simone lifted the mug for another sip but all of the tea was gone. She set it down on the table and leaned back in the chair, turning her head toward the window beside her. Night had fallen to the point where she could no longer distinguish the trees from the sky above. There was no hint that a blazing meteor had streaked across the sky only a few short minutes ago.

  Simone found her phone on the table where she had left it before her daily pool ritual. She checked what time it would be on the east coast of the States -- morning.

  The day that Simone had just finished was only beginning.

  2.

  Dubai, United Arab Emirates

  Solomon removed his sunglasses so the two large men with guns holstered discreetly under their clothes could get a better look at him.

  Squinting in the bright afternoon light, he couldn't quite make out the expressions on the faces of the bodyguards until one of them grimaced and stepped aside for Solomon to pass.

  He folded his sunglasses and slipped them into the breast pocket of his shirt, then proceeded toward the beachfront restaurant where he and Murad Abdullah had first met.

  He didn't remember security being so prominent and unabashed in their presence in his previous meetings with the weapons dealer, but as Solomon strode toward the seating area in the sand, the necessity of precautionary measures became clear.

  Murad stood with his broad back to Solomon. He didn't see his approach. The man was preoccupied with something else, and three other bodyguards showed the same level of interest.

  Solomon took note of each table as he passed through the restaurant. Not one of the tables had any food laid out. Murad had never seemed to be one to pass up an opportunity for a meal.

  As Solomon drew closer, he saw Murad raise a fist and swing it down with brutal force. A grunt of agony mingled with a whimper of exasperation, and soon the sounds of waves lapping the shore were drowned out by Murad's voice rising above the tide.

  “Are you going to tell me now? Huh? Are you?”

  Murad pounded his fist into the other party once more. Blood glistened as it dripped from his fist onto the white sand beach.

  Solomon stopped midway between the restaurant and the site of violent interrogation. He couldn't see around Murad or through the clutch of enforcers that surrounded him. But there was definitely another party there, laid out on a table with his arms and legs dangling lifelessly.

  “Again,” Murad said.

  One of the bodyguards turned his head to Murad. “He will die.”

  “Again!” Murad commanded, and stormed back toward the restaurant.

  He was so enraged, he did not see Solomon until the two stood within a few feet of one another.

  Murad halted in his tracks, taken aback by the arrival of his guest.

  Solomon indicated the beaten man on the table. “Am I interrupting?”

  “You are early.” Murad continued toward the restaurant.

  Solomon matched his stride. “I'm afraid not, actually. I'm late. Traffic in this city is a nightmare.”

  The duo reached the restaurant's seating area. Murad glanced at the clock near the kitchen door. He huffed his frustration and sat at the same table Solomon had seen him at twice before.

  “What does not bend will break,” he said while motioning to someone inside to bring food.

  Solomon joined Murad at the table, grateful for the cool breeze that blew in from the beach, and for the shade. He wouldn't put his sunglasses back on until it was time to leave. A business deal had to be done eye to eye – particularly if the deal was to be struck with a man was as powerful as Murad Abdullah.

  Looking back at the beaten man out of sheer compulsion, Murad said, “I am not a man who wishes to waste time that could be better spent, yet that is all I have done this day.” His fiery eyes found Solomon. “If wasting time is not the purpose of this meeting, then please proceed.”

  A member of the kitchen staff brought a spread of fruits and cheeses and a bottle of wine to the table. They left a towel for Murad to dry the blood from his hands, and quickly departed.

  Murad was filling his mouth before Solomon could even open his to speak.

  Solomon breathed a covert sigh of relief, hoping the food could satiate the man enough to hear the proposal.

  Laying his hands on the table, Solomon said, “Well, I'll get straight to the point. I need men.”

  “I deal in arms, not bodies.”

  “Men with guns.”

  Murad drank straight from the wine bottle and wiped his mouth. “And for what purpose? Hopefully it is not another attempt to locate the Fallen Star. I recall the last one not going quite as planned.”

  Solomon nodded with reluctance. “Locating it wasn't the problem. The problem was Simone.”

  “Who?”

  Solomon pulled a photo of Simone from his breast pocket and laid it on the table before Murad. It was a shot of her from airport surveillance footage as she was boarding a plane for Indonesia.

  Where she went from there, Solomon did not know. Lilly had tried to find even the slightest trace of her location, but to no avail, and Solomon wasn't about to go searching every one of the seventeen-thousand-plus islands that comprised Indonesia. For the time being, Simone was off the grid completely.

  “This girl?” Murad asked with disbelief.

  Solomon returned the photo to his pocket. “This girl is an Olympic-level athlete proficient in several martial arts and backed by the most powerful military in the world. I've made the mistake of underestimating her before, and I won't do that again.”

  He left out the parts about Simone's uncontrollable alcoholism and rampant drug use, and the fact that she didn't even trust the organization she'd been working with. But none of what he said was untrue, and that was all Murad needed to hear to sell him on the idea of her being an adversary worth taking seriously.

  Recognition crossed Murad's expression as he chewed. “This is the same girl from before? The one in search of that stupid Prince?”

  Solomon nodded with intent. “The same. You have her to thank for taking the Fallen Star back to America.”

  Murad said nothing as he finished his bite of cheese. Then, “And why do you bring this to me now?” />
  “I went after her on my own, and that also did not go as planned. I spent the better part of a year recovering from a broken leg, but I'm back on my feet and I'm not going to waste any time, either, if it can be spent hunting her down and removing her from the equation.”

  “I am terrible at math so please help me out,” Murad said. “My weapons plus my men equals this girl being killed? What is the benefit of this? I have other parties that I do business with, and they can count very high, perhaps even higher than you, Mr. Solomon.”

  “Perhaps that is true. But I have what they don't.”

  “I hope it is more than a photograph of a gymnast.”

  Solomon fought to suppress his smile. Clearly, the man wasn't yet sold. “Simone deals in rare antiquities, such as the Fallen Star. Before that it was an Aztec ceremonial dagger called The Serpent's Fang, which could no doubt sell for quite a large figure. There are other such objects out there, and she will be looking for them. I can even guarantee you that she will find them. She's that good. The more of these objects she takes back to America to sit in a vault or museum somewhere, the less money there is to make between interested parties, such as you and I.”

  Murad drank another sizable gulp of wine. “How large a figure are we talking?”

  Solomon grinned. “Let's just say that I hope your friends can count as high as you say, or even higher.”

  Murad paused, his attention taken from the plate of food and turned entirely on Solomon. “How do I know this is true? You have made promises before and have delivered me nothing. You are lucky I was in a good mood when I accepted your request to meet this day, Mr. Solomon, make no mistake.”

  “You are correct,” Solomon said. “And I apologize. It was my fault that I did not properly communicate how much of a factor Simone would be in preventing me from bringing you these relics. I am being completely open and honest when I say that I'm not sure I can locate them on my own. I have limited resources, limited manpower and firepower. And my area of expertise is not archaeology by any stretch of the imagination. But if I have enough people, enough resources, I can bring you the next relic Simone recovers. You have my word.”