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“Ten thirty,” he said. “The party should be rolling by now. Time to emerge like cicadas from the ground.”

“I hate those bugs,” Joe said. “But I’ll be glad to imitate one if it means you stop kicking me.”

Kurt burrowed upward, surfacing through the hay and Styrofoam, listening for any sign of danger outside the crate. Hearing nothing, he tapped a switch on the side of his mask. A single white LED came on, reminiscent of a reading light. It enabled Kurt to see Joe rising up through the loose mix of packing materials across from him.

“This might be your worst idea ever,” Joe whispered. “When I tell Paul and Gamay about it, they’ll never believe it worked.”

“I was just trying to think outside the box,” Kurt deadpanned.

“Very funny,” Joe said. His tone suggested he was not amused. “How long have you been waiting to use that?”

“At least an hour,” Kurt said. “I know where I went wrong. Next time, we get a bigger crate.”

“Next time,” Joe replied, “you can impersonate a FedEx package on your own.”

Despite their best attempt at creating a false bottom for the crate, the hay and Styrofoam had settled all around them. The truck had been delayed in traffic. And, as a final insult, it felt like they’d been dropped about three feet at the end of the delivery.

“Good thing they didn’t look too closely at this cannon of yours,” Joe added. “It says ‘Made in China’ on the side.”

“Did you want a real cannon lying on top of you?” Kurt said.

“Can’t say that sounds comfortable,” Joe replied.

Kurt didn’t think so either. “Let’s just hope they delivered us to the right address.”

Kurt wriggled his other hand free and opened a Velcro pack strapped to his arm. He pulled a thin black cable from the pack and unwound it. Attaching one end to his goggles and the other to a small cylinder that was actually a tiny camera, he prepared to take a look at their surroundings.

“Up periscope,” he whispered.

Tapping a button on the camera, he gave it power and threaded the wire upward through a tiny hole drilled in the top of the crate.

As the lens focused, an image was projected on the inside of Kurt’s mask. It was grainy, since the back section of the warehouse was dimly lit.

“Any Japanese destroyers up there?” Joe whispered.

Kurt panned around, twisting the wire a little bit at a time. “Nothing but open seas, Mr. Zavala. Take us up.”

Kurt reeled the camera back in and disconnected it as Joe got to work prying the lid upward. Kurt took care of his side, switched off the mask light, and together they eased the top of the box backward.

Joe scrambled out first, Kurt followed seconds later and both men hid behind the

crate until the feeling came back into their limbs.

“This place looks a lot bigger on the inside than it did from the street view,” Joe noted.

A quick look told Kurt it was more of a maze than an orderly arrangement of sections. In the back, where they were, all the items were stored on the ground floor, but the rest of the space was filled with racks and shelves, in some places stacked three stories high.

“We’ll never look through all this stuff in a couple of hours,” Joe said.

“Most of it’s irrelevant,” Kurt said. “We need to focus on the items set for auction. Anything Egyptian, in particular. I’m guessing whatever they plan to sell will be on the ground floor, maybe even separated from everything else. So let’s ignore the shelves unless something catches your eye. You take the left side. I’ll take the right. We’ll work our way to the front.”

Joe nodded and put a tiny speaker in his ear, which was connected to a radio, and Kurt did the same. Both men also pulled out cameras that would take digital pictures in infrared. Pictures they could review later.

“Keep your eyes peeled,” Kurt said. “Security will be jumpy, after what happened the other night. And I’d rather not get shot or have to take any of them out to protect ourselves. If anything happens, meet back here or take cover.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Joe said. “Tasers and pepper spray aren’t going to be much use against pistols and shotguns.”

Knowing they would be dealing with innocent security guards, they’d brought along only nonlethal methods of subduing anyone they encountered.


Tags: Clive Cussler NUMA Files Thriller