“I’m a bit busy now. Could we schedule an appointment?” the explorer asked. Finding the professor had been easy enough. He was in Milwaukee for the whole week, and Frink had correctly guessed the man would be spending time in a warehouse full of finds.
“It’s regarding official government business,” stated Agent Andy. Andy was wearing a black suit and tie, exactly like Johnson. Both agents also wore shades. Just in case, the agents had their false FBI badges and ID’s out.
The professor stood up and turned around. He had round glasses like Frink and owlish eyes. He was also painfully thin. “I suppose I can spare a moment. How about we go to that little café on the corner?” The archaeologist left the room with that, apparently not caring if the agents followed him.
Johnson and Andy looked at each other without any expression. Then Johnson ordered, “Stay here and wait for my instructions. I will uncover the location of the artifact. When I tell you, open the crate containing it and carefully move the crate to the vehicle.” Johnson followed the professor.
***
Revod’neb stopped his thoughts for a moment. He could feel the presence of them. Enforcers of the law. And they were close.
This was his chance. Only law enforcers or politicians could release him from the Knives. Only they could safely touch it. The fools that transported Revod’neb had used machines and tools, so they had not yet been affected. But if he could trick the enforcers into freeing him . . .
***
At the café, Johnson began questioning the professor about his recent discoveries from the time they sat down. The agent had a voice recorder on him, so there was no need to write anything down. “What did you find during your most recent travel to the Middle East that you will be presenting this weekend? Where did you find it exactly? Has anyone been in contact with it? Who aided your excavation? How was it transported?”
The archaeologist answered that he had uncovered a set of perfectly preserved knives intricately crafted dating from the time of the Crusades. He was to have a seminar about their purpose and why they were kept in a monastery basement fifteen miles from Jerusalem. He had only allowed machines to touch the knives so far so nothing would be ruined. He would, however, be examining them with his hands before the seminar. At the end of his explanation, he asked, “Why? Does the federal government believe that I stole them? I do have permits and everything from Israel’s government and the airports.”
“No,” Johnson answered before asking, “What do you call this set of knives?”
“The texts and records around the knives refer to them as ‘The Knives of Oppression,’ probably due to the fact that the leader of Turks, Osman, had used them. Now, why again am I being questioned? And where is your partner?” the archaeologist said.
Johnson stood up just as the waitress came to take their order. “You have been questioned as part of an investigation of international artifact thefts. You have provided sufficient answers and are free to leave.” The agent then walked back to the car.
Once outside, he called Andy and told him to search for the crate labeled “Knives of Oppression.”
***
Andy looked for a crowbar the moment Johnson called. Then he remembered he couldn’t leave evidence. So instead, he pulled out a miniature wire camera from his suit pocket. Andy located the crate labeled “Oppressive Knives” and slid the camera’s neck into a tiny knothole in the wood.
The agent found it odd that there was no packing paper of wood flakes for protection inside the crate. It didn’t much matter, however. Once the camera was in position, Andy head a click at the door to the warehouse space. The door was opening.
Andy quickly snapped the shot, pulled the camera out, and rolled behind another large crate. The only door in the room opened, and the archaeologist walked in. After looking around for a bit, the explorer closed the door, locked it, and sat down at his desk adjacent to the door.
Luckily for Andy, the archaeologist’s back was facing him. The door was, unfortunately, the only convenient way out. Andy looked around and spotted a window on the wall to his left.
The agent took a deep breath and jumped while crouching behind another crate. He then somersaulted behind another, making minimal noise. He was now a few feet away from the window and carefully crawled to it. He stood up a little and tried to open it.
It wouldn’t budge. He tried more force. It still wouldn’t move. Andy shifted his position a little to get better leverage. As he did so, he accidentally stepped on a piece of pottery.
The noise snapped the archaeologist to attention. The man stood up and looked back toward the window. He began to walk to it. Andy knew he would be caught.
Just then, a knock came at the door. The professor turned around again and went to the door. He opened it and a man in a red cap was standing there with a cardboard box. “Pizza’s here.”
Andy saw his opportunity and took it. He stood up again and forced the window open without causing it to fly too far upward. The suited agent then crawled out the window and grabbed onto the rim. He dropped down a bit and began hanging down from his hands.
In the alley below him, the team’s car pulled up. Johnson popped out, moved directly beneath Andy, and said in a whisper, “Let go.”
Andy reluctantly obeyed and fell twenty feet into Johnson, who caught him with amazing grace. Andy looked at Johnson queerly. Johnson responded with the phrase, “Martial arts training.”
They both entered the vehicle quickly and drove off.
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