Page 100 of Johan.

I nod, my gaze still fixed on the horizon as the last rays of sunlight disappear behind the dunes. “Me too,” I reply quietly, taking another sip of my tea. The warmth of the liquid spreads through me, grounding me in the present moment. I then add, “You and Dr. Angela should come back and lead the team. There’s still so much to uncover.”

Amelia turns to look at me, her expression thoughtful and touched. She takes a slow sip of her tea, letting my words sink in. “Thank you, Johan.” She pauses, observing me. “I'm glad Hannah has you by her side.” Her voice’s sincere and filled with gratitude.

Her words touch me deeply, warming my heart and filling me with a sense of fulfillment. It's satisfying to know that I've made a difference here, but the thought of seeing Hannah tomorrow fills me with even greater anticipation. I can't wait to hold her, to share all we've accomplished, and to see her smile again. Despite the distance and time apart, my feelings for her have only grown stronger.

A few hours later, at 1:00 a.m., the camp comes to life with the soft glow of lanterns illuminating the night. The cool desert airis a sharp contrast to the heat of the day, and the stars twinkle brightly overhead, creating a canopy of light. Team members leave their tents, gathering by the jeeps with quiet efficiency, their breath visible in the chill night air. The sounds of soft conversation and the rustle of gear being loaded into vehicles fill the night.

Back into my tent, I walk over to the table where the hard shell case containing the Star of Ubar is. My fingers brush against the cool, sturdy surface as I unfasten the latches and open the case. The Star of Ubar rests inside, its intricate details catching the faint light. I take a moment to ensure it's secure before closing the case and locking it again. Satisfied, I pick it up and head towards the jeep waiting for me outside.

Our drivers take us to the airstrip, located a few miles away from the excavation site. The drive is quiet, the only sound being the soft hum of the engines and the crunch of sand under the tires. As we approach the airstrip, the silhouette of a large Gulfstream jet comes into view, illuminated by the bright lights on the tarmac. The sleek, impressive aircraft stands ready to take us on the final leg of our journey.

The ground staff is already busy loading everything onto the plane. Crates filled with artifacts are being handled with the utmost care, and I supervise the process, ensuring each item is securely stowed. The metallic clinks and the muffled thuds of the crates add a rhythm to the night’s activities.

As the last of the cargo is being onboarded, my phone rings. Glancing at the screen, I see it's a call from Dr. Pembroke. I answer it, listening intently.

“The secret services have been following Ludovic since his arrival,” Dr. Pembroke informs me. “He's now at the Savoy Hotel, most likely sleeping or relaxing. They are waiting for him to leave to meet Loki so they can find out the location.”

I nod, even though he can't see it. “Good, we are starting to board soon. See you in nine hours.”

After ending the call, I ensure everything is in order before boarding the jet. Inside, the plush seats and soft lighting provide a stark contrast to the rugged desert. I carefully place the hard-shell case in a secure compartment and settle into my seat. The team follows, the tension of the past days slowly ebbing away.

As the jet takes off, I feel the weight of exhaustion settles over me. The hum of the engines is a comforting background noise as I finally allow myself to relax, the promise of success and resolution awaiting us in London.

40

Johan

As the privatejet touches down at a secluded terminal of Heathrow Airport, a mix of emotions churns inside me. The jet glides smoothly along the tarmac, coming to a gentle stop near an exclusive private hangar, far from the hustle and bustle of the main terminals. It’s been over a month since I left again for the Arabian Peninsula, and the journey back feels both like a return to normalcy and the prelude to upheaval. My colleagues—Angela, Amelia, Rachid, and Lukas—are with me, each lost in their own thoughts. The stakes of our meeting with the Cambridge Council couldn’t be higher.

The cabin door opens, and we descend the steps onto the tarmac, greeted by a crisp, cool English morning. A team of ground staff is already waiting, their demeanor professional and efficient. They quickly handle our luggage, allowing us to move seamlessly from the plane to a waiting Mercedes-Benz van. At the same time, a truck begins to be loaded with the cargo from the aircraft that will then go to Cambridge.

Rachid, ever the meticulous organizer, ensures everything is in order before we are driven away.

The van glides smoothly through the airport’s private roads, bypassing the busy public terminals and the throngs of travelers. We exit the airport grounds and merge onto the M25, heading towards Cambridge. My heartbeat brisks up as the reality of being back sinks in. This is it. In just under two hours, the most important meeting of my life will begin.

As we leave the urban sprawl behind, the scenery changes to the rolling countryside of Cambridgeshire. The sight of green fields and quaint villages brings a sense of calm, but the tension in the van is palpable. Angela, usually chatty, is uncharacteristically quiet, her gaze fixed on the passing landscape. Amelia, sitting next to her, occasionally glances at me, her eyes reflecting a mixture of anxiety and determination. Lukas, my diligent assistant, is busy organizing our documents and ensuring everything is in order. Rachid, ever composed, reviews his notes, his expression unreadable.

We finally enter the historic town of Cambridge. The narrow, cobbled streets are bustling with students and faculty, bicycles weaving in and out of pedestrian traffic. I take a deep breath, feeling a tad nostalgic to be back. The city holds so many memories, both bitter and sweet. I can't help but think of Astrid—her manipulative ways, her father's shadow over every aspect of our forced engagement. Today, after this council meeting, I will finally be able to break free from her. With Ludovic’s downfall, Astrid’s influence and power will crumble. She'll no longer have that hold over me. The thought brings a surge of relief and a pang of anxiety. And then there’s Hannah. Memories of her gentle smile, kind eyes, and the warmth she radiates flood my mind. Hannah, who I should have been with all along, suffered just as much as I did. Today, I’ll make things right withher, too. The thought of seeing her again fills me with a mix of hope and nervousness.

The ancient spires of King’s College Chapel come into view, their stone facades glowing in the morning sunlight. The van navigates through the maze of streets, finally stopping near King’s Parade, as close to the Senate House as the driver can get.

We step out, the cool air of Cambridge biting slightly at my skin, a stark contrast to the warmth of the Middle East. I glance around at my team. Angela's expression is resolute, her eyes reflecting determination. Amelia appears composed yet wary, her past trauma subtly etched in her features. Rachid maintains his usual calm, his eyes scanning our surroundings with practiced vigilance. Lukas, ever the diligent assistant, holds a folder tightly, his face a mask of focused anticipation.

Dean Pembroke, flanked by two colleagues, stands at the bottom of the steps of the Senate House, waiting for us. The dean’s presence, with his characteristic gravitas, immediately commands respect. I approach him first, extending my hand.

“Welcome back, Mr. Bentinck,” he says, shaking my hand in turn. His grip is firm, his eyes reflecting both concern and anticipation. “I hope you had a pleasant flight.” When he sees Amelia standing beside me, his expression softens. “Professor van Wassenaer, it's good to see you back. You've been missed.”

Amelia smiles, a hint of relief in her eyes. “Thank you, Dean Pembroke,” she responds, before gesturing to the rest of our team. “Allow me to introduce my colleagues. This is Dr. Angela Thompson, our chief researcher; Mr. Rachid, the representative from the Omani government; and Lukas Bennett, Johan’s indispensable assistant.”

The dean nods to each in turn, his expression warm yet serious. “It's a pleasure to meet you all. Shall we? Everyone’s already waiting for you inside.”

We follow the dean up the steps and through the grand entrance of the Senate House. The building’s historic charm is evident in every detail, from the intricate carvings on the door frames to the echoing marble floors. The hallways are lined with portraits of distinguished alumni, their eyes seeming to follow us as we walk past. It's a silent reminder of the legacy we are a part of and the gravity of our mission today.

The dean leads us to the grand council chamber, the heart of the university’s decision-making. A large mahogany table anchors the room, where the council members are already seated, their expressions a blend of curiosity and seriousness. At the table sits Sir Gregory, the head of the council; Professor Andersson, my immediate superior and head of the Archaeological Department; Dr. Eleanor Hargrove, a renowned historian; and Mr. James Llewellyn, the university’s legal advisor. Their combined presence underscores the gravity of the situation.

Sir Gregory gestures for us to take our seats. “Welcome back, everyone. We’ve been eagerly awaiting your return.”

We take our seats, and I place the Star of Ubar on the table with the reverence it deserves. The artifact’s intricate carvings catch the light, and a collective murmur ripples through the room. The Star’s presence is a testament to our work, but it’s also a symbol of the darker truths we’ve uncovered.

---