Page 96 of Johan.

“Johan,” he begins quietly, glancing around to make sure no one is listening. “I spoke to my friend. He says he might need between three and four weeks to complete the replica.”

I feel a surge of distress. Time is not on our side. “Rachid, we need it in a maximum of two weeks. Can you convince him to expedite the process? Work during the weekend? Tell him we can pay more, but we need the work done quicker. And no one else can know about this.”

Rachid nods, understanding the urgency. “I'll talk to him again. He owes me a favor, and I'll make sure he understands how crucial this is.”

As Rachid leaves, Lukas approaches, noticing my tense demeanor. “Everything okay?” he asks.

I update him quickly, explaining the situation with the replica. Lukas listens intently, his brow furrowing with concern.

“Where are we going to hide the Star of Ubar for two weeks?” he asks, his voice low.

I glance around, making sure no one else is within earshot. “We need a secure and inconspicuous place. Somewhere no one would think to look.”

Lukas nods, deep in thought. “What about one of the old storage tents? The ones we use for less significant finds and supplies? We could create a false bottom in one of the crates.”

I consider this, the idea taking shape in my mind. “That could work. We need to make sure it's well-guarded but also not attract too much attention.”

Lukas leans closer, lowering his voice even further. “We should also rotate the guards frequently to avoid suspicion. Only those we trust completely can know about this."

I nod, feeling a bit more reassured. “Let's get started on that today. We need to move quickly.”

We spend the rest of the day discreetly preparing the hiding spot. With the help of a few trusted team members, we create a false bottom in one of the large storage crates, padding it carefully to avoid any damage to the Star of Ubar. The crate is then placed among other innocuous supplies, blending seamlessly into the background.

As the sun sets, casting a golden hue over the desert, I feel a mixture of anxiety and determination. The next two weeks will be critical, and every moment counts. We have to keep Ludovic in the dark and ensure our plan goes off without a hitch.

It’s a quiet Friday evening, and I sit on the bed in my tent, the dim glow of a lamp illuminating the space as I type up my report. My fingers move across the keyboard, the sound a rhythmic accompaniment to the distant murmurs of the camp. But thesilence is promptly interrupted by a knock on the door. I look up, surprised by the unexpected visitor.

“Come in,” I call, and the door swings open to reveal Ludovic, his face a mixture of irritation and weariness.

He steps inside, looking around the well-appointed tent before fixing his gaze on me. “Johan,” he says, his voice carrying a hint of frustration, “I'm taking a plane to the Six Senses for the weekend. I'm tired of Salalah. Need something different.”

I close my laptop and sit back, giving him my full attention. “Sounds like a good idea,” I reply, keeping my tone neutral.

Ludovic sighs, running a hand through his hair. “You have no idea. This week has been awful. The mattress in my tent is killing my back, and don't even get me started on the lack of a proper AC. Plus, these damn bugs won’t leave me alone,” he says, swatting at an invisible fly for emphasis. “I need some real comfort for a change.”

I nod, understanding his complaints. “I can imagine.”

He steps closer, folding his arms. “Why don't you come with me? It’d be good to have some company.”

I shake my head, offering a polite smile. “Thanks for the offer, but I've got a lot of work to catch up on here. You go ahead and have a good time.”

He nods, perhaps slightly disappointed, but too exhausted to argue. “Alright then. Don't work too hard,” he says with a faint smile before turning to leave.

“Enjoy your trip,” I call after him, watching as he exits the tent. The door closes behind him with a soft click, and I return to my report, feeling a sense of relief wash over me. With Ludovic gone for the weekend, we have a valuable opportunity.

The next day, as the sun reaches its zenith, I meet Rachid for lunch in the mess tent. The air is filled with the aroma of freshly cooked food, and the chatter of our colleagues provides a livelybackdrop. The tent is bustling with activity, but our conversation remains low and discreet.

“How's the replica coming along?” I ask, keeping my voice low.

Rachid glances around to ensure no one is listening, then pulls out his phone. “See for yourself,” he says, showing me a video. The footage reveals his friend meticulously working on the replica of the Star of Ubar, each detail being carefully crafted.

I watch intently, noting the precision and skill. “Looks like he's doing a great job,” I say, feeling a surge of hope.

Rachid nods, a confident smile on his face. “It will be ready soon. We're on track.”

Satisfied, I lean back in my chair, allowing myself a rare moment of relaxation. “Good. I can’t wait for this asshole to be behind bars.”

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