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“Good,” Ludovic says, leaning closer, the scent of his expensive cologne mixing with the earthy smell of the tent. “I don't know how long I'll be gone. It depends on whether the bidding war is set up for this week, too. If it is, I'll stay over. I'll keep you in touch.”

He straightens up, a rare smile playing on his lips. “Thank you, Johan, for your dedication and loyalty. I won't forget you.”

As Ludovic begins packing his things, still marveling at the replica, I leave the tent, a wave of relief washing over me. The plan has worked.

I make my way back to the excavation site where Rachid and Lukas are waiting, trying to appear casual. The sun is now higher in the sky, casting a golden hue over the dig site. The workers move with purpose, unaware of the true significance of our findings. When I'm sure no one else is around, I lean in and discreetly say, “It worked. He called Loki straight away.”

Rachid's eyes light up with relief and excitement, a rare smile breaking his usual stoic demeanor. “Excellent. We need to move fast once he's gone.”

Lukas nods in agreement, his expression determined. “We'll get everything ready. This is our chance.”

As we stand there, the sun beginning to set over the horizon, I feel a renewed sense of purpose. We are close to defeating Ludovic and ensuring the artifacts are preserved and respected. Tomorrow, the real plan begins.

39

Johan

The morning sunalready blazes high in the sky, casting long shadows across the barren landscape. We stand on a small airstrip, a lone strip of asphalt in this ocean of sand. The heat shimmers off the ground in waves, making the air around us seem almost liquid. The only sounds are the occasional gusts of wind, whispering through the dunes, and the distant, mournful calls of desert birds.

Ludovic, dressed impeccably in a beige suit and hat, with a scarf draped around his neck, stands near the small aircraft that will take him to Muscat. His sharp features and steely eyes give him an air of authority and confidence. The pilot and a flight attendant, both in crisp uniforms, load the last of their bags into the plane. Ludovic adjusts his hat and looks back at us, a confident smile playing on his lips.

“Remember,” he says, his voice carrying easily in the still air, “I expect everything to be in order when I return.”

I nod, keeping my expression neutral. “Of course. You can count on us.”

Ludovic checks his watch before saying, “I should arrive around five p.m. in London. If you find any other precious artifacts, call me.”

“Duly noted. Have a safe flight,” I tell him as we shake hands.

Ludovic gives me a final nod and then turns to board the plane. The pilot and flight attendant follow, casting brief, professional glances in our direction before disappearing into the aircraft. The plane’s engines roar to life, the sound breaking the desert’s silence. We watch as the plane taxis down the makeshift runway, dust billowing up behind it. Within moments, it lifts off, ascending into the clear blue sky and leaving a trail of dust in its wake.

As the plane disappears from sight, a sense of relief washes over me. The first part of our plan has succeeded. I glance at Lukas and Rachid, standing beside me, and see the same sense of determination mirrored in their eyes.

“It's time,” Lukas says, breaking the silence. “Let's get to work.”

We head back to the excavation site, the vast expanse of the desert stretching out in all directions. The journey is marked by the relentless sun beating down on us, but there’s a sense of urgency and purpose driving us forward. The atmosphere is charged with anticipation as we approach the large tent where we’ve stored all the artifacts.

Inside, the tent is cool and dim, a stark contrast to the blazing heat outside. The space is filled with carefully cataloged items, each one a piece of history waiting to be preserved. Amelia and Angela join us, their expressions a mix of determination and excitement. Amelia discreetly slips off her backpack, revealing the Star of Ubar hidden inside, carefully wrapped for protection.

“We need to be thorough,” Amelia says, her voice steady. “Every artifact must be packed with care. We can’t afford any mistakes.”

We begin the meticulous process of preparing the artifacts for transport, local workers helping us along the way. Each item is carefully wrapped in protective materials and packed into sturdy crates lined with foam padding. For smaller items, we use high-density polyethylene cases with adjustable compartments. Each case and crate is labeled with detailed information about the contents.

As I remember that I need to call the dean to inform him that Ludovic is on his way to London, I excuse myself for a moment and step outside the tent into the harsh midday sun.

The heat is oppressive, and I squint against the bright light as I make my way to the nearby jeep. The vehicle’s metal surfaces are scorching to the touch, and I quickly climb in, wincing slightly as I grip the hot steering wheel. As I drive towards my own tent, the air shimmers with heat, and the dunes stretch endlessly in every direction. The jeep bounces over the uneven terrain, and I feel the familiar jolt of each bump and dip in the sand. My mind races with thoughts of the call I need to make, my heart pounding in my chest.

Upon reaching my tent, I step inside and am immediately enveloped in a welcome coolness. The temperature difference is striking, and I take a deep breath, savoring the relief from the relentless heat outside. I move to a small table, my hands trembling slightly as I retrieve my phone from my pocket.

I dial Dr. Henry Pembroke’s number, the phone feeling slick in my sweaty palm. As it rings, I run a hand through my hair, wiping away the beads of sweat that have gathered on my forehead. My heart pounds with each passing second, and I can feel my pulse quickening.

“Dr. Pembroke, it’s Johan,” I say once he answers, trying to keep my voice steady despite the excitement. “I've got news for you.”

“Very well, I’m listening.” His tone is calm but alert, the same as always when he expects important information.

“Ludovic is on his way back to London, carrying a replica of the Star of Ubar. He intends to meet with Loki, the underground art dealer Hannah told you about. He should arrive around five p.m.” I can hear the faint hum of activity in the background, suggesting he’s at his office.

There’s a pause on the other end of the line, and I can hear the faint sound of papers rustling. “Excellent work, Johan. I'll notify the authorities to have the secret services follow him until he goes to the address where he’s supposed to meet Loki.”

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