He slammed the briefcase closed, and as he did so, felt something rattle. Interesting. He hadn’t seen anything that might make that sound. He went through the process of opening the lock again, which meant more manhandling of Lincoln. He wasn’t quite so gentle this time.
“If you mess with our health coverage, I will consider that a breach of my employment contract. You hear that, motherfucker? Just quoting your own half-sister, by the way.”
Once the briefcase was open again, he felt the lining for signs of hidden pockets. Jackpot! He had to tear the lining to get it out—he could always say the crash did that—but when he did, goosebumps ran up and down his arms.
It was a dog tag, but instead of a name, it had four numbers printed on it. Was that the code for the med kit?
He set down the briefcase and turned his attention to the med kit. There was no obvious place to enter the code—unlike the briefcase, the med kit didn’t have a screen. All it had was that pinprick of red light.
He tried reciting the numbers out loud, but that didn’t work. He tried the same thing in his best imitation of Lincoln’s voice. Nope. Finally, as a last-ditch attempt, he waved the dog tag in front of the light.
The lid sprang open.
Not a pill or a syringe to be seen inside this med kit. Instead, its interior was lined with a dense high-tech fabric and had been modified to hold one item, and only one. Rory drew it from its nest and gazed at it in awe.
A crystal about two inches long sat in the palm of his hand. He didn’t know its purpose, what it was made of, or anything else about it. All he knew was that it was beautiful—beyond beautiful. Hypnotic. Mesmerizing. It held a radiant glow in its clear, sparkling depths. At the core lurked the tiniest hint of a color that could be considered blue, but only if you used a more rare word, like azure, or cerulean. It was the color of the most perfect day you’d ever experienced, or maybe one you hadn’t yet experienced. It was the color of nirvana, of heaven, of pure and endless peace.
Just staring at it made all Rory’s worry and stress drain away. What was it? Why had Lincoln locked it away in this unassuming steel box that was so much more than it appeared? Where had he gotten this crystal, if that was what it was? Rory had never pictured his boss as the hippie new age crystal type.
He glanced back at Lincoln and saw a slight smile curve his lips. Maybe he’d felt the glow of the crystal from there. This was what Rory was supposed to guard. But why?
“Is this your big secret, man?” he asked—to no response, of course. “What should I do with it now?”
On impulse, he pulled out his phone and turned it on. He took a few photos of the crystal, then he switched to video mode and recorded its gentle glow. When he was satisfied, he carefully put it back in its nest, then closed up the box. Then he wrapped it in a hoodie and, for now, tucked it deep in his own overnight bag.
Maybe there was something in the briefcase that would explain what that crystal was all about. He sat down with it and, with a muttered apology to Lincoln, dove in.
A puff of wind whispered through the tent, as if he’d called it to him. He smiled, and whispered back, “Hey, you.”
11
Mathilda squeezed the rain out of her hair and stormed into the guest tent. The pittosporum reconnaissance mission had been a bust. Not only had she not seen Hector, but Diane had filled her in on some upsetting information about Lincoln Kerr. On the way back, they’d been caught in a downpour about half a mile from the camp. She’d gotten drenched, and the first thing she’d noticed when they’d gotten back was her laundry dripping on the clothesline. She’d been looking forward to slipping into some cozy dry clothes. Now they were all as sopping wet as she was.
Hadn’t she specifically warned Lincoln that rain squalls could come through at any moment, and he should grab her laundry at the first hint of a raindrop? Instead of tending to her laundry, as he’d promised, he was sitting on the floor next to his pilot’s cot, eyes closed, fondling his briefcase.
She cleared her throat and tapped her foot on the floor to get his attention.
Lincoln’s eyes flew open and focused on her. “Oh hey.” He gave her such a sweet smile that she almost forgot to be mad at him.
But not quite.
“Did you not hear the torrential downpour that just came through here?”
“No, I didn’t. I felt the wind, that was nice. Did it rain?” He peered past her, through the bug screen, with a bewildered expression.
“It poured. On the bright side, our water tanks are probably full again. On the other hand?—”
“Your laundry. Crap.” He climbed to his feet and shook cramps out of his legs. “I’m really sorry. I’ll go do it now.”
“There’s no point now.” She was so puzzled by his behavior that she set aside her irritation about her laundry. “What were you doing when I came in? It seemed like you were in some kind of trance, bonding with your briefcase. Are you going through business-deal withdrawal or something?”
“Oh, I uh…” He looked at the briefcase as if he’d never seen it before. “This. I finally managed to get it open. I’ve been going through my papers.”
For some reason, she didn’t quite believe him. Going through papers didn’t generally make people’s eyes close in what looked like meditation. “Why are you sitting on the floor?”
“It was the easiest place. I wanted to stick close to Rory. He’s been making sounds now and then. It might be time to start placing bets on when he wakes up.”
She felt her mood brighten. She always enjoyed a good bet. “I’ll put five dollars on sometime tonight.”
