Priced to Move

girl.”

I give her a sheepish look. “Thanks. I forgot we’d taken them out of my suitcase at the hotel. Then I was so ready to get back to the mine, I never gave them another thought.”

She grins. “A girl has to be prepared, I always say—so does Livvy, but she’s not here, so she doesn’t count right now. And don’t you go telling her I said that. But I had me a good idea this mining business was going to be a filthy affair, so I wasn’t about to leave them back in the room to do you no earthly good.”

I slip a mask over my head and hurry after Hannah. She takes the extra one and gives me a mischievous wink. “I see Miss Mona’s version of the Boy Scouts’ ‘Be prepared’ motto strikes again.”

“I’m glad she was more on the ball than I was.” I give her a wry grin. “We’re going to walk out of that pit over there with lungs that work. I know a good thing when I see it, and Miss Mona’s the real deal. Wacky, but smart too.”

“You don’t get to make a success of your own cable shopping network at the time of life when others are crocheting doilies if you don’t have a good set of brains and smarts. I love the lady.”

“We all do,” Max says from right behind us. “Even though I’m new to the network, I already think the world of her. She’s a class act.” He points. “Do I get one of those things? Every time Andie moves, she kicks up a windstorm and chokes us with her dust.”

“And you don’t kick up dirt when you walk around this place?”

“I don’t impersonate tornadoes. I walk.”

The nerve of the man. “I walk too. But I’m a woman on a mission. You know—places to go, people to see. What you call shuffling, others more on the ball would call a busy hustle.”

With that, I turn to follow Hannah and the mine manager—I can’t even begin to torture my tongue into the foreign noises that make up his name. I’m not Burmese. I’ve never had to utter that kind of sound. I’m now convinced you have to be born Burmese for your tongue to twist like that.

One by one, the miners make their way down the mouth of the mine. I follow, then Hannah comes in, her camera whirring away, capturing every last detail.

“It’s hard to believe I’m really in a ruby mine in Burma,” I say loud enough for Hannah to get on tape. “But lucky for you, ladies and gentlemen, you get to come along with me.”

The mine tunnel is about eight feet high, seven feet wide, and goes into the rock for about twenty-five feet. While I’m thrilled to be here, the candles the miners use to light the way don’t do a thing for me. They eat up a whole lot of oxygen, and I kinda like to breathe. The alternative? Not so much.

Now I wish I’d brought one of those Tim-the-Toolman-Taylor kind of three-foot-long halogen lanterns with me. But, back home, I knew getting just about anything past customs into this country would be a hassle. I didn’t want to square off against Myanma authorities the moment I landed. And to think Max the Magnificent made fun of my plenteous luggage; I could have brought more.

Where was I? Oh yeah. That’s right. I reach out and touch the rough stone walls, etched with the tracks of the jackhammers that carved it out of solid rock.

Then, from somewhere out beyond the other side of the mine tunnel, an explosion steals my voice.

The world tilts off its center.

The earth shakes.

When I lean against the wall of the tunnel to keep myself from going down, it continues to shimmy up a storm. To my horror, a creaking reverberates down from somewhere near the mouth of the pit.

Deathly silence follows.

Then, in hushed tones, the miners start to jabber. Bet they’ve seen more than their fair share of killer mine explosions in their lifetimes.

Besides all that, clouds of dust eddy around us. Even through my mask, I breathe in the dirt mixed with the scent of humidity, a rare stink of mold, mildew, some sort of organic rot. I don’t know what it might be. I just know I don’t like it. I grab Hannah, who looks shocked and beyond the grasp of reality. “Come on! Let’s get out of here. This place is about to crash. And I don’t want us to be here when it does.”

Her face goes gray. Her teeth chatter. But in spite of her obvious fear, she starts to move forward, her camera still on.

What a pro. But one in danger. “Run!” I urge her.

The men either hear my cry or figure they’d better do likewise, because moments later, they ooze out of the tunnel and cluster on the dust-clouded mounds outside.

“Hurry, hurry, hurry!” I urge Hannah and wave at the men. No one should stop until they’re far, far away from this place.

Finally, I spot the mine manager. “What happened? I didn’t think you used dynamite here.”

“We no dynamite, Miss Andie.” The tight line of his clenched jaw leaves me no alternative but to believe him. Not that I’ve ever not heard him speak the truth. “I will find who do this.”

As we reach the entryway, another blast shocks us. I spot Miss Mona at Max’s side, all frothed up into a lather. Who can blame her?

I stick my fingers in the corners of my mouth and give a good blow.

They turn.

I point to the van. “Now!”

What a change! Max doesn’t give me grief. The only thing that does give me grief is the thought that one of us could’ve been hurt—or worse.