Peyton sighed. “Guess getting shot in the head by some Man in Black trying to protect a secret is almost as good as dying in bed after a long and healthy life.”
Shay grinned. “Hey, as long I don’t die in my kitchen, I don’t care.”
Chapter Twenty
Shay pulled her Spider through the open loading bay door into Warehouse Three. She waited until the metal door slid closed, killed the engine, and stepped out of the car.
This better not be bullshit.
Peyton stood behind a long table, holding up and inspecting a small drone. He had a satisfied look on his face. He set the machine back down and picked up a headlamp. There were several pistols and magazines next to a tactical harness.
The tomb raider marched over to the table and crossed her arms, waiting in silence for the man to speak. He hadn’t looked up since she’d entered the building.
“Wonder if I could add another sensor,” Peyton mumbled. “Wish there was some easy way to detect magic.”
Shay cleared her throat.
Peyton looked up. “Oh, hi. Didn’t hear you come in.”
“You didn’t hear the massive metal door opening?”
“No, I didn’t. Sorry.”
Shay sighed. “You sent me a text and said it was important that I come here ASAP.” She shrugged. “So I’m here. Now tell me why I’m here.” She pointed to the table. “You’re obviously getting my gear ready for a job, but you didn’t tell me about anything.”
“Oh, yeah, sorry for being so cryptic, I was working on something at the same time, so I was distracted when I sent the message. The short version is, yeah, I’ve got a new job lined up. I figured you needed a little something to soothe your ego and wallet after the whole debacle in Russia and Durand getting the better of you in DC.”
Shay slammed a hand on the table, shaking the guns and electronics on top. “What the fuck?”
Peyton held up his hands. “A poor choice of words. Please don’t harm the tech guy. If you do, you’re honor-bound to take care of my cat.”
Shay took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “Ignoring all that bullshit, I thought I told you I wanted to concentrate on Durand for a while. And, yeah, because of DC and Russia. Just because he got the drop on me in DC doesn’t mean shit. I’m not through with him yet.”
“Sure, sure, but because I’m so awesome, I figured out how to make money and still point you at Durand. Or point him at you. However you want to look at it.”
Shay stepped away from the table and nodded slowly. “Okay, now I’m listening. Note that I’m the kinder, gentler Shay. I didn’t even pull my gun.”
Peyton smiled, but it looked forced. “I found a collector of rare art who is interested in Pre-Colombian-contact art. He’s interested in you recovering a solid gold Inca figurine for him, and he’s willing to pay a million dollars.”
“I’m liking the sound of this. Go on.”
He pulled his phone out of his pocket and swiped until he located a picture of what looked like a stylized golden jet fighter. “This was created six hundred years ago, and, well, you can see how modern it looks.”
Shay tilted her head back and forth to examine the picture from different angles. “Could be a coincidence. Maybe it’s some Inca’s funky version of a bird. I’d hate to see some alien grab a Cubist painting and think that’s how things actually look on Earth.”
“Sure, but a lot of people think it’s not a coincidence. They used to say it proved alien contact, and some people even claimed they did the calculations involving a larger scale model of the design, and it was aerodynamic and would fly with appropriate thrust.”
Shay nodded. “Okay. Interesting.”
Peyton put his phone down. “Once everyone found out about Oriceran, they just assumed the ancient airplane was related to them.”
“And how do we know it’s not? Not saying I won’t go after it for a million, but Durand might not be interested in this thing at all.”
“People assumed, but they didn’t check.”
Shay arched a brow. “And you did?”
Peyton nodded. “I haven’t found anything from an Oriceran source or related sources that mention them using anything that looks like this, and when you think it about it, it doesn’t even make sense. A planet of magic users isn’t going to run over to Earth and teach them about technological jet fighters.”
“You make a good case.”
Shay had long since passed the point of reflexive skepticism when it came to anything related to ancient aliens. Even ignoring everything she’d learned about Oriceran and aliens between James and the government searches, her previous tomb raids had involved her recovering things like activation artifacts for ancient Indian floating palaces. There was nothing too outlandish to dismiss out of hand anymore.
Those truths didn’t mean every artifact hunt would lead her to new history, but if she had to bet, she’d bet on weird aliens or Oricerans more often than misinterpreted ancient art. Still, a few details remained unclear about the current job.
She pointed at the phone. “You have a modern picture of the thing, which means someone already has this. I think it’s better if I try to avoid jobs that involve me having to fuck with people who already own something unless I have a damned good reason beyond money. I’m a tomb raider, not a cat burglar.”
The morality of that type of artifact retrieval was still an open debate in her mind, but, at the minimum, she liked James’ policy of only taking things from people who tried
