"It's between the two of us, Michael," said a man in a black tuxedo,his stance precise, voice low and sharp as the edge of a blade. He held out a parcel wrapped in brown paper.
Michael — a broad-shouldered man with sun-bleached hair and tired eyes — hesitated before handing it over.
"Yeah, I know, but there's something about this one," he muttered. "I can't explain it, Leonard. It feels... wrong. Like trouble's attached to it."
Leonard's lips curled into a half-smile. "The only trouble is your mouth, Mike. Try keeping it shut for once."
Michael exhaled through his nose, his patience thin. "I've been in this business with you for a long time, Leonard. I always keep my mouth shut."
He turned and disappeared through the narrow metal door of the dimly lit cellar, the sound of his footsteps fading down the corridor.
Leonard rolled his eyes. "So much for partners," he murmured, shoving the wrapped package into his jacket. He spun around—and collided with someone.
"Ah, Leonard."
A woman's voice, smooth but firm. She was in her late fifties, her curly red hair streaked with gray and pinned back with surgical precision. Her almond eyes—cold, sharp, and unmistakably Chinese—studied him like a specimen under glass.
"Oh, crap!... du bu shie," Leonard stammered, fumbling the parcel deeper into his pocket.
"Have you run tests on the discovery?" she asked, her accent light but her tone cutting.
"Almost done," he lied, forcing a grin. "Just a few more checks."
She nodded once. "Good. I want the report on my desk before dawn, before it's put up on display."
Then, with a rustle of her lab coat, she walked past him and vanished down the hall.
Leonard stood frozen for a moment, his pulse hammering. Then he quickened his pace toward his office, every step echoing too loudly in the sterile corridor. When he reached his door, he slipped inside and locked it tight. Sweat traced a line down his temple.
The room was dim except for the faint blue glow of a machine dominating the corner — a tall, cylindrical device of glass and steel, humming softly like it was alive. Knobs, tubes, and keypads jutted from its frame in a tangle of impossible design.
Leonard wiped his palms on his trousers, approached the machine, and turned the blue dial.
The lights flared to life.
He pulled the package from his pocket, unwrapping it carefully. Inside lay a crystalline object — translucent, glass-like, and laced with thin markings of something shaped like a falcon with a crown etched across its surface. Tiny flecks of white metal shimmered within, pulsing faintly like trapped starlight.
He placed the object into the sample tray and slid it into the machine's chamber. His fingers danced over the keypad, typing D1, then pressing a large red button labeled REPLICA.
The device began to hum, lights flickering. A faint vibration ran through the floor. Leonard swallowed hard, watching as the object shimmered under the glass. Minutes crawled by. Then, with a soft ding — the sound of a microwave finishing its meal — the machine fell silent.
He opened the chamber door. Inside, resting on the tray, was an exact duplicate of the artifact — flawless down to the engravings.
Leonard's lips parted in awe. It worked.
He carefully placed the copy into the brown wrapping, sealing it tight. The original, however, he lifted gently, sliding it into a small metallic case beside his desk. After a pause, he slipped the case into the inner pocket of his tuxedo.
He stood there for a long moment, staring at the humming machine, his reflection glinting faintly in its glass surface. Then he exhaled, a sly smile curling across his face.
The clone would go to the archeological lab and then to the museum.
The original — that was his ticket out and would make him rich.
It was over.
Or so he thought.
YOU ARE READING
JATMOR
AdventureA group of teenagers come across an ancient hieroglyphics text, that told about the gem that could raise the dead, only that the body had to preserved just like Egyptian Mummies ,but they were in Florida, miles away from Egypt. "Be mindful of who to...
