The Smuggler's Seal

Out of Baghdad

"You got it?"

"Yes," Mattson wiped the perspiration from his brow with a shaking hand. "Where to now?"

"We rendezvous in thirty with our rides. Keep to the shadows. I'd hate to see what happens if we're caught. Indefinite detainment comes to mind, or a bullet in the head."

"If we're caught, a bullet in the head would be a mercy."

A hint of fear flashed through Jacobi's eyes, then he turned and led them into the warren of dark alleyways, into the heart of Baghdad.

~~~

"Wake up."

"Where are we?" Mattson asked, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

The convoy truck grumbled to a stop and he peeked past the canvas tarp. Endless desert spread out for miles in every direction, fading into the hazy pale light of the sunrise on the horizon.

"The Jordan crossing is five miles ahead." Jacobi said after a hurried talk with the guards. "The Americans have alerted the border crossing to be on the lookout for stolen antiquities, but there's a secret hold under the bed of the truck. We're getting in with the loot. Not a sound you hear Mattson? I don't have to tell you there will be no extradition if we're caught. They have plenty of ditches out back and I doubt anyone will notice a few more dead bodies lining them."

Mattson swallowed hard and crammed himself feet first into the narrow space beneath the floorboards. It was a tight fit. A sneering Iraqi rebel dropped the cover over him, shutting out the light. Instantly the darkness pressed in on him, stuffy and heavy as the truck rumbled forward along the gravel road.

When it came to a jarring halt ten minutes later he froze, chancing only occasional shallow breaths through his mouth while straining to hear the garbled voices on the outside. He was tempted to cry out to the guards, get their attention and stop the cylinder seals crossing the border. Certainly they wouldn't kill him for trying to turn over the artifacts, but even as he thought it, he felt the barrel of Jacobi's gun pressing into the small of his back.

Seconds ticked by. 

The gun barreled deeper into his back. Mattson's heart raced and tremors started up his tense muscles. He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his jaws, and concentrated on remaining still. One wrong move.

They waited. It felt like a slow eternity.

Then the engine engaged and the truck lurched forward, jolting Mattson as it picked up speed. He almost cried with shuddered relief as the gun pulled away, leaving an aching pain to fill its absence.

"Smart man," Jacobi's words felt hot in his ears.