The Exfiltrator by Garner Simmons (read after txt) 📗

“Fantástico,” Sebastian marveled, turning the shell over in his palm.  “Perhaps an amulet or part of a necklace.  The hole drilled through like so.”

“Hand painted as well.”

“A wonderful find on our first day.  An omen of good things to come.”

“Speaking of which, any word on our winch?”

“Good news.  The university has managed to send the replacement parts by courier.  They arrived a short while ago.  I’ve asked Hector to see if he can get the winch set up and running by morning.”

“No problem, Boss,” Hector grinned.  “We work on it tonight, get it done pretty damn quick.”

“Good man,” Corbett said, turning to the others. “Time to head back and get some sleep. The real work starts tomorrow.”

“Can’t wait,” Ella smiled as she waited for Corbett to start down before falling into step beside him.

Acutely aware of her presence, he was only half-listening as she spoke excitedly of the cave paintings once more. There was no point to denying it, he thought. There was something about her.

Reaching the encampment, they stopped before the entrance to her tent.  From inside came the sound of voices.  The two girls from Munich with whom she shared the tent sat on the edge of their cots speaking together in German.  Ella turned to him and hesitated.

“I just wanted to say thank you,” she said at last.  She was standing there in the darkness looking up at him, her body invading his space.  He had an odd sensation as if they had somehow been on a date.

“Thank me…?” he repeated, not quite certain what she meant.

“For including me, taking me seriously,” she replied, struggling to find the right words.

“All I really ever wanted,” she began again, “is a chance to make a difference.  Aside from your lecture back at Northwestern, it’s what made me decide to go into archeology.  Women like Margaret Mead and Mary Leakey were able to make their mark totally irrespective of men’s approval. But unfortunately, here in Spain, things are different.  Half the time, I feel like I’m back in the Middle Ages. Women are still expected to know their place.  You heard Roberto today.  Spanish men just seem threatened by a woman doing what they see as a man’s job.”

“You’re not wrong,” he acknowledged with a sympathetic nod. “It’s obviously different here.  Chauvinism is part of the culture.  You just can’t let it get to you.”

“I know you’re right,” she shrugged.  “It’s just…” She struggled unable to put it into words.  Her face reflected her frustration.

“…Not easy,” he said, finishing her thought.  “You’ve got to keep a sense of humor.  Let me tell you story.  Some years ago, there was an archeologist working in the Levant.  And there, while exploring a cave near the Dead Sea, he came upon an ancient urn hidden among the rocks.  Inside the urn was a scroll containing a new, heretofore unknown Gospel that predated every known Biblical text.  Excited, he returned to his tent and began to translate it.  The scroll retold the story of the Creation but with a startling revelation:  When God created the human race, it was Eve, not Adam whom he first created.  Even stranger, as He modeled her body out of the clay, God had given her three breasts.”

Reacting, Ella couldn’t help but smile as Corbett continued.

“Staring in wonder at herself, Eve marveled at God’s handiwork.  But when she came to her breasts, she frowned.  Seeing this, God asked: ‘What is wrong, my child?’ and Eve answered: ‘Not to sound ungrateful, Lord, but having three boobs feels really strange.’  Realizing she was right, God reached down, and cupping the middle boob in his hands, he removed it.  ‘Much better,’ said Eve. ‘Thank you.’  And God beheld his work and was most pleased. ‘But,’ He said at last, ‘what am I going to do with a boob like this…?’  And thus, God created man.”

Caught completely off guard, Ella started to laugh. “You are terrible…!” she whispered.

Corbett smiled. He liked the sound of her laughter.  “Now get a good night’s sleep.  The morning will be here before you know it.”

“I will,” she said, stopping to regain her composure before entering the tent.  “And thank you… for understanding.  See you at breakfast.”

Turning, she slipped inside her tent as he started toward his own.  The two German girls turned. Nodding in her direction, they returned to their conversation.

Still smiling at his joke, she dropped down on her cot and began unlacing her boots.  Kicking them off, she started to get ready for bed.  Unexpectedly, a sense of exhaustion overtook her as she decided to stretch out just for a moment.  Pulling her blanket up over her body she lay there.  Then just as she felt herself start to drift off the thought occurred to her that she had not found the time to run all week. If she woke up before dawn, she vowed, she would try to put in at least a half hour workout before breakfast. Closing her eyes, she immediately fell into a deep sleep.

*****

Making his way through the encampment to his tent, Corbett attempted to clear his mind.  Between the demands of the expedition and the need to exfiltrate Tariq, the last thing he needed right now was to become romantically involved.  Objectively, he had to admit that he felt attracted to Ella.  But given the circumstances, it was critical he keep her at a distance, at least emotionally.  Yet there she was, occupying his thoughts, seemingly making herself available.  Or were these unexpected stirrings he was feeling toward her simply an indication of his own susceptibility?

Setting his thoughts of Ella aside, Corbett turned to more pressing matters. First, there was the email he would need to send to Asurias detailing their first foray into the cave.  Then came the matter of getting word to Reed regarding his encounter with Amaia at the