I walked through the busy streets of Moscow, attempting to find the restaurant, "The Jade Plate," translated from Russian. The man I was meeting was a well-known treasure hunter and ran archeological digs all across the country. He wasn't one to donate it to a museum, he'd rather keep it or sell it for an absurd sum of money to some enthusiast. But Brody said he was willing so I had agreed to meet him.
Ofcourse, I wasn't stupid enough not to bring a gun. I knew that these deals often went south and a gunfight was always an option. As I turned a corner it began to rain, but thankfully I spotted the restaurant just down the road. I waited impatiently for the cars and tried to cross the street early. I got swore out in Russian or Ukrainian, not sure which, but got to the other side and to the front entrance. It was a high class establishment. Waitors wore suits and the building was packed full of people. I walked up to the front desk.
"Table for one?" The woman asked with a thick accent.
"No, I'm here to meet Nicolai Azarov." I explained.
She turned her head and didn't put much effort into looking around. "There is no one here with that name. We are full tonight, sir."
An older man, about fifty, stood up from the nearest table. He whispered something to the woman and she nodded. She walked me to the table and handed me a menu and a wineglass. Returning to her post, I sat down but was careful not move my chair in. "Sorry about that, Dr. Jones, Azarov is my allias. I'd rather not share my true first name."
"That's quite alright, I'm just here to discuss the artifact you mentioned in your letter." I assured.
He smiled, "Straight down to business, the only think I like about you Americans. But first some drinks," He paused and waved at our waitor, a younger man with a bald head. "I'll have a scotch on the rocks and my associate will have a-"
"-Scotch, neat." I answered.
The waitor scribbled it down on a notepad and left the table. Azarov pulled a small burlac sack from underneath his chair and placed in on the table. "We just uncovered this a month ago. It appears to be from the medieval period but we're not experts." He explained, pulling the string at the top. He poured the contents out onto the table, a jewel encrusted silver cup, a golden dagger with a pair of initials carved into the blade, and atleast a dozen golden coins. I removed my glasses from the inside of my jacket and inspected the dagger. The initials were HF and they were beautifully engraved. The hilt was leather woven and the dagger was so sharp I cut my finger by just running my finger over the tip of the blade. The silver cup was inperfect, probably made by a combination of silver and a common metal like iron or steel. The jewels were blue, sapphires by my guess, and they shined in the dim light of the restaurant.
I sat back in my chair. "This are in very good condition," I said, "Where did you find them?"
"Well if I told you that Dr. Jones then you could take over our excavation site and take the artifacts from the source. And then I wouldn't make any money, now would I?" He held a grin which I managed to match. Our drinks came a moment later but they had brought us two scotch on the rocks. Azarov didn't notice so I just ignored it. "Now how much money are we looking at here? Brody told me that you'd be willing to pay a hefty check."
I finished my scotch and put the glass down. "I'd say about fifteen thousand for the entire set."
His smile faded. "Only fifteen thousand dollars? Are you mocking me? This is easily worth double that. Silver, sapphires, and gold, it's worth a small fortune!"
I shook my head. "You'll take the fifteen thousand or I will fly home." I said in a harsh tone. "Our museum is not capable of funding a purchase of that magnitude.
Azarov stood up from the table, "I will not let you cheat me like his. You damn capitalists think you can walk all over the guy just trying to make a quick buck?"
"This has nothing to do with politics Azarov, I'm telling you we don't have the money. I only brought a fifteen thousand dollars with me and that's all that I will pay." I reached for my revolver but he drew his faster. I made an obvious mistake.
"You will give me that money, but I will not give you these artifacts. You will walk out of this restaurant and you will fly back home to the shithole you call America." I reached into my jacket pulled out half of the wad of cash. I threw it down on the table.
"Hold on, I have more in here somewhere..." I trailed off and smiled, "Here it is." I pulled out my revolver and shot him in the shoulder. He pulled the trigger but his aim was off and thankfully missed me by a hair.
"Okay, okay! I will accept the fifteen thousand!" I fished out the rest of the payment and sat it down. I cleared the artifacts off the table and pushed them into the sack. Keeping my gun on him, I slowly backed out of the restaurant. He didn't move but I across the room someone pulled out a machine gun. They pulled the trigger and ammuntion sprayed in my direction. I made it out the door which absorbed most of the bullets. I ran out into the street with no clear direction where to go. The airport was on the other side of the city and there was no way I could walk there. Down the road I could see a horse drawn carriage parked outside a hotel. The door burst open and the man along with Azarov were holding guns. I broke into a sprint before they could take aim and headed towards the horses. Bullets hit the sidewalk around me and flew past my head. A stray hit me in the leg and I tripped and fell flat on my stomach. This wasn't going as great as I expected.
They caught up to me and rolled me over to point their barrels in my face. I reached for my gun but it had fell into the road after I fell. I was too far away to grab it. I closed my eyes and clenched my fists. Azarov stood over me, "Did you think I'd be foolish enough to forget to bring backup?"
"No, and I didn't forget mine either." I laughed.