A sharp knock came to the front door of the gigantic house.

"COMING!" Ben sighed, putting down his Thursday morning newspaper. He had just gotten John and his two daughters to school several hours ago, but there was always something going on in the world of Ben Gates. Publicity was rampant and family was always on the move. He couldn't wait until five o'clock, the time when things usually calmed down. Then maybe he could appreciate some TV or a cup of coffee. Nevertheless, Ben moseyed down the huge staircase to get the front door. The doorbell rang abruptly three times in a row.

"BEN! BEN!" a voice called from behind the massive slab of mahogany, "BEN! C'MON BEN!" Ben glanced out the peephole of the door, seeing a head of dark hair bouncing on his doorstep.

"Riley?" he muttered to himself. He opened the door and, sure enough, there was Riley looking rather bedraggled and out of breath. Riley flung himself into the house, holding his iPhone in his friend's face.

"Did you…get a call…from this number…" he panted, wiping his forehead. Ben almost smiled. Even in his middle-age years with four children, Riley still had as much energy and personality as a teenager. Ben wondered how his wife dealt with him sometimes.

He read the number that Riley was showing him.

"I don't even know that number," Ben said, "but, Riley…are you all right? Do you want to come in for a minute?"

"That would be smashing," Riley said, punctuating his sentence by slamming the door behind him. Riley immediately flew into Ben's living room and flung himself onto the biggest couch. Ben followed, sitting down a bit less enthused in a chair across from him.

"Riley, you didn't have to come all the way over here, you could've just called," Ben said, his eyebrows raised. Riley groaned.

"Your cell phone is off. All the time," Riley complained. Ben shrugged.

"I never use it. And I don't even know where it is," he said. Riley looked at him in disbelief.

"Wh-what?" he said, "What could you have done with it? Did you…did you eat it? Ben, what adult goes a whole month without his cell phone?" Ben simply pointed to himself. Riley gave up on the argument and slumped back into the couch.

"Now, why would I be getting a call from this particular number?" Ben said, pointing to Riley's phone.

"Why wouldn't you get a call from this particular number?" Riley hinted as if he were about to tell Ben a huge secret.

"Well I don't know but I'd love to be enlightened," Ben chuckled. He knew how much Riley loved to know things he didn't.

"Well," Riley said, "I got a call about fifteen minutes ago from this number. I didn't recognize it, so I, of course, didn't pick up my phone. But I checked my voicemail later and guess who it was?"

"Riley. You're killing me. Just tell me what's going on."

"Basically the FBI is a grouchy three year-old and thinks we did something to break the law. Again."

Ben's eyes widened for a spit second, but he soon returned back to normal. He let out a chuckle.

"Riley, the FBI is our ally. At least most of the time. And the times they weren't were the times they were doing their job."

"But Ben-"

"I'm sure you misread the message," Ben sighed. Riley glared at him.

"Ben. I listened to it several times. They didn't come right out and say 'we want you in prison,' they said that the FBI needed to pay me a visit. But they sounded none too happy. And I was coming over to ask if you had maybe gotten the same message, because if it's something that involves both of us, we'll go down together. And it more than likely has something to do with our treasure hunting."

Ben shot up from his seat, suddenly walking about the room.

"Ben?" Riley asked, wondering what had made his friend so excited all of a sudden. Ben began digging in drawers through the room, looking under cushions and bending down to look underneath the couch. Finally, Ben pulled out a dusty object from underneath the couch.

"Ah…hello beautiful," he said to the object. He showed Riley his newfound cell phone. Riley sighed. Ben plugged up his cell phone to charger, making sure Riley saw and was satisfied.

"Thank you, Ben," Riley said theatrically.

"You're welcome, Riley. Now what was that number again? I'll check for it in my missed calls." Riley read the number off to Ben who began looking through his phone and suddenly stopping.

"Well? Do you see it?" Riley said, suddenly leaning forward in interest.

"Yeah…" Ben said in a monotone voice as if his mind were working at ten miles an hour, "and they left a message."

"Well listen to it!" Riley nearly yelled in anticipation. Ben looked taken aback, but dialed his voicemail anyway.

After two minutes, Ben hung up the cell phone. A look of fright came over his face.

"See? What did I tell you," Riley said in a satisfied I-told-you-so voice.

"What could the FBI possibly want from us? What did we do? We haven't done any excavations in…how long has it been?"
"Eh, about ten years," Riley shrugged, "our last one was when Andi was about five." Ben nodded.

"And we haven't done any government work in ages," he said, looking out his window, "what could we have possibly done to be wanted again by the FBI?"

"I really don't know," Riley said, "but I'm not looking forward to any appointments with them any time soon."

Almost as if it were on cue, a siren sounded off into the distance.

"You don't think…" Riley said, his face paling. Ben looked out the window. No cars were in sight, but he knew the sound of those sirens all too well.

"Get ready, Riley," he said, "I think we're getting visitors.