Vault of the Oracle
Chapter 4: Travel

A/N- Fun fact: the flu can really mess with your writing. Ugh. That's my excuse for the lateness of this chapter. Anyway, thanks much to everyone who's reviewed! Abigail will come into play later, but it'll be at least another chapter or two.
Disclaimer again- Just in case there was any question, I still don't own National Treasure, this is still fanfiction, and Ben's still hatless.

"Riley, that's the sixth time you've checked your backpack since we got on the plane." Ben couldn't quite hold back his laughter as his companion started to dig through his carry-on. Again. "Relax, would you?"

"Uh huh. We'll see who's laughing when we find a crazy bull-dude running around." The younger treasure hunter gave him an affronted look. "We've found enough things that don't exist to convince me not take my chances, and that's final!"

Ben shook his head, amused. He was fairly certain that Riley didn't really expect to encounter a minotaur—the kid was entirely too smart for that. He hoped. But give him an opening... "All right. I defer to your skill at planning ahead for the least likely situations. Did you bring a camera? If you do tangle with a minotaur I want pictures."

After nearly a full minute of silence, Ben was forced to conclude he'd accomplished the impossible: he'd left Riley speechless. He took a few moments to savor his victory, then felt curiosity getting the better of him. "What exactly did you bring, anyway?"

"Essential anti-bull supplies, of course. Observe." He opened the pack again and pulled out a piece of red cloth, a metal keychain, a book, and what appeared to be a Nerf crossbow. "There aren't really any stores back home that carry bullfighter capes, so this bandanna was the best I could do on the traditional approach. This," he held up the keychain, "is the symbol of the Horde, because minotaurs are kind of like tauren so maybe I can convince him I'm on his side. There's a book on Greek mythology because hopefully if I just tell the minotaur he's already dead, he'll keel over. And the crossbow..." He paused for a few moments and then shrugged. "Everyone knows a centaur with a crossbow would beat a minotaur with a trident. I'm not a centaur, but he probably won't have a trident, so it'll even out."

Apparently that was Riley's revenge for being caught speechless. Ben had known he'd probably regret asking the question, but wow. Wow. "O... kay... um..." Where could he even begin to respond? "I don't think the minotaur actually had a trident, where'd you hear that?"

"Not telling." Riley grinned and started packing up again. "You don't spend nearly enough time on the internet, Ben. We need to fix that. Then you'd know these things."

"Can I pass?"

"Sure. Your loss though."

For several minutes, they sat in silence, Riley staring out the window and Ben trying to muster up the motivation to get in his own bag and dig out a book. The mental image of a minotaur and centaur locked in an epic battle was stubbornly refusing to leave his mind now, and... wait. He looked over at his friend, waiting for Riley to notice someone was staring at him.

Two minutes later he figured he'd waited long enough. "Riley?"

"Uh-huh."

"How did you get... a crossbow... on the plane?"

"It's a toy crossbow, Ben."

"You're not even allowed to bring water on the plane!"

"Don't bring logic into this, that's completely unfair. ...You don't want to know the answer anyway."

After a moment's consideration, Ben decided that was probably true.

All right. Time to get on something he really should have done a long time ago. His first reaction to the copy of The Templar Treasure in the guest room was that he was being given a hint, but the fact that it was there when he first walked in eventually sank in. No subliminal messages. It just happened to be there, greeting him every time he walked into the room, staring at him while he tried to sleep, demanding to know when he was finally going to give a real look at the work his best friend had poured his heart into.

And it was a little disturbing that a book could do all that, really. But he'd been distracted again—by moving, again—and then it had hit him where he was moving. In with Riley. Yes, the very same Riley whose book he hadn't read.

Guilt could be a savage little critter when it pounced and got its fangs into you, Ben mused as he flipped the book open.

Introduction: Things my lawyer said would be good to mention.

You now hold in your hands the definitive account of the greatest treasure hunt ever. Why was it the greatest? Well, there's the excitement, the adventure, the suspense, and a lot of other great qualities that they talk about in movie trailers. But the most important thing is, the treasure in question didn't exist. Or at least, that's what the historical community would have had you believe until it was sitting in their laps.

Before reading any further in this book, there's something you should know. The stunts described during the search for the Templar treasure were not performed by trained professionals under carefully-controlled circumstances. It was all real, all scary, and all perfect for YouTube if only we'd had the foresight to bring a camera.

Ben snickered. He wasn't certain what he'd expected, even after glancing through the chapter on the President's Book, but it was all just so... Riley.

Which brings me to my next point. Don't try this at home. Seriously. A lot of good karma was slaughtered to make it out of the hunt alive, and it's probably sitting out there in karma-afterlife just waiting for the next sucker to blow up a ship in the Arctic Circle. Don't tempt it!

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed his friend shooting covert glances at him, watching for a reaction. There was something odd in his eyes. Worry? Fear? What, did he honestly think Ben wasn't going to like... wait. Ben had taken months to even open the thing. Okay, so maybe he had a point there.

"Hey Riley."

"Yeah?"

"When's the sequel due?"

He didn't get a straight answer to that, but the grin on the young man's face said it all.

--

"Hmm. This is not so good."

The woman's green eyes had already narrowed to slits, but somehow they managed to narrow even further. She'd probably reread the department email from Dr. Xylander twenty times. It was no better on the last read than on the first—and wasn't the definition of insanity to repeat the same action and expect the same result? Best to stop. She closed the window and shook her head. "What was he thinking, really?"

It had been one thing when Jason and his team had gone overseas to study the scrolls. That was what scholars did, after all. Surely not a problem. So while she'd been asked if she wanted to go along, it hadn't seemed worth taking time off her own projects.

Somehow, she hadn't at all foreseen the scrolls leading to the lost vault of the Oracle. That particular note of history was supposed to be her secret alone. And now the old fool had gone and recruited the treasure hunter of all treasure hunters to seek out the vault. Without even consulting the rest of the department. Really, how rude.

Well. Preparations would need to be made if she were to head this off. She leaned back. "Elias!"

"Yes, madam?"

"Agh!" How does he do that? Once she'd recovered from jumping three feet in the air, courtesy of her butler's uncanny ability to sneak up behind her unnoticed, she turned around. "I, ah..." Okay, so maybe another moment to regain her composure. "It appears I have urgent business in the United States, and I'm going to need your assistance."

He didn't ask. He never did. "I will prepare to leave right away, madam."

"Excellent. Also, prepare one of the guest rooms, we'll need it ready when we return."

At this, he raised an eyebrow, but then nodded and swept out of the room. She thoroughly intended to explain things to him. Later. For now, travel arrangements and research were the top priorities.

There was no doubt in her mind that Ben Gates would be able to find the vault, if left to his own devices. And that could not be allowed.

--

Chapter Two: A Windowless Cubicle

Hi! I'm Riley.

Every time I say that, I start to go over a mental checklist. Do you have a monitor? Everything plugged in? Turned on? Are you actually near the computer? Do you know what an operating system is? If I call you stupid will you call my boss?

The answer to that last one's invariably 'yes,' by the way.

I had the exciting and stimulating job every computer enthusiast dreams of... in their worst nightmares. Tech support. And this was at a university (name withheld; lawyer's idea) filled with stuffy professors who can't stand the idea that a kid the same age as their students might know more than they do about, well, anything.

So when this strange guy showed up wanting to look at the history department's database, and got laughed out of the chairman's office, I decided I might as well help him out. Not exactly out of the goodness of my heart, I admit. It was more like, how can I annoy the higher-ups today?

He was looking for someone named Charlotte, who lived somewhere in the late 18th century, and that was all he knew. Weird. But I didn't ask questions. We'd hack in, do the search, and he'd be on his way, and I'd never see him again. No problem.

If only I knew.

"Please tell me you didn't detail our, uh, second meeting in here."

Riley lifted his eyes and turned his most angelic expression on his friend. "What, you mean when I barged into your house and started cooking up hangover remedies because you were too drunk to open the door?"

That wasn't exactly one of Ben's prouder memories. Actually, he'd be more than happy to just pretend that stage in his life had never existed, and he usually did. As far as he knew, only Riley was aware of it. "Yeah. Yeah, that would be what I meant."

"I'm not telling. You'll have to keep reading. But for what it's worth, did you see any tabloids splashing 'Treasure hunter Ben Gates: does he need rehab?' on their front pages after the book was published?"

"Good point."

He found it several pages later, at the very end of the chapter.

The guy had dropped something on his way out, and that 'something' turned out to be a credit card. I've had more of those go missing than I really care to admit, and figured it would really be much nicer to return it in person than stick it in the mail and let him sweat for a couple days. He wasn't home, so I stuck it under his door and left a note.

The next day he showed up in my cubicle to thank me, which I wasn't expecting at all, and to cover my surprise I asked how the hunt for Charlotte was going. And if he didn't mind my asking, why was he looking for her?

He didn't mind my asking. He was still talking an hour later.

"Not a bad dodge."

"I thought it worked pretty well. Did you really think I'd write the whole story? Your mom could've read that book!"

Ben smirked, but didn't voice his first reaction. His mother had read that book.

--

"Good morning, Georgetown department of history."

"Ah, hello. I'm trying to reach the office of Ben Gates?"

"One moment, I'll transfer you."

She sighed at the phone as the hold music started playing. This was her fourth transfer since starting to navigate the university's phone system, but at least she was finally almost there. Nearest she could tell, Gates wasn't full-time staff—he just got a full-time office because he was, well, Ben Gates.

Made sense. She certainly wouldn't want to be the poor interim professor who got stuck sharing an office with a living legend.

"Ben Gates' office, may I help you?"

"Yes, my name is Selene Argyris. I do some work for a small press agency in Greece, and I was wondering if I could arrange a short interview? I've heard he's investigating a rumored treasure here."

Giving her real name was risky, she realized as soon as she said it. Too late now. Oh well. If she played her cards right, it wouldn't matter. She couldn't be linked to what would happen. Surely he got a dozen interview requests a week.

As it turned out, the cheerful secretary informed her, there were certainly openings in his schedule in a week and a half. It couldn't be any sooner, because Dr. Gates was in fact on his way to Greece right now on business.

On business. Selene didn't like hearing that; she knew exactly what that business would be. He works fast. I'll have to work faster. Half an hour of being transferred all over the Georgetown phone lines didn't seem to be a good omen, but she had her appointment in five minutes.

"Of course, thank you for your help. Goodbye." She hung up and headed for her bedroom, not stopping to congratulate herself on her success. It was going to take a lot more than just setting up a meeting to get Ben Gates off the trail of the Oracle's treasure. After all, he didn't have a reputation for being discouraged by the advice of others.

Time to start on plan B.

--

Chapter Three: The Gates Family's Quest

...As it turned out, Ben wasn't really working alone. Pretty close, but not alone. Enter Ian Howe, who will be playing the role of Creepy British Guy for the duration of this story. Ian believed in the treasure, but he didn't like dealing with the research aspect. He was around because he had a couple of things Ben needed: money and evil minions.

Evil minions, it turns out, are wonderfully useful. No lie. If you need a couple dozen loads of equipment moved, or a really high light bulb changed, or a two hundred year old ship dug out of the ice, just call in the evil minions. No problem.

"You know, you could probably afford to hire some evil minions for yourself if you like them so much."

Riley glanced over with half-closed eyes. "I don't. They're evil. Evil trumps useful any day."

"You could find some that aren't evil."

"Evil is a key component of evil minions. You ever heard of good guys with minions? Didn't think so."

"Fair enough."

Ian had four. His right-hand man was a guy named Shaw, who I knew right away was trouble because he didn't have a first name. (It was Casey, but I had to do a lot of research to find that out.) I'm not entirely sure what his job was, other than to stand around and look scary. He also seemed to have crime on the brain. Iron pens, anyone? I pegged him for an ex-con immediately.

I'm smart sometimes.

Ben was about to comment on that, but when he looked at Riley again he saw the young man had drifted off to sleep. Understandable, considering he'd stayed up all night packing. And, probably, working out ways to smuggle a crossbow onto an airplane.

Well, there was no point waking him up now. Only seven hours left of this flight, after all. Ben returned to his reading.