Thanks to those of you who have decided to come along with me for this adventure. I started this idea some time ago and have recently procured the time to follow it more thoroughly. You can expect an update once or twice a week. I hope you have as much fun reading it as I do writing it.
Briar
The three men standing the the largest lecture hall at Marshall College were all dressed the same: dark suites, their hair combed back and grey fedoras atop their heads. Mutt swallowed as he approached them. He knew their types: government employees.
"Don't be nervous," Molly whispered from behind him, "its probably nothing."
He wanted to believe her. But the last time men like this had shown up, he had spent a month in the Middle East trying to to rescue an ancient map rumoured to lead one to the Fountain of Youth. He had to leave Molly in charge of his dig as he risked life and limb for the United States. It had been one of the best times of his young life.
"Good afternoon gentlemen," Mutt offered as he reached the front of the hall, extending his hand.
"Good to finally meet you, Mr. Williams," one answered, who was wearing thick-framed glasses. "My name is Bates, Jimmy Bates and we're here on behalf of the president."
"Not on my account I hope," Mutt said, cracking a smile.
Nobody laughed. He could feel Molly elbow him.
"Actually Mr. Williams, we were hoping you could help us with something. You see three weeks ago, an archaeologist by the name of Eleanor Pratt found a rather curious artifice in one of the caves she was digging in southern Tibet. She said you had some expertise in this area of study."
The man to the right of Bates handed Mutt the photograph of the artifact. Holding it up to the light, Mutt could see that he was looking at something metal, possibly from the first century A.D. The metal was worn, tired looking as so many artifacts from that time period were. It was bent into a circular shape.
"I know what that is," Molly said, reaching up to take the photograph from his hands.
The three men seemed taken aback, but listened intently.
"Can you see the triangle in the middle?" she questioned, turning the picture to face the group, which Mutt joined as she let them pass it around. "That is the symbol of ancient alchemists. There should be a square in the middle of the triangle as well, though it's to hard to see from this picture alone. Where did you say she found it?"
"In southern Tibet. Sakya to be exact."
Mutt looked at her. "We could be dealing with ancient Medicine Men from China, if that's the case. Other than that I'm not sure."
"We have reason to be very interested Mr. Williams. It has become a matter of national security," Bates mentioned. "We were hoping that you would be able to fly out to Tibet."
"I'm not sure if its the best time gentlemen," Molly piped up, folding her arms across her chest in one swift, intimidating motion. "The fall semester has just begun and Dr. Williams here was awarded his doctorate only this afternoon."
"Congratulations," one of the men mumbled.
"No matter," Bates said, smiling tensely, "I am perfectly aware that this has come up at a bad time. I have another contact in New York I can speak with."
Mutt's jaw clenched. It wasn't often that he turned down jobs. He supposed it was fair though. He couldn't possibly ask Molly to take over his classes for the next three weeks. Well maybe if...
"Thank you Dr. Williams," he said, shaking Mutt's hand. Bates tipped his hat politely to Molly and then they strode down the length of the large lecture hall, leaving as efficiently as they had come.
Mutt sighed and closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. A headache was coming along. And he had just refused government work. He was not feeling like himself. He could feel Molly rub his back. He settled down in one of the small, cramped desks of the lecture hall. She took a place beside him. "Sometimes its nice just to relax for a while," she said quietly.
"Yeah," he answered, though it didn't make him feel much better. He cracked his knuckles thoughtfully as he stared at the chalkboard, contemplating. "I know you don't have your doctorate, but maybe you could fill in for me, only for a few weeks?"
She raised an eyebrow at him, "Maybe you should just give me that PhD of yours. I'll actually do some good with it."
He smiled at her. "What are you doing tomorrow?" he asked.
She blushed heavily, "Why do you ask?"
Mutt shrugged.
"I work at the Museum tomorrow and then my friend asked to proof-read her article," she answered, looking down at her shoes.
Mutt was devising some sort of plan to get her to take his spot teaching. He wondered if taking her to a swanky dinner joint would interest her. Maybe he would buy her a real expensive bottle of wine, and then another one, and then maybe he'd break into the university and show her the private collection of artifacts from the Biblical era, ones his dad had found, something to really make her swoon. She wouldn't be able to refuse him.
"-and then I was thinking it would be best if you included the methods of artifact extraction on the midterm. Especially the difference between the antiquarian style and how we do things now. I read the most awful thing the other day about how these people in Greece were essentially just-"
Molly went on about a few things, but Mutt wasn't hearing her. His mind was in other places, specifically Tibet. The amulet he had recognized from a few books someone had written on alchemy and ancient symbols. Why the government was looking in on it was beyond him.
He did not have a good feeling about it.
And more than anything, he wanted in.
Eleanor Pratt leaned against her hotel room window, staring out the Tibetan mountainside. The snow-capped peaks spoke of history and eternity. She had seen some incredible things in her lifetime, though she found nothing could quite measure to the stretching infinity she found in mountains.
Pratt placed the glass of scotch she bore in her hand down on the coffee table. She barely had enough time to turn around when she heard the door come unhinged. It only took one bullet to kill her, shattering the glass behind her willowy body and letting in the cold, unforgiving air.
Mutt had agreed to meet his old friend, Adib at the local diner. He was surprised to learn that Adib was in the country, as he had received the letter from him only yesterday. He spotted Adib, who seemed slightly out of place in his well tailored suit and sleek hair. Mutt smoothed his shirt and walked toward him.
"Good to see you again!" Adib exclaimed, standing to shake his hand.
Mutt smiled, sliding into the booth in front of him. "I already ordered you a coffee. I hope that is alright," Adib said, motioning to one of the waitresses.
"Yeah," Mutt said, rubbing his eyes apathetically.
He was shaken awake though, when the waitresses turned out to be Molly Moore. "Good morning," she chirped, pouring the steaming brew into the ceramic cup.
"Moll? I didn't know you worked here," Mutt said, glancing up at here.
"Yeah, part-time," she answered, trying hard to maintain the plastic smile etched on her face.
"Didn't you say that you had to work at the museum this morning?" he questioned, folding his arms and leaning back into the booth.
"Yes, but they're closed today," she answered curtly, taking her notepad out of her apron.
"What? But Saturday's one of the most popular days for the museum-"
"Mutt, I don't know okay? I got a call saying some people had to go in to assess some really important artifacts or something in the museum and I picked up the shift here-"
"Yeah, but-"
"I have tables waiting!" she shouted suddenly, causing a few people to look over their shoulders at the scene unfolding.
"Can you just order?" she whispered.
Adib raised his hand in a peaceful manner, "I will have the oatmeal Miss."
She smiled and scratched it in her notepad. She turned to Mutt and cocked an eyebrow. "I'll get the breakfast special-"
"Scrambled, brown toast and bacon," she finished.
"Sausage," he corrected.
"It's no good today," she shot back.
He smiled broadly at her, "Bacon, then."
Picking up their menus she strode off to the kitchen. "That's your secretary?" Adib asked.
"Assistant," Mutt muttered. "Anyway," Mutt said, changing the subject, "I'm surprised to see you in Bedford. Not really much to see around here."
Adib leaned in closer, "To be honest with you, I was worried you would not get my letter in time."
"From Istanbul?"
"Precisely. We began digging there, but as soon as we started I knew we were wrong."
Mutt knit his eyebrows together, taking a sip of coffee. "I did that translation myself," Mutt said.
Adib shook his head, "I went back and did some more research on our subject. The next person to speak of the spear head was Saint Augustine, who had received the item from a dear friend of his on his deathbed. But the part where I become confused is where the item ended up in Byzantium."
"Right, that's where we were digging for it," he said.
"I know but-"
At that moment Molly came by with more coffee. As she filled their cups Mutt asked, "Moll, how good are you at translating Latin?"
She shrugged her shoulders, "I did some in school, why?"
Adib pulled out a piece of paper. Setting the coffee pot down on the table she slid into the booth beside Mutt and recieved the text. "Careful," Mutt warned, spreading out a napkin for her to set it on.
"How old is this?" she questioned.
"About two hundred years old," Adib said. "We found it when we were doing research in the archives in Istanbul. It is a detailed account of a trip a particular artifice we have been looking for had taken a long time ago."
"Artifice? What sort of artifice?" at this, Molly turned her bespectacled glance at Mutt.
Taking a deep breath he leaned in closer to her. "We're looking for the bishop's spear," he whispered.
"What?"
"The bishop's spear," he reiterated. Turning over the page he had given her a scene from biblical writing revealed itself. It was from the crucifixion of Jesus, and showed the man hanging limply from the cross, deep wounds crossing his skin. Below the scene, mourners crowded themselves under the body of their saviour.
Mutt's finger invaded the image, pointing to a weapon held by one of the Roman generals.
"That's the bishop's spear?" questioned Molly.
"Yes," Adib said.
"The one which pierced Christ's side during his crucifixion?"
"Exactly," Mutt murmured.
Molly squinted her eyes, removing her glasses and watching the scene spread out against the dingy table's surface. It seemed rather sacrilegious to have such a thing being hunched over in a cheap restaurant. Her eyes moved to the edge of the page.
"You've torn it out," she said, running her finger along the roughened edge of the paper.
"Yeah, there, uh, are some other people looking for it," Mutt said, sipping the coffee which had cooled to a tepid degree. Molly unconsciously poured more in, warming it up for him.
"What have you gentlemen gotten yourselves into this time?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.
"Molly!" Her manager had spotted her seated with the two men. Molly quickly stood up and smoothed her waitress uniform. "I don't know how many times I have to tell you!"
Before he had finished his thought, the bottom of Molly's coffee pot was blown off by a shotgun blast.
"Everybody down!" Molly heard Mutt's voice yell.
There were screams as she noticed people hitting the floor. Molly could feel her throat go dry as she spotted the gunman aim another fire at her. He was tall, and dressed completely in black. Before she could get a good look at him a strong hand wrapped itself around her ankle and pulled her to the ground. She hit the floor hard and then another shot was fired. The diner erupted into chaos.
People jumped over her, trying to run out.
"Come here!" Mutt said, pulled her toward him by her skirt.
"Mutt!" she yelped as he leaned over her, pinning her to the ground for an instant.
"This," he said, holding up the folded piece of paper, "is very important."
She gasped in protest as he flicked open the top buttons of her uniform. He efficiently stuffed the two-hundred year old page into her brassiere. "Don't lose it," he added, buttoning the uniform back up.
"Get off!" she yelled, smacking his hands away and sitting up so fast she hit her head.
"Careful Moll," he warned, and then hauled her up.
Holding her head down Mutt made a run for the bar, ducking behind the break in the half-wall. Spinning Molly so she was facing him he said promptly, "You run for the back door and don't stop until you reach my office at the college. Do you understand me."
She nodded, her eyes wide.
"Okay," he said, "go."
"What about you?"
He smiled nodding to the rest of the diner, "I have some friends who want to say hello."