Disclaimer: I do not own Human Target and intend no copyright infringement.
On top of the crookedest street in San Francisco, midday.
After the incident at the museum the seller was scared shitless. No surprise he had agreed to hand over the calendar against the sum of money the museum offered. "The bloody thing is cursed or something! I just want to get rid of it!"
So they had decided to meet on Russian Hill, just the boys, Sergej and Daisy. Ilsa was at home, still trying to shake off the shock regarding the Rebecca ordeal. Ames was at home, too, recuperating from last night, she had sprained an ankle during the stampede of people. Mr. Binham didn't need protection anymore since the calendar was apparently the reason he'd come into someone's firing line in the first place.
Lombard Street was not exactly a quiet location, with dozens of tourists walking up and down the steps located on either side of its sharp curves despite the rather hot midday sun, but with all the coming and going at least unobtrusive.
Well, that was until the seller pulled up in a truck.
"Daisy, what did you say, how big exactly is that calendar?", Chance asked, very slowly, very calm.
"It's a lot smaller than the Aztec Sunstone, only about eight feet in diameter", she explained via earpiece.
"Did she just say "only"?" Winston's voice from his position on the other side of the street.
"Daisy, if that thing is made of basalt stone and measures about eight feet in diameter, do you have an idea how much it weighs?" Chance was still speaking slowly and calmly. "How in the world did you think we'd transport it?"
"Well, I told you it's from the Classic period and was most likely created in Palenque…"
"Word of advice…" Sergej chimed in. "Don't argue with her on the significance of that information for people not familiar with pre-Columbian art…"
"Would you sell your truck, too?", Chance asked the seller, but the seller was already on the verge of unloading what was basically a very big round stone plate.
With the help of a small electric pulley, of course.
"You've got to be kidding me! Ever since I found that thing among a cargo of pottery from Mexico it's brought me nothing but trouble. I'll definitely not give up my truck for it!"
Shall we visit the "unobtrusive" element in this again? Picture Chance standing on one of the landmarks in San Francisco, giant wheel-like Mayan thing by his side.
Oh boy. Who said this particular "client" wouldn't cause any trouble?
Maybe we should revisit this point again, too…
"I can order a truck from the museum", Daisy suggested, the tone of her voice indicating that, had the team said anything, she would have done that from the very beginning. How can you not know that artifacts from the Classic Palenque period tend to be bigger than those from the preclassic Dzibilchaltun area for example?
"Yeah, and meanwhile I'll just pretend I'm collecting money for the De Young with a very special promotion", Chance grumbled.
Not a bad plan. Unfortunately the thugs that had been after the plate yesterday at the museum were maybe a bit stupid and maybe a bit slow, but they did manage to trail the seller to Lombard Street, albeit they were a little late.
Chance saw them coming, he saw the guns in their hands, he thought of the stampede at the museum, of all the tourists walking to and fro here and he made a decision. There was only one way to avoid a blood bath.
Daisy saw him turn from her position in the van. "Don't tell me he's going to…"
He gave the stone plate a shove.
Do you know why Lombard Street is designed the way it is, with all those switchbacks? They were born out of necessity in order to reduce the hill's natural 27% grade.
27% grade, that's damn steep.
And a basalt, wheel like plate, weighing several tons, can get damn fast, rolling down said steep hill.
Daisy couldn't believe it. "That's a priceless object of art!"
"Let's hope it's also a solid object of art", Guerrero stated flatly. Just like the rest he could do nothing but watch the plate roll. Of course it didn't follow the road's curvy layout, it took the direct way, mowing through the borders of flowers whenever they got in the way.
It was a spectacular sight, no doubt about it: Cars being yanked left and right, colliding, people jumping out of harm's way… can you say "swath of destruction"? Thank God this was a one way street and the speed limit was 5 miles per hour, but still… Winston could only groan and bury his face in his hands.
Ilsa would kill them for this.
At the foot of the hill a large truck pulled up. The logo said something about donuts and cakes. The stone plate hit the heck of a Humvee, bounced against part of the precinct and was – due to its enormous speed – suddenly flying through the air.
Flying, flying… in an almost elegant curve… and…
THUNK
…getting stuck in the left side of the large truck.
"It's still in one piece!", Daisy rejoiced.
"In contrast to the rest of Lombard Street…", Winston sighed.
"Sergej?", Guerrero asked via earpiece.
"Yes?"
"Don't have kids with her."
… … …
The office, a couple of hours later.
The museum had hauled the plate off. Figuring this whole affair was far from over, Winston and Chance had accompanied it and decided to spend the night there, watching it, while Guerrero and Sergej would do some online digging to find out who might be behind all these attempts to get the calendar and why.
Sergej was completely smitten with the computer table. "Could you maybe hire me more often?" He couldn't take his eyes off the monitors. His hands flew over the touchpad. Of course, hacker that he was, he didn't stay where he was supposed to be.
"Whoa, that program, is that…?"
Guerrero quickly closed the window. "You've never seen it."
"Does it really work? I've heard about it, but…"
"What program, Sergej?"
He finally got the hint.
… … …
The museum, late in the night.
"What time is it?", Chance grunted, shaking his head and rubbing his eyes.
"Two o'clock in the morning." Winston handed him a cup of coffee.
"I was supposed to take over the watch at midnight. You shouldn't have…"
"Not much happening here anyway and with all the adrenaline I couldn't have slept anyway." Winston still didn't look tired.
"Talked to Ilsa yet?"
"Got a text message that said something about ambush of lawyers…"
"At least she isn't brooding over the Rebecca incident anymore."
Winston grunted. "Yeah, one way to look at it." He shone his flashlight at the plate. "I wonder what's so special about this thing."
"Ask Daisy and don't make any plans for the rest of the day."
"No, seriously, I mean, whoever is after this spent six years hunting down our seller and is willing to kill for it…"
Chance finally got up, switched on his flashlight and shone it at the stone, too. "There's something off with it…"
Winston accessed the internet with his smartphone and for the next hour or so they compared the signs on the stone with those of diverse other Mayan calendars.
Finally Chance stepped back. "This feels like we're looking at it from the wrong angle. If you look at that corner…" he illuminated the spot with his flashlight "…and then here…" Suddenly his whole demeanor changed, his eyes lit up, he was fascinated. "It looks like…"
His phone rang. Absentmindedly, still staring at the stone with newfound interest, he took the call.
"Ames, this is not…"
He tensed.
"Calm down! Listen to me – you've got to calm down."
Winston's stomach clenched. When Chance spoke like that, something bad had happened.
"No, no, don't call an ambulance, we'll call an ambulance. They'll be at your house in a minute, they won't ask questions."
Winston got the message, he switched on his own phone and called the special number that would sent out their very private ambulance service.
The perks of being associated with Ilsa Pucci.
He also alerted Dr. Grace. When an ambulance was needed, her services most likely were, too.
"We'll be with you in a sec, don't worry, just keep breathing, calm down." Chance was rushing out the door.
Winston didn't even think of asking about the plate. Something was wrong with Ames.
He hurried after Chance.
Forget the goddamn plate.