Disclaimer: I don't own Human Target and intend no copyright infringement.
Finding the latest owner of the mummy in question hadn't posed much of an obstacle. Guerrero had located it in South America, at a notorious weapon smuggler's hacienda. Other aspects of the job, however, turned out to be a little more problematic than they had seemed at first glance…
"What does Tetisheri mean, actually?", Ames asked.
"Do you really need to know this now?" Chance climbed a little higher up the metal bar, just in time to escape the crocodile's impressive jaw, snapping shut only inches from his heel.
"Maybe I don't want to die stupid." Ames would have shrugged her shoulder, hadn't she been dangling from a bar herself.
"Positive thinking, Ames", Chance shot back. "Haven't you listened to Ilsa's team building coach before Guerrero scared him away? Positive thinking is the key!"
The poor guy. Guerrero had given him a taste of his own business philosophy…
"Tetisheri - She who never gives up, according to this website", Winston explained, radioing from their makeshift HQ a couple of miles from the South American weapon smuggler's hacienda.
"Happy now?", Chance asked Ames.
"So Tetisheri is Egyptian for "Royal pain in the ass"? Yeah, makes sense…"
One of the crocodiles violently dashed its tail against the metal bars, probably hoping its future meal would lose balance. The learning experience this action spoke of wasn't exactly encouraging.
"Any news from Guerrero?" Chance asked through gritted teeth. His shoulder was troubling him badly and the deep gash along his leg didn't help either. Not to mention that the smell of blood was drawing more and more reptiles. Heavens, why did every South American gangster have to have his own collection of prehistoric killer machines? When did Dobermans go out of style?
"Except the gunshots and the cries of pain that came over the radio five minutes ago?" Winston was trying to make light of it, but the fact that they hadn't heard from Guerrero ever since was just as discouraging as the well thought-out actions of the crocodiles.
"They weren't his cries of pain, were they?" Chance put every ounce of strength he had left in his arms, swung, tried to get one leg over the traverse strut of the fence… and failed. Instead of getting closer to safety, something inside his shoulder ripped, a muscle, a tendon, whatever… the end result left him hanging from the bar with only one arm.
Damn, they were in trouble. And judging from the shouting and crashing coming in via radio, they were not the only ones.
They had found Winston…
"So what is this?" A heavily accented voice, coming from the stairs that led inside the hacienda's main building.
"Some American tourists, trying to steal my hard earned money? My beloved jewelry? My exquisite art collection?" The boss of the weapon smuggler ring had a thin black moustache, wore a shiny white suit together with a thick golden chain around his neck and looked every bit the cliché he sounded like.
"I don't see what's so artistic about a dead woman wrapped in rags", Ames hissed, swinging away from another crocodile's jaw just in time.
"When Ilsa's coach was talking about diplomatic conversation strategy you weren't listening either, were you?" Chance twisted away from Ames so he could face the smuggler boss directly. "What about negotiating something?"
"What did she say about a dead woman?"
"Nothing, she just thought aloud, she's young, scared, you know how girls can be…"
Ames aimed a kick at Chance's posterior.
"She was talking about my Egyptian mummy, wasn't she?"
Chance stifled a groan. Great, now he knew their agenda. Giant disadvantage. Could this job get any worse? "Dead woman wrapped in rags, that could mean a lot of things…", he tried to cover Ames' blunder.
"You're after my Egyptian mummy, aren't you?"
Chance struggled for an answer. This called for some really well thought out tactical approach.
The smuggler, however, didn't give him an opportunity to reply properly. "Why didn't you tell me that in the first place?", he asked, suddenly all smiles.
Chance almost lost his grip on the bar.
"Come on boys, get a ladder and a dead pig or something, we need to help our guests to get out of there." And off the smuggler's muscle went, to get a ladder and some bait in order to save Chance and Ames.
"Now tell me again just how bad my diplomatic conversation strategy was", Ames smirked at Chance.
Ten minutes later they were all sitting in the weapon smuggler's air conditioned atrium. Winston and Guerrero had been brought in, too. Guerrero was sporting a black eye, but other than that they were unharmed. The thug's personal nurse was tending to Chance's injuries under Ames' watchful eyes and they were sipping at scotch on the rocks. A maid brought hors d'oeuvre which Winston eyed with great suspicion and Guerrero worked his way through with remarkable effectiveness.
"So I gather you don't mind us taking an interest in the mummy?", Chance began.
"My men are packing it for you while we're talking. You couldn't do me a bigger favor than transporting that cursed thing as far away from me as possible. Ever since I bought it, it brought me nothing but trouble – business is down, the government is snooping around in my tax paying habits, this is my third hacienda within six months, lost the first two to wood worms and tropical storms. Take it away from me!" The smuggler was practically pleading. "Today. I'll pay you!"
"15.000 for each of us. Plus expenses", Guerrero said.
Winston gave him a stern look.
"What? You've got to seize opportunities when they present themselves, dude. Rule number one in business. Remember that coach Ilsa hired a while ago?"
The smuggler's nurse wasn't only rather attractive (Ames wondered if the short skirt was workwear, required by her employer, or strategy, aiming at one day becoming more than just a nurse), she was also quite competent. "With these kind of injuries you shouldn't handle that dreadful thing", she advised Chance. "You should rest your shoulder. The wound on your leg isn't to be taken lightly either."
"Don't worry, we'll just get it out of here and hand it to the next museum. Piece of cake."