either rain or the cold. The end of Jack’s rope wound around the front seat of the jeep, with Templeton sending another rope around the vehicle’s front tire. Both lines had been tied in such a way that Jack could not reach the end of either with any hope of untying them. Yet Templeton had laid out a sleeping bag for Jack and had taken great pains to make sure his captive was comfortable.
And so, once again, Jack did what he was good at: he settled in and waited.
Nothing he’d experienced thus far could equal the events from a few years ago. After running through that gauntlet, he suspected there was little that could unsettle him. It helped of course that what he and Espy had gone through had clarified much for him—had helped him weigh things of true importance against things that were less so. He hated to reduce things to the metaphysical, but there it was.
Thinking about Esperanza served to distract him, to pull his thoughts from his present surroundings. He wondered what, if anything, she’d done when he failed to check in. He was, by his count, at least three days past the time when he should have concluded his business in London and then caught a plane back to Caracas. He couldn’t help the slight smile he wore at the thought that his multiple past failures at keeping a schedule could now come back to haunt him. Knowing Esperanza as he did, he thought there was just as much chance that she’d wash her hands of him completely as there was that she’d search for him. In truth, were he in her position, Jack thought it unlikely he’d search for himself.
Even as he thought these things, he found the smile still rooted.
“What has you in such good spirits?” Templeton asked.
His captor had rolled out his bag ten feet from Jack, a few feet past where Jack’s bonds would have let him advance.
“Just thinking about someone,” Jack said.
He saw Templeton nod. The man was on his back, hands laced behind his head, watching the stars as if they were poised to reveal some valuable truth to him. The Englishman didn’t say anything right away, and Jack, who had ceased asking questions that wouldn’t be answered, settled back and waited—either for sleep or a continuance of the conversation. After several moments, Templeton revealed his desire to extend the exchange.
“Who is she?”
“What makes you think she’s a she?” Jack said.
“Because when a man is tied to a jeep on the edge of an African desert, I doubt very much that he would be thinking about anything else.”
While Jack had to concede the point, he wasn’t about to give the Englishman more information than the man had shown himself willing to return.
“Help me out here, Martin,” Jack said. “Why are you doing this to me? I mean, if you want to hear me say I’m sorry for trying to snatch the artifact right out from under you, then I’ll say it. I was wrong for trying to take it.”
He tried to gauge if his words had any effect on Templeton, but the man’s expression had not changed.
“I don’t get it,” he said after a while. “You have what you want, and from what I can tell, the large man you knocked unconscious isn’t following you. So why do you need me?”
“I studied archaeology at Oxford,” Templeton said quietly.
“I taught a few classes there,” Jack remarked.
“I know. Right before Egypt—before your brother died.”
A few years ago that kind of statement would have done a number on Jack’s psyche. It was yet another testament to the strength granted by experience, as well as by the God Jack was now firmly convinced had orchestrated it all.
“Why am I here, Martin?”
The question was answered by silence, and after waiting for the Englishman to break it, Jack closed his eyes. He had just started to surrender to sleep when Templeton finally spoke.
“What happened in Australia?” he asked.
Jack couldn’t process the question right away, but it wasn’t because it was entirely unexpected. Rather, the query startled him because it felt as if Templeton was intruding on a dream Jack hadn’t shared with anyone. It was like the Englishman had invaded his thoughts.
“I’ve been in Australia on several occasions,” Jack said. “It’s a great country. Have you ever been to Bondi?”
Templeton smiled. “Three years ago you were teaching at Evanston University. A month later you’re arrested in Australia after a double murder.” Templeton took his eyes off