Chapter Twenty-Five #2
“Pretty much,” Shane replied. “I pop in here and there. The other partners run the gyms day-to-day, and the franchises all have operations managers. I hired a personal assistant to help me keep it all straight. Good guy. Great with numbers.”
“And now you’re living the high life,” Nate observed.
“Pretty much. After Yemen I just needed a new beginning, you know?”
“Yeah, I do,” Nate said as he lifted his mojito. “To new beginnings.” The three men toasted.
“Yeah, things are great,” Shane said. He drummed his fingers on the table and looked out longingly at the yacht. “Just fucking great,” he muttered absently.
“But?” Wally asked. They both sensed the but.
Shane stared out at the sea and sighed in frustration.
“But I’m fucking bored!” he exclaimed, and Nate smiled.
“I have plenty of money. I have the boat. I own a place up in Tampa and one out in Vegas. Bought some land that I set up a range on. I used to fight, and then I used to do war. Now I’m a fucking playboy.
Don’t get me wrong. It’s fun, but it’s just not the same. You know what I mean?”
Nate knew exactly what he meant. He’d enjoyed his academic studies over the last few years and had the chance to study things that interested him.
He’d traveled and gone on several archaeological digs for his fieldwork studies.
But he hadn’t really felt alive again until someone had tried to kill him in his hotel room in Germany.
It had awoken something inside him, something he thought had been buried for good.
And he couldn’t really explain it, but he was enjoying every minute of it.
“I know exactly what you mean,” Nate said, verbalizing his thoughts. They were all silent for a minute and Shane grabbed a waiter by the sleeve as he passed.
“Three more mojitos, and keep them coming.” He turned back to his friends. “It’s damned good to see you guys.”
“You too, brother,” Nate replied.
“Cheers, mate,” Wally added.
They all went silent again before Shane finally spoke up. “Alright, then,” he started. “You said you had something important to discuss?”
Nate began to tell his story precisely as he had told Wally, but included the recent events that had occurred in Germany.
He told him about what Ahmed had said that night all those years ago about the lost city of Ubar.
He discussed his years of research and his failed dissertation pitch.
He talked about what he found in the notes of Bertram Thomas and St. John Philby and how and why they were significant.
Then he told him about the underground water sources in the desert, the lead that Richter was supposed to provide, and the literal dead end of that particular line of effort.
Shane furrowed his brow but said nothing as Nate described the attack in his hotel room and how they had found Richter dead in his house.
He smiled when he heard about their break-in at the United Nations compound and the email to Anastasia, then grew more solemn as he learned that the girl’s father was missing.
Nate explained to him how he had tied it all together, the missing pieces he was looking to find, and how they were headed to Cairo to meet with Ahmed and get the satellite photos.
And more importantly, to stop Anastasia from possibly being murdered and hopefully acquire the research that was sent to her by her father.
Lastly, Nate detailed his loose plan for launching an expedition to find the city by traveling through Yemen.
When he was done, he waited pensively for Shane’s reaction.
“Tell him he’s crazy,” Wally said after several seconds. “Tell him this is a bonkers idea.”
After a long moment, Shane spoke.
“So, this is some kind of… desert heist?”
“No,” Nate said. “That would be ridiculous. It’s more of a… it’s…” Nate looked at Wally and then back at Shane as he thought about it. “Fuck it. Yeah, it’s a desert heist.”
Shane took a moment to reflect, before answering, “I fucking love it!”
“What?” Wally exclaimed. “You can’t be serious!”
Nate just smiled.
“Yeah, man, sounds like a badass trip. A little technical, kinda suicide-y, but fucking badass.”
“Unreal.” Wally threw his hands up in frustration and chugged his mojito.
“Thanks,” Nate said. “It needs a little refining, though. And a benefactor.”
“Which is why you came to me, huh?” Shane asked, raising his eyebrows in mock suspicion. While he could act like a meathead at times, Shane was extremely intelligent, as demonstrated by his successful business enterprises.
“Well, your resources are part of the reason,” he admitted.
“How big a part?”
“Let’s say a third?”
“Alright,” Shane agreed, laughing. “And the other two-thirds?”
“Well, you were probably the best 18 Charlie I’ve ever known,” he said, referring to the military occupational specialty of a Special Forces Engineer Sergeant.
“Your ability to be greasy, acquire stuff, move things, and make shit happen is second to none. I could use some of that, and something tells me you still have some connections in the Middle East.”
“You’re not wrong there,” he admitted. “And the last part?”
“I need you,” Nate said earnestly. “If I’m going back to that place, I need guys I can trust. Wally and I are just two people. I need someone else who I know is good in a fight and can help watch my back. Someone I trust completely.”
Shane thought about it for a minute, looking back out to sea and at his yacht. It may have been the light from the setting sun, or the mojitos, but it appeared that his eyes were a little misty. After a few moments of reflection, he whipped his head back around and looked at his two friends.
“Fuck it. I’m in.”
“Really?” Nate and Wally asked at the same time, though with much different tones.
“Am I the only one who thinks this is a bad idea?” Wally asked no one in particular, which was fine since no one acknowledged him anyway.
“There’s just one thing,” Shane said. “The three of us aren’t going to be enough. We need another gun. And it needs to be a hard motherfucker. A real killer.”
Nate was silent.
“You want me to go with you to ask him?” Shane asked.
“No,” Nate said finally. “This is something I need to do on my own.”