Chapter 5 #2
“And this is Ahmed Karim, our local guide and cultural liaison.” A man in his thirties with an easy smile and traditional dress extends his hand. “He knows the desert better than anyone and will be invaluable for logistics and local knowledge.”
“Hello,” Ahmed greets me warmly. “Welcome to Jumayah.”
“Thank you,” I respond. “I’m so grateful to have a local expert. I’ve worked in the region but never specifically in Jumayah.”
“Then you’re in for a treat. We have layers of history here that most people don’t even know about.”
We settle around the table, and waiters bring out hummus, baba ghanoush, falafel, fresh pita.
The conversation flows easily. Edmond and Dr. Akkhad have worked together before, on a dig in Peru.
Ahmed shares stories about growing up in Jumayah City and learning the desert from his father and grandfather.
“So when do we head out?” Edmond asks, reaching for more pita.
“Tomorrow,” Calvin says from the head of the table. “We leave at dawn.”
Everyone glances at him. It’s the first time he’s really contributed to the conversation, and his tone is clipped. Professional. But there’s an edge to it.
“Dawn?” Dr. Akkhad raises an eyebrow. “That’s early.”
“We have a lot of ground to cover, and we’re losing daylight every day we delay.”
“Fair enough,” Edmond says agreeably, but I catch the look he exchanges with Dr. Akkhad.
“The camp is already set up,” Calvin continues.
“Ahmed supervised the installation last week. We’ll have tents, a cooking setup, sanitation facilities, and a generator for electricity.
It’s remote but equipped. The rest of the team—the technicians and staff to keep the camp running—are already there. They set everything up today.”
“How remote are we talking?” I ask.
“Four hours from the city by car. No cell service. Satellite phone only.” Calvin pulls up a map on his tablet, passing it around the table. “Here’s the site.”
“Just us and the sand,” Ahmed says with a grin.
“And potentially the most significant archaeological find in the region in decades,” Calvin adds—and there it is again, that intensity, that barely controlled urgency.
The table goes quiet.
“No pressure,” Edmond jokes weakly.
“There is pressure,” Calvin says, not joking at all. “This project has significant funding behind it. We have six months to produce results. I expect everyone to take that seriously.”
I set down my fork carefully. “Mr. Aarons, I think I speak for everyone when I say we’re all professionals. We understand the stakes. But archaeology doesn’t work on a strict timeline. We find what we find when we find it.”
“I’m aware of how archaeology works, Dr. Halford.” His voice is cool. “I’m simply setting expectations.”
The friendly rapport that had been building around the table evaporates. Edmond suddenly looks very interested in his hummus. Ahmed shifts uncomfortably. I can feel the mood plummeting.
Layla clears her throat. “I believe what Calvin means is that we’re all excited to get started. And yes, there’s pressure—there’s always pressure on digs, especially well-funded ones. But we’re a team. We’ll support each other and do our best work. Right?”
I look directly at Calvin, raising my eyebrows slightly.
He pauses, then nods. “Yes. Of course. I apologize if I came across as harsh. I’m… invested in this project.”
“We can tell,” Edmond says, and there’s something kind in his voice. “That’s good. Passion drives discovery.”
The tension eases slightly, and conversation resumes, though more subdued than before.
I find myself watching Calvin throughout dinner. He participates minimally, his mind clearly elsewhere. He checks his phone constantly. Answers questions in clipped sentences. Several times I catch him staring into the middle distance, his jaw clenched.
He’s scared, I realize. Terrified, actually. Of failure. Of disappointment. Of something.
It makes him seem less like a cold billionaire and more like… a person. A person carrying something heavy.
By the time dinner ends, everyone is talking about getting rest for tomorrow’s early start. We say our goodnights, and I head toward the elevator.
“Dr. Halford?”
I turn. Calvin is standing by the restaurant entrance, backlit by the warm interior lights.
“I’m sorry,” he says, taking me by surprise.
“We’re in this together,” I remind him. “All of us. You don’t have to carry it alone. The only reason anyone would go into the desert and do something like this is because they’re obsessed with the job.”
His face softens. “And you’re obsessed with the job.”
“Absolutely,” I say, staring him down.
“Get some rest,” he says. “Tomorrow starts early.”
“You too.”
As the elevator doors close, I catch one last glimpse of him standing there in the lobby, shoulders tense, the weight of the world clearly pressing down. And despite my better judgment, despite all my warnings to myself, I feel something shift in my chest.
Concern. Curiosity. And, yes, maybe a little bit of attraction I really shouldn’t be feeling.