33 |

Bedford Park, New York City

 

Fida sat in a corner booth and horribly failed at suppressing his grin as his wallet, bulging with cash for the first time in his life, dug itself into his bony ass.

He reveled in the discomfort.

Just with the buy-ins deposited, he was already richer than most in his homeland, but this was only the tip of the iceberg.

When this is done, I’m going north to see an actual iceberg, and never feel the heat of the desert again.

He frowned. After over a decade of living in New York City, he had experienced every form of weather he could imagine, including the shock of a cold winter, and hated to admit it to himself, but he did miss the heat of his homeland. While the winters were fun the first few times, they quickly became annoying and something he hated after time.

Now I can afford to head south to avoid them.

He grunted, taking a sip of his upscale coffee, no expense spared this time, his regular barista asking him if he had won the lottery.

In a sense, he had.

But he had to keep his mouth shut in this neighborhood. Flashing Benjamins could mean a knife in the gut or a bullet to the back of the head.

Just like back home.

He opened his backpack, removing the bottles of water piled on top, then pulled out his laptop. He returned the bottles to his pack, remembering when he had first arrived here from the wilds of his meager existence, and how he had marveled at the tap in his apartment that had an endless supply of clean, cool water. It had been one of the most fascinating and unexpected things he had discovered in his new home.

There’s something to be said about never being thirsty.

And he was rarely hungry. If he budgeted wisely, he was well fed, though sometimes, near the end of the month, things turned a little meager in quality. He always found it ridiculous that it was more expensive to eat healthy in America, than it was to eat junk food.

One dollar hamburgers, six dollar salads.

He took another sip of his coffee as his laptop booted up, then positioned the screen so no one could see what he was doing.

Then took a bite of his muffin, something he hadn’t had in months, treats like this a luxury he could ill afford.

He moaned aloud, eliciting giggles from the teenage girls at the next booth. He flushed, slouching in his seat as he logged in to the auction site.

His heart skipped a beat at the messages waiting from those who had already paid, demanding more concrete details otherwise there’d be consequences.

This was a mistake.

He shifted in his seat, the bulge of a thousand dollars in cash reminding him of why he was doing this, and why he couldn’t possibly stop.

Cash.

Money.

Enough to change his life.

He could walk away now. They’d never find him. But he wanted more. He wanted the American dream. He wanted to be rich, to never worry about going hungry or cold again, to never thirst for anything.

He wanted it all, the Ark be damned.

What did it matter? It was a forgotten relic from a forgotten time. His group’s mandate was to destroy it should its discovery not be contained, so if it were okay to destroy it for those reasons, why shouldn’t he be able to profit from it, then allow his brethren to destroy it when those who won the bid came to collect? All he was doing was ending millennia of waiting.

He posted a new message for those who had met the buy-in, uploading a redacted copy of the invoices they had discovered in the professors’ home.

 

The item is as you suspected. The Ark of the Covenant. Note the measurements for the containment system. The people hired are experts in preserving ancient artifacts. The winning bidder will get their names, and their last known location. Find them, and you will find the Ark. Deposit USD 100,000 to qualify within the next four hours.

 

His eyes bulged as within minutes, every single bidder had paid the second deposit. He was now a millionaire, and again could walk away.

But now he wanted it all.

He posted another message.

 

Deposits received. Bidding starts at USD 1,000,000 and ends in 4 hours.

 

He sat back and closed his eyes, dreaming of the millions he would have before the day was out.