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Uriah “Bones” Bonebrake unfolded himself from the shotgun seat of the beige Fiat 500L, and stretched his long limbs. At just a hair over six-feet-five-inches tall, it seemed impossible that he had ever been able to fit inside the tiny vehicle in the first place. He arched his back with an audible crack and gave an exaggerated sigh of relief, then turned a slow circle as if surveying the pastoral landscape.
There wasn’t much to see. The Fiat was parked on the side of a narrow, poorly maintained country road, right beside a square tower-like structure—two stories high, but only about ten feet on each side. It was a transformer station, if the web of power lines sprouting from it and radiating out in every direction was any indication. A few farmhouses lay scattered here and there across the undulating hills. About a hundred yards behind them stood a tiny chapel, barely bigger than a phone booth, topped with the distinctive domed cupola common to the Eastern Orthodox church. The gray sky, which seemed to threaten rain, but couldn’t quite commit to it, lent an aura of melancholy to the place, which Bones did not fail to pick up on.
“This place reminds me of where I grew up,” he remarked as the car’s other two occupants emerged. “And not in a good way. How far is it to Paris?”
“Paris?” asked Corey Dean. Behind a droop of thinning red-hair, his forehead wrinkled in earnest consternation. He turned a few degrees until he was facing northwest and pointed.
“It’s about a thousand miles in that direction.” He shook his head. “I thought Native Americans were supposed to have an infallible sense of direction.”
“I am far from the lands of my ancestors,” Bones replied, his already deep voice lowering an octave, affecting grave solemnity. He caught the eye of the man who had just gotten out on the opposite side of the vehicle—his friend and business partner, Dane Maddock—and winked. “A thousand miles? That can’t be right. I thought Bulgaria and France were neighbors?”
“You’re thinking of Belgium,” replied Corey. “They’re totally different countries. Belgium is like France’s version of Canada. Bulgaria is in the Balkans— ”
“I thought Canada was France’s version of Canada,” Bones cut in.
“He’s just messing with you, Corey,” Maddock said. “He knows exactly where we are. We’ve been here before.” He paused a moment, searched his memories, and then amended, “Well, not here exactly, but hereabouts.”
It was entirely possible that he and Bones had passed through Bulgaria during their long stint as Navy SEALs, but if so, it had been only a stopover during transit—probably to neighboring Bosnia-Herzegovina, where they had hunted Serbian war criminals.
That seemed a lifetime ago, and a lot had happened since then.
Maddock and Bones weren’t SEALs anymore. The two men had ended their military careers not long after the Balkan assignment, and had gone on to pursue their dream of being treasure hunters, specializing in marine recovery.
They were unlikely friends. Maddock was methodical, straitlaced, even, admittedly, a bit uptight. Bones was loud and obnoxious, irreverent, often politically incorrect, especially when it came to deprecating his Cherokee heritage. They had first met during the initial phase of SEAL training, and had immediately butted heads, even coming to blows at one point. But over the years, through too many adventures to count, they had come to realize that their differences were what made them such an effective team.
Bones looked around again. “I wonder where Max is? He made it sound like this was a big production. This place should be crawling with people. I figured he’d at least have an RV.”
“Maybe they cancelled the shoot on account of the weather,” Corey ventured.
Bones snorted derisively. “What weather? This is nothing.”
“Gotta agree with Bones,” Maddock said, waving a hand through the damp air. “I don’t think this could charitably be called drizzle.”
Corey however stood his ground. “Shows what you know. It’s not the rain that’s a problem. It’s the light. Or more accurately, the lack of it. When it’s this dark, contrast sucks and the shots look all grainy.”
It was no surprise that Corey had zeroed in on the technical detail. Maddock’s treasure-hunting crew mostly comprised former military veterans, but Corey was the exception. He’d never served in the military, and fairly hated the idea of any kind of violence, save perhaps for the simulated variety found in video games. A late addition to the team, he was their resident expert on all things electronic and high-tech, which included maintenance and operation of their video equipment.
“Point to Corey,” Maddock admitted.
Bones however shook his head. “Do you even watch Max’s show?”
Max was Max Riddle, host of the cable television documentary series Maximum Mysteries, which purported to investigate paranormal phenomena, legendary monsters and alien conspiracies—the crazier, the better. They had met Max a few months earlier in Luxor, Egypt, where he was filming a segment for his show concerning a decoration in a temple which seemed to depict what looked suspiciously like an incandescent light bulb, leading many to believe that the ancient Egyptians had possessed advanced technology, presumably given to them by aliens. Their encounter had proven fortuitous for Riddle. His cameras had been rolling when Maddock and Bones revealed their discovery of a previously unknown tomb in the Valley of the Kings, and his ratings hadn’t suffered.
The invitation to join him for the filming of a new episode in Bulgaria—all expenses paid by the Bulgarian Board of Tourism—was presumably Riddle’s way of saying “thank you.” Upon arrival in the capital city—Sofia—they had immediately picked up the Fiat from the rental counter. The rental reservation, also courtesy of the tourism board, had clearly been made by someone unaware of Bones’ size, and he hadn’t exactly suffered in silence during the forty-five-minute drive into the hinterlands.
Bulgaria seemed like an odd destination for Riddle. Maddock knew almost nothing about the country, other than that it had been part of the Communist Eastern Bloc for most of his lifetime. When he thought of it at all, which was not often, he lumped it together with the other Balkan states. Even a cursory review of the Wikipedia entry for Bulgaria and its capital offered little to distinguish the eastern European nation, despite the fact that it had been continuously occupied for thousands of years, and as such, had a rich and storied history.
Maybe that was the problem. With so much history, piled up in layers, it was hard to know where to look. A Google search of “places to see in Sofia” yielded up a long list of churches and former churches repurposed into museums, a few old Roman ruins, including a public bath—evidently there were mineral hot springs running under the city—and not much else. Ordinarily, Maddock could happily lose himself in a museum, but usually he did so with some sense of purpose—a mystery that needed solving, a clue to hidden treasure that needed to be revealed.
He had no idea what he was doing in Bulgaria, aside from the fact that Max Riddle had invited them.
Maddock had seen a few episodes of Riddle’s show, particularly the one where he showed off the discovery in Egypt, but he wasn’t exactly a fan. Not like Bones, who ate up the crazy cryptid-UFO-conspiracy stuff like it was ice cream. Bones was not about to let Maddock refuse the invitation, especially not if it presented a chance to investigate something kooky.
Or be on TV again.
“He loves being out in nasty weather,” Bones went on. “It makes him look rugged.”
Maddock fought the urge to roll his eyes. The opportunity to make further comment was lost as a vehicle—a white Mercedes M-Class—appeared from around the bend to the south. The SUV slowed as it approached, pulling off the road to park behind the Fiat. Through the water-spotted windshield, Maddock could just make out the familiar grinning visage of Max Riddle in the passenger seat.
“Hellooooo,” Bones said, and started forward as the doors on either side of the vehicle swung open. “Dibs.”
Maddock glanced over at his friend, a little surprised by Bones’ uncharacteristic enthusiasm. “I know you’ve got a bro crush on Max,” he muttered, “but do you have to be so obvious about it?”
“Max who?” Bones said, making a beeline for the driver’s side of the vehicle. He caught hold of the door handle, holding it as if he were a doorman or valet, waiting to assist the driver. Maddock caught a flash of long blonde hair and pale skin as the person slipped from behind the wheel to disappear behind Bones’ bulk.
“Oh,” was all Maddock could say.
Riddle, seemingly oblivious to what was happening on the opposite side of the vehicle, advanced toward Maddock. “Dane! Glad you could make it. I guess my directions didn’t lead you astray.”
Maddock shook the other man’s hand. “We thought maybe they had. Doesn’t seem to be much happening here.”
“Oh, there’s a lot more going on here than meets the eye.” Riddle winked. “Under the surface, so to speak.”
Before Maddock could inquire further regarding the cryptic clichés, Riddle spoke again. “But where are my manners? Let me introduce you to someone.” He turned and gestured toward the driver just as Bones stepped out of the way.
Maddock already knew two things about the driver—she was female, and she was gorgeous. The former assumption was based on the brief glimpse he had caught of her as she got out of the vehicle. The latter, he deduced from the intensity of Bones’ reaction.
The big man was drawn to good-looking women like... Well, like a moth to a flame. Unlike the proverbial moth, Bones didn’t always get burned, though he seemed incapable of sustaining a relationship longer than a few months. Those failures didn’t seem to faze Bones. Or slow him down.
When Bones had zeroed in on the blonde behind the wheel, Maddock had known that she would be attractive, but when he finally got a look at her, he knew that description was inadequate. She was very pretty, but there was an aura of sweetness and sincerity about her that immediately made Maddock want to shield her from Bones’ persistent overtures.
“Guys,” Riddle went on, “This is Slava Kostadinova. She works for the National Board of Tourism. She made all of this possible. Slava, this is Dane Maddock, Bones Bonebrake, and...” He hesitated, looking uncertainly at Corey for a moment. “I’m sorry Dane, I don’t think I’ve actually met your plus one.”
Corey seemed a little startled at being the focus of attention. His gaze went from Riddle to Slava, his face reddening in embarrassment and timidity.
Bones laughed. “Dude. Breathe.”
“This is Corey Dean,” Maddock said. “Your invitation mentioned bringing along someone who’s tech-savvy. Corey is the best.”
Corey seemed to recover his wits. He nodded and took a step forward, but then hesitated again, as if unsure whether to approach Riddle or Slava. He decided instead to simply stay put. He gave a sheepish wave, and then cleared his throat. “I love your show.” His eyes went to Riddle. “Your show, I mean.” He turned to Slava. “I don’t know if you have a show.”
“If you do,” Bones put in, “I’d watch. Is it on streaming? Maybe you and me can Netflix and chill.”
Maddock braced himself. Shots fired, he thought.
When Bones uttered one of his horrible pick-up lines, the reaction was rarely ambiguous. Either the woman on the receiving end would reject him with extreme prejudice, or respond in kind with her own brand of flirtatious banter.
Slava did neither. Instead, she offered the most innocent smile Maddock had ever seen, and spoke. “No, I don’t have a show. Not yet. But Max says he is going to make me a star.”
She looked over at Max and winked. Her English was clear, but flavored with a distinctive Slavic accent. After a moment, she turned her attention to Corey of all people.
“You know that Bulgaria is the new high-tech capital of the Balkans. Sofia, our capital city, is the Silicon Valley of Eastern Europe.”
Corey reddened again, but then broke into a beaming smile. “I did know that actually. I was reading about some of the tech start-ups that are breaking out here. And block-chain is really taking off here, too.”
“Uh, oh,” Bones muttered to Maddock. “Nerdgasm alert.”
Maddock couldn’t help but grin. “Jealous?”
“Who me? Nah. She’s got future trophy wife written all over her.”
“Never stopped you before.”
Bones laughed. “Won’t stop me now, either.”
Maddock decided to intervene before either of his friends could embarrass themselves further. “Max, where’s your crew? Or is the shoot happening somewhere else?”
Riddle nodded smoothly, like a used-car salesman. “Right. So, funny story about that.”
Maddock glanced over at Bones, who met his gaze, mirroring his suspicions. The TV host was up to something.
“I’ll explain everything,” Riddle went on. “First, let me show you something.”
Without waiting for a reply, he turned away and headed to the rear of the SUV where he opened the cargo hatch. “Check this out. Corey... It’s Corey, right? You’re going to love this.”
Slava flashed her signature winning smile and then headed back to join Riddle. Corey moved immediately to follow. Maddock and Bones did so as well, but with the kind of wariness they typically reserved for crossing minefields.
Corey, arriving ahead of them, let out an appreciative whistle. “Is that what I think it is?”
“If you think it’s a DJI Inspire 2 with 6K RAW video and a CineCore 2.1 imaging processor... then, yeah, that’s exactly what it is.”
“Cool.” Corey sounded like someone in the grip of a religious experience. “Can I... Touch it?”
“Touch it?” Riddle laughed. “Corey, my man, how would you like to fly it?”
Maddock rounded the corner and looked over Corey’s shoulder. The focus of Corey’s attention looked like a robotic spider. Maddock immediately recognized it as a quad-copter camera drone—a scaled up version of the one Corey sometimes used when conducting aerial surveys of potential dive sites. In addition to the drone, which took up nearly half of the cargo area, there were several plastic totes. One of them was stuffed with several coils of rope. Another was filled with various pieces of electronic hardware, including several GoPro cameras and battery packs.
“Geez,” Bones muttered, joining the group. “I was gonna tell you two to get a room, but after looking at all this stuff, I’m afraid of what you might do.”
Maddock’s instincts tingled with suspicion. “I’m reminded of an old saying, ‘Beware basic cable television personalities bearing gifts.’”
Riddle affected mock outrage. “Basic? You wound me, Dane.”
Maddock gestured at the equipment. “GoPros. Camera drones. This isn’t production equipment. What’s going on here?”
“Actually, they’ve filmed several major motion pictures with that drone. It’s state of the art.”
“Cut the crap, Max. You invited us here to watch you film your show. Where’s your crew?” He stopped as the answer dawned. “We’re your crew.”
Max raised his hands in a “slow down” gesture. “Let me explain.”
Maddock exchanged a glance with Bones. To Maddock’s dismay, the big man looked unperturbed by Riddle’s conspicuous failure to refute the charge.
Riddle took a breath, then blew it out. “Okay, so you remember Egypt? That show was pure magic, and it was all because of you guys. The raw video you shot with that remote of yours? It was compelling.”
“We weren’t in Egypt for your show, Max. The fact that we ran into you was just a coincidence.” One I’m beginning to regret, Maddock thought, but didn’t say aloud.
“Oh, I get that. But I mean, that’s the whole point. I mean, we do phone video and camera stuff trying to get that look, but it still feels produced. Know what I mean?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “So then I got this crazy idea. What if, instead of trying to get my producers to recreate what you guys did, how about I just let you guys do what you do?”
“So you want us in your show,” Bones said. He shrugged. “I’m in. We should probably keep Maddock behind the camera, though. Dude’s got a great face for radio, if you know what I mean.”
“We’re not going to be on either side of the camera,” Maddock said, emphatically. “This isn’t what we do, Max. We aren’t TV personalities, and we aren’t professional filmmakers.”
“But don’t you see? That’s the hook. You aren’t personalities. You’re the real deal.”
Before Maddock could protest again, Bones leaned close. “Dude, let’s hear him out. This could be fun.”
“Seconded,” Corey put in, his gaze still fixed on the quad-copter drone.
Maddock knew his friends were firmly under Riddle’s spell, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that the man wasn’t being entirely honest with them. “If we do this...” He shook his head. “What’s in it for us? And don’t say ‘exposure.’ Exposure doesn’t pay the bills.”
“You’ll get a percentage.”
“A percentage?” Maddock’s Spidey-sense tingled again. “No offense, Max, but maybe we should be talking to someone at the network.”
Riddle pursed his lips together. “We aren’t really at the network stage with this.”
“Not at the network stage?” The tingle was now a persistent alarm. “What does that mean? Is this for your show, or isn’t it?”
Riddle equivocated. “There isn’t really a show right now.”
“Dude, what are you talking about?” Bones said. “They do a fricking marathon every weekend.”
“Right. The old seasons will continue to run for a couple more years. But we’re going to shop this idea around. What we’re doing here is mostly a proof of concept, though I’m hoping we’ll get enough to cut it into a pilot.”
Bones stiffened and put his fists on his hips in a defiant pose. “Are you saying Maximum Mysteries got the axe? How is that possible? You told us the Egypt show was ratings gold.”
Riddle grimaced. “It was. Unfortunately, it kind of raised the bar. The network wanted more of that, but they weren’t willing to give me the budget to make it happen.”
“Did you quit, or did they fire you?” Maddock asked.
Riddle shrugged. “I think of it as a conscious uncoupling.”
“And now you’re trying to launch a new show, only instead of a small budget, you’ve got zilch. And you figured we’d work cheap.”
Slava chose this moment to speak up. “Mr. Maddock, the Board of Tourism is sponsoring this expedition. We are very excited that Mr. Riddle has chosen to launch his new series here in Bulgaria.” She flashed her dazzling smile again. “I know this wasn’t what you were expecting, but please, won’t you give him a chance? The Board is covering all your expenses while you are here. What have you got to lose?”
Maddock could think of several things—foremost of which were his time and sanity—but Slava’s smile disarmed him.
“It sucks that they cancelled the show,” Bones muttered, sounding truly dejected. He glanced over at Maddock, then back to Riddle. “You think we can help get you back on the air?”
“We’re looking at all our options.”
Maddock didn’t want to know what that might mean. He shook his head. “All right, Max. Fine. We’re here. What exactly is your plan?”
Riddle let out an audible sigh of relief, nodded gratefully in Slava’s direction, and then clapped his hands together. “You know what, we should be getting this on video. I’ll have to explain it all anyway.” He turned to Corey. “It’s probably too wet to fly the drone out here, but we can use it as a handheld. You know how to do that?”
Corey had already picked up the device and started pushing buttons. After a few seconds, he flashed a thumbs-up and pointed the drone’s camera at Riddle.
“Great. Just point the camera at me. The computer will keep me in focus?”
“Do I need to say ‘action’ or anything?”
“If you’d like.”
“Then... Action!”