ALEX HUNT and The Golden Urn_An Archaeological Adventure Thriller

by Urcelia Teixeira

  “It’s been a long day, Alex. Maybe you just need to rest. We’ll be safe here tonight. I’ll sleep with one eye open.”

  Alex bit her thumb nail while Sam continued his attempt to reassure her.

  “We’ll head back to the hotel tomorrow, and then we can carry on with our mission to find the Golden Urn, okay? Just sit outside here for a bit and try to relax.“

  Alex nodded as she watched Sam grab a towel and head for the shower. She looked back with wariness at Ollie where he was still busy preparing the bear stew in the kitchen. Her gut told her she wasn’t wrong. Something doesn’t quite sit right with this guy. He was all Aussie and happy go lucky. A bloody ball of cheer, but her instincts have never been wrong. Ollie might fool Sam, but not her.

  When they finally sat down for dinner, her suspicions were further piqued when she accidentally dropped her fork under her chair. She bent down to pick it up, and her eye caught a revolver taped to the bottom of the table where Ollie sat. Sam noticed something in her eyes as she shuffled back into her seat but didn’t comment.

  “Tuck in Sheila. Once you taste bear-meat, you’ll never go back to lamb. With any luck his last meal was berries.”

  “I’m not hungry, thanks, and please, call me Alex.” She was starving, in truth, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction, especially because he kept calling her Sheila!

  Sam cleared his throat, hinting for her not to be rude and to eat something; only to get a kick in the shin in return, which made him smile.

  “So, Ollie. How long have you been living here?” Alex ventured inviting another glare from Sam.

  “Not long enough, Sheila,” irritating her on purpose. “I love it out here. As long as I mind my own business and stay out of trouble.”

  “So you’re living here on your own then?” ignoring his obvious temptation to further crawl under her skin. She was far more focused on figuring out who he was and why he didn’t give her a straight answer.

  “Indeed. How about some rice at least, huh? After a day like today surely you must be hungry? Come on. I promise I didn't poison it.”

  Alex sensed he was trying to change the topic and evade her questions.

  “I wouldn’t mind some more, thanks, Ollie,” Sam responded in an attempt to ease the tension around the dinner table. “You’re right. This stew is like nothing I’ve ever tasted.”

  Alex wasn’t going to let up her inquiry and make small talk over the damn stew.

  “Why do you need motion sensors around your house, and why did you say ‘the coast is clear’ when we arrived? Clear from who?”

  “Are you always so suspicious of everyone, Sheila? In case you haven’t noticed. We are in the middle of a jungle with wild animals all around us. I have snares set up all around my house, and the motion sensors act as an alarm if they managed to escape the traps somehow and come too close. Satisfied?”

  He didn’t wait for her to answer.

  “Now. It seems I’m not the only one that should come under interrogation. You never answered my question. What are the two of you doing out here?”

  Alex glanced at Sam across the table who tucked into the food like there was no tomorrow.

  “Not that it’s any of your business, really, but as I said earlier; we are archaeologists out here on an expedition.”

  “To find what? Archaeologists only come out here if they’re onto something. What are you looking to find? Perhaps I can be of some help.”

  “Oh, I seriously doubt that very much!” Alex sneered as she straightened her fork next to her plate.

  “The Golden Urn,” Sam answered in between two more bites, ignoring Alex’s angry stare in response.

  “Now what do you know? So you’re the pair they hired to find it? How lucky can I be? Well then, let me volunteer my services to help you catch the bloody buggers who stole it. I have some skills, and connections, that might be of worth to you, I reckon.”

  Ollie sat back in his chair and sported an arrogant smirk as he waited for Alex to answer with some snotty remark.

  “Do you now? And what skills are those?” she finally caved.

  “Well, for starters, I speak Mandarin fluently. I don’t suppose you do?”

  Bastard.

  “I speak French, and we’ve been able to get around just fine.”

  “French might help with the older generation, but if you’re relic hunting around here, you’d need to speak either Mandarin or Khmer. You would also have to go underground. The word on the street is that it was an inside job; possibly a black market operation. The Urn is worth a small fortune on the black market. If it does contain Buddha’s remains as they say, then it could have been taken by anyone. Vietnam, Thailand, China, Japan. Hell, even India. They’ve been fighting over the ownership for centuries.”

  “That’s if it were, in fact, the actual artifact they stole in the first place.” It was Alex’s turn to look smug.

  Her comment had precisely the effect she aimed it would have on Ollie as he immediately sat up and leaned forward.

  “What do you mean? You think it was a fake?”

  Sam had finally finished his second plate of food and joined the conversation.

  “Exactly. There are rumors that the temple had a counterfeit one on display all these years. The monks are up in arms about it.

  “Although we don’t know that for certain. It is possible, but there’s no proof of either at this stage,” Alex intervened.

  “So the Commissioner hired the two of you to hunt down the Urn and prove the stolen one’s authenticity. Interesting.” Ollie sat back in his chair again.

  Sam finally put his cutlery down and rubbed his full tummy with satisfaction before adding.

  “We have been following several leads over the past couple of weeks, and each one sent us on a wild goose chase. The last of which led us to believe we’d find the Urn in hidden tunnels belonging to a temple that was meant to lie on the other side of the waterfall. But there was no evidence of any temple ruins or tunnels anywhere. Alex almost died there today when the rope chafed through and broke.”

  “Crikey, Sheila. No wonder you’re pissed at the world. Wait. I’ve got just the thing for you.”

  Ollie bolted across the room like a firecracker on New Year’s eve to retrieve a glass jar of clear liquid and a couple of glasses from the kitchen cupboard.

  “This should calm those nerves of yours in no time.”

  Before Alex could object, she had a small tot glass in her hand, raised in the air.

  “Cheers Mates. To the Golden Urn.”

  The liquid might have looked like water but it most certainly wasn’t, and Alex found herself struggling to breathe much less talk.

  Ollie belted a laugh so loud he just about fell off his chair.

  “Well, Sheila. Now I know how to keep you quiet.”

  Chauvinistic pig!

  If Alex could speak — or move — she’d punch that grin straight off his face!

  “It’s a bit strong even for me, Ollie. What is it?” Sam came to her rescue still trying to get his own breath back.

  “My very own home-brewed Moonshine. Made from the finest ingredients right in my backyard, Mate. Puts hair on your chest, doesn’t it? Here, have another one,” filling Sam’s glass with another shot.

  Sam watched as the alcohol-induced spasm finally wore off enough for Alex to take a deep breath and gulp down a glass of water.

  “Ha! Water won’t help, Sheila. Eat a chunk of bread.”

  Alex had no choice but to give in to his suggestion, though it went against every fiber of her stubborn being. It helped. Somewhat. Enough for her to get up and gather the plates in a feeble attempt to try gain control of the situation and escape Ollie’s mocking gaze.

  Sam noticed Alex went from neutral to red to pale green.

  “Right then, Ollie. Dinner was delicious, but if you’d show us to your spare bedroom, I think we’d better call it a night,” taking the plates from Alex’s hands through to the kitchen.
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  “Down there to the left, Mate. We’ll hunt down your Cruiser in the morning. I’ll make a couple of calls to my connections and see what I can find out.”

  “We’d appreciate that, thank you,” Sam replied.

  “Uh, I don’t feel too good.” Alex groaned. Seconds later, she bolted for the porch and made it just in time to deposit her little stomach contents over the railing.

  “Firewater for a firecracker,” Ollie teased afterward as he launched a bucket of water over the railing onto the vomit.

  Asshole! Freaking Asshole! Alex shouted at him in her head before storming off to the bedroom. Battling to maintain her composure, she heard Sam politely thank Ollie for his hospitality before joining her in the room.

  “Why are you so angry with the guy, Alex? What has he done to make you dislike him so much?”

  “I don’t know, Sam, but something isn’t right. He’s not all he portrays to be. I know it. I want to get out of here, Sam. As soon as the sun comes up, we start walking. Do you hear me? This pig can shove his bear stew right up his friendly Aussie ass!“

  “Easy there tiger. I think you need to get some sleep. We’ll figure it all out in the morning.”

  Alex wasn’t going to let go of her convictions and Sam knew not to even try talk any sense into her. She was clearly traumatized and needed rest.

  Once satisfied she’d calmed down, he had his blanket and pillow down on the floor next to her bed and settled in for the night.

  Chapter Three

  Phnom Penh, Cambodia

  Somehow Ollie’s ‘connections’ came through for him the next morning. Their stolen vehicle wasn’t found, but they did manage to catch a ride with his associates — as Ollie put it — into the city. She had no idea who they were, and she didn’t care. All she wanted was to get away from Ollie and back to the safety of her clean hotel room in Phnom Penh.

  By the time they reached their hotel, the foyer was already bustling with guests on route to the dining area. Though the hotel wasn’t quite the five-star it claimed to be, it was nonetheless a relief to be back. At least it had running water and a decent shower and toilet.

  At the end of the poorly lit corridor leading to their adjoining rooms, Alex noticed the door to her room slightly ajar.

  “What the — ?”

  “Shh!” Sam hushed her. He pulled a gun from his waistband under his shirt and pushed her against the wall behind him.

  “Why the hell do you have a gun with you?” she whispered in surprise.

  “Ollie reckoned it might be a good idea; in the event of an eventuality. Stay here.”

  “No way. I’m coming with you.”

  Sam knew not to argue. His room door was also open. They walked along the wall of the corridor and stopped just outside Alex’s room to listen. It was quiet, so he slowly pushed the door open with the tip of the silver Smith & Wesson revolver’s barrel. Alex stayed behind him. There was no sign of anyone inside the small room or her bathroom.

  Behind them, the door to his room creaked.

  “Stay here, Alex!” Sam whispered in a stern voice as he hastened into his room and watched the figure of a man escaping over the balcony.

  “Hey! Stop!”

  But he was too late. The man jumped the two stories and escaped across the street.

  “Sam!” Alex shouted in a panicked voice from her room. Sam sprinted back to her room expecting to find an accomplice in the room with her, but there was no one. Just Alex standing in the corner staring at the room.

  The entire room had been turned upside down. Stuffing from the pillows lay scattered everywhere. The sheets and mattress were pulled off its base, and the tiny desk’s drawers lay broken on the floor next to it.

  “My room looks the same. The guy escaped through my window. Jumped both stories, would you believe it?”

  “You saw him? Would you be able to describe him to the police?”

  “No chance of that. He wore a mask, and besides, I only saw him from behind.”

  “What do you think he was looking for?” Alex asked.

  “I don’t know. Is anything missing?” replied Sam.

  “No. I don’t think so. I took all my notes and equipment with me. Even the camera’s SD Card. There was nothing here.”

  “We need to call the police, Alex. Might as well report our stolen vehicle.”

  “You’re right. I’m calling the Commissioner-General directly on this one. My gut tells me this was no random attempted burglary.”

  Mr. San Yeng-Pho and his small team of police officers arrived fifteen minutes later and met Sam and Alex in the lobby before going up to their rooms.

  “Miss Hunt, please accept my apologies on behalf of the king and our Prime Minister. This matter is unacceptable, and we will do everything in our power to catch the ones who did this. Have you found anything missing?”

  “Thank you, Mr. Yeng-Pho. No, nothing’s missing from our rooms. However, our vehicle got stolen yesterday. We were out at the Nei Kar Slab Falls following up on a piece of information and when we went back to the Cruiser it was gone. We spent the night in the jungle, and when we got back here this morning, we walked into this.”

  “Nei Kar Slab Falls? Miss Hunt, there’s a reason we refer to it as The Chasm of Death. It is a very dangerous place. Not only are the falls treacherous, but the area still carries landmines, and there are many, many wild animals roaming that part of the jungle. Some even believe it is cursed. I am very happy and relieved to know you escaped it unscathed, but please don’t go back there again.”

  Alex didn’t comment. The police commissioner’s plea was comforting, but not one she was likely to bend to as he clearly realized before he started up again. “Now, I will have my men comb the rooms for fingerprints and investigate if anyone heard or saw anything. As for your vehicle, Mr. Khen will take down all the details, and we will try to locate it, but I must be honest though, Miss Hunt. Many revolutionary groups operate in that particular area on the Vietnam border, and the chance of us recovering the vehicle is extremely slim.”

  Alex unfolded her arms and placed it in her pants pockets. “Thank you for your concern, Commissioner, but we’re simply following the clues. Wherever they may lead us.”

  Sam who stood quietly finally decided to add to the conversation before the Commissioner could respond. “Ahem, Mr. Yeng-Pho, I doubt your men will find any fingerprints. The perp was wearing gloves.”

  “Gloves? How do you know, Mr. Quinn? You mean to tell me you saw him?”

  “Indeed. Just enough to see the guy jump my balcony and run across the street. He was wearing a black mask and black clothes from head to toe. Like the Ninjas in the movies. I only caught sight of him from behind. He was a fast little bugger. I still don’t know how he cleared two storeys with such ease.”

  “Thank you Mr. Quinn. That is valuable information. I will have my team check the surveillance cameras from the street and see if we can identify anything else. In the meantime, I would suggest you stay at the hotel just to be safe until we clear the scene.” The Commissioner nodded and turned heading up the stairs to their rooms.

  “Sir, one last thing, if I may?” Alex stopped him. “We would like to see the original police report and transcribes from the Security guards at the Temple, please? Could you have someone send it over?”

  “With pleasure, Miss Hunt. Anything to help you find our Golden Urn. I will also request that the hotel immediately move you to new rooms on the top floor. Once my men are finished processing your rooms, they’ll have the porter take your luggage upstairs. Again, please accept our apologies and if you need anything else, don’t hesitate.”

  And with that, Mr. Yeng-Pho delivered the instruction to the nearby hotel manager and followed him to their rooms up the stairs.

  “Well then.” Alex spun around. “Nothing for us to do now but wait. I am famished though. I guess we could go grab breakfast and recap on what we know thus far.”

  The hotel lobby was a flurry of excited British an
d French tourists waiting for their shuttles to take them on excursions through the city. The full foyer meant that, thankfully, the breakfast room was quieting down as the last of them finished off. Alex and Sam found a quiet corner by the window overlooking the Tonle Sap River; a total contrast to the entrance of the hotel on the opposite side that was bustling with mopeds and street vendors. The ornate gold and red decor over the expansive windows afforded a certain regal atmosphere. Exactly what they needed. Calm. Neither said a word until they had finished their coffee and their breakfasts arrived.

  Alex pulled out her laptop and journal. “Right. Let’s see what we have thus far, shall we? We know that there was a war over Buddha’s relics. The Buddha died in Kushinagar, India who tried keeping all its relics for themselves. Then all hell broke loose as seven other clans waged war against Kushinagar to claim possession of the relics.”

  “So how did it end up in Cambodia?” Sam asked.

  “To keep the peace, it was divided across just about every Buddhist-majority country. Then, in 1957, The Golden Urn in question was gifted to the then ruler, king Sihanouk of Cambodia by the French, in commemoration of the 2,500th anniversary of Buddha’s birth. It was enshrined in the mountain shrine here in Phnom Penh. That’s where it had been ever since.”

  “Until now that is,” Sam remarked through a mouthful of greasy bacon. “So essentially, any of the countries could have stolen it back. It could be anywhere. Didn’t you say they divided 900, 000 strands of Buddha’s hair?”

  “If you can believe that, yes. What we do know for a fact is that, in total, 84,000 shrines each received an urn containing different body parts of Buddha. So, if each of those shrines already have an urn, then my logic tells me they wouldn’t need another, right?”