Read The Ancient Breed for Free Online

echoing explosion died, one of the men jerked backwards against a crate and slid to the floor. The second shooter spun around, uncertain where the gunshot came from. Nick bit his bottom lip from the escalating pain in his arm, sighted the other man and was about to squeeze-off a shot when he detected movement to his right. A third terrorist sat cross-legged atop a crate in an adjacent stack and pointed his handgun’s beady-eyed barrel directly at Nick’s forehead.
    Instinctively, Nick barrel-rolled to his left and fired. His bullet slammed into the third shooter’s chest and knocked him over the edge. His flailing corpse crashed with a sickening thud on the concrete floor.
    Nick immediately glanced down and saw the first AK-47 shooter sprinting through the open doorway. In a second, he and Lonedeer’s envelope were gone.
    “Damn!” Nick shouted.
    Nick’s forearm burned like a three-alarm fire as he descended through the gun-smoke haze and staggered to Jim Lonedeer’s body. He flicked on his flashlight, jammed his thumb against the Indian’s neck and felt his carotid for a pulse. Suddenly, Lonedeer’s hand flew up and crushed Nick’s bleeding forearm!
    “Tampa,” he hissed breathlessly.
    Nick nearly fainted from the intense pain. “What?” he groaned.
    Jim raised his head; his bulging eyes appeared ready to explode. “Tampa,” he hissed. “Walking . . . man.”
    “Tampa,” Nick repeated through clenched teeth. “Walking man?”
    “Walking . . .”
    Lonedeer’s head and hand slumped against the concrete. Nick checked again for a pulse but there was none. He closed the Indian’s eyelids, crumpled to the floor and managed to phone the office for an ambulance and an Orion Sector sweep-and-clean team before he lost consciousness.
    The Orion Sector medical squad arrived to find both men lying in a single lake of blood. Leaving the Indian’s body for the sweep-and-clean team, the paramedics bandaged Nick’s forearm, administered a shot of antibiotics and sped him to the closest hospital.
    Nick awoke en route, called his office and demanded that the computer department have a complete dossier on Jim Lonedeer on his desk tomorrow morning by ten sharp. The paramedic frowned at Nick’s physical exertion, but the Orion Sector Director stared him down.
    Nick dreaded his next call – to Rance Osborne, FBI Director. His boss would have a few choice words for him, because Nick had sidestepped official bureau policy by meeting with a suspected terrorist without back up. Of course, this wasn’t the first time Nick had blown-off an official policy during an investigation, but this was the first time that he actually felt guilty about it. A government official’s life remained at risk.
    He punched Rance’s home phone number into his satellite phone and pressed Call . He turned away from the paramedic. This wasn’t going to be pretty.

4
    T
    he next morning, a stiff gulf breeze whistled through the open sliding glass door into the suite where Blossom and Clay were examining the gold chest. The sheers fluttered and billowed inward with each gust, but they failed to distract the couple. Their attention was directed on the problem of how to open the locked chest, so they could search the interior for any objects that might identify its ancient owner. Blossom photographed the chest numerous times from every conceivable angle with her digital camera, but even the close-ups failed to pick-up any clues that they might have missed with their own eyes.
    The phone jangled and they both flinched. Blossom snatched the receiver before the second ring.
    “Professor Anders! Thanks for returning my call so quickly,” Blossom said excitedly and immediately proceeded to detail their dive and discovery.
    “That’s amazing!” Professor Anders said after Blossom finished. “Don’t force the chest open. We’ll get a locksmith to open it when I arrive tomorrow.”
    Blossom’s eyes were large brown marbles. “You’re coming