Abraham Hunter sat in the jail cell and smiled. He would be here until the end of the week. Once the reporter got his story in they’d let the artifact hunter go. But they didn’t know what he knew.
Hunter maintained huge databases of information about anything extraterrestrial or just plain weird. The databases were already looking at John Parker, so as soon as the Nazca Lines came up, the artifact hunter knew where to go. Not only had he been waiting when the black jet landed but he already knew about the anomalous iron tools. In fact he knew everything they’d spent hours finding out.
And he knew they were flying to Timbuktu. While they’d breathe easier with him in jail he was three steps ahead of them. He’d passed his information to another interested party. It was a debt he could collect later. When the two arrived in Mali someone would be waiting. And compared to them, he was a choir boy.

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