It was a trap.

  Still, the Philistine had one mission—to retrieve the famous spear of the Pharaoh, captured by Pharaoh’s ancestor on an expedition to the land of Mitanni from the renowned King Tushratta himself. The spear was said to have mystical powers. After all, the kingdom of Mitanni had fallen once the spear was removed from the land.

  He rubbed his forehead hard and did his best to avert his eyes from the slaughter in the Nile behind him. The Egyptians had lured the Sea People’s ships into the mouth of the Nile, where Egyptian ships as well as archers on the Nile banks were waiting.

  He crept from the shelter of the reeds along the sand. It stuck to him, worse than the dirt of Syria.

  He hoped the scouts had been right and the spear was where they said it was. He crept along. When there was no longer any cover, he crouched down and ran as fast as he could, expecting to be impaled by an arrow or a javelin at any moment, all the while covering the flickering flame of his oil lamp with one hand.

  It was with a mixture of surprise and relief that the Philistine reached the walls of the building. He crouched behind a column and peeked out, but no one was pursuing him.

  This was his first time in Egypt, and hopefully his last, but he gazed up at the great columns before him. Still, now was not the time for artistic reflection. The Philistine took off at speed. He ran along the wall colonnade and down into the hypostyle hall.

  He glanced around constantly, looking over his shoulder. He was surprised the area was not guarded. Still, he figured Ramses had been planning the ambush for some time, possibly even for the two years since the Sea Peoples last attacked Egypt. In that case, Ramses and his advisors would not have suspected that anyone would be after the spear. It would be the last thing on their minds.

  The Philistine hurried into the central court and turned left, following the informant’s directions. When he reached the column, he at once dropped to his knees and brushed the sand away after placing the oil lamp in a safe place away from any threatening breeze. After five minutes, he was beginning to doubt the informant. There was no sign of a trapdoor.

  He was about to give up when something showed through the sand. He worked more feverishly, moving the sand away until the top of the trapdoor lay revealed. With scarcely a thought as to whether venomous snakes were waiting for him, he let himself down through the trapdoor into a tunnel.

  The Philistine stood stock-still and clutched his rushlight, a bunch of bulrushes tied together and soaked in animal fat. He had not dared risk carrying a lighted rushlight while above ground, not with the battle so close. Now safely underground, he produced his bronze oil lamp, and with it, lighted the rushlight.

  He smiled at the sight. The tunnel was wider than he thought, big enough to bring the spear through without too much trouble. What’s more, the rushlight was burning fiercely, showing there was sufficient air in the tunnel.

  So far, luck was on his side, but the Philistine was careful, more careful than an egotistical pharaoh.

  He crouched down, hurrying along the tunnel as best he could. The air was foul and rank, but he took heart in the fact there were no scorpions, no asps, no blocks of granite falling on him—not yet, anyway. He came to a dead end and gasped with frustration until he saw the trapdoor above him. It took some effort to move it aside. He hauled himself up into a room with some difficulty.

  The Philistine gasped when he looked around the room. He looked around for exits. There was a door. No, he at once realized it was the false door used in tombs by the Egyptians to let their Ka, one of the three elements of the soul according to Egyptian belief, pass into the afterlife.

  He shot a glance at the other door. For all he knew, there were guards posted outside that permanently. He had to be quiet.

  The Philistines had paid heavily for the knowledge of the tunnels. The man walked carefully around the room, waving the rushlight before him.

  He had never seen so much gold in one place, golden jewelry, golden sandals, golden statues, gilded masks, golden shields.

  But it was not gold upon which his eyes alighted. It was the spear, the famous spear of the Pharaoh. It took a big man, one over six feet tall and of a muscular build, to wield this spear.

  He crept over to look at the spear, marvelling at the loop on the end to direct it more efficiently. At the end of the spear was a large clump of iron.

  Full of reverence, the Philistine wrapped his hands firmly around the spear and lifted it a little to test its weight.

  He immediately put it back down and wiped his brow. This was indeed heavy, heavier than had been reported. Still, it was the described length, and he was sure he could get it back. He had no option.

  He himself was over six feet tall, one of the best warriors. That’s why they had sent him. He lowered the spear into the tunnel and then slipped into the tunnel after it, careful to close the panel above his head.

  So far, so good. Now he just had to get it back to his ship and back to the Philistine city of Gath.

  The Philistine lamented that going through the tunnels was hard with this spear. It was heavy, and the way was made more difficult by the fact he had to crouch.

  When he climbed out, he was glad of the cover of the rocks of the tunnel’s exit. He struggled to shove the spear out first and then sat on the ground, rubbing his sore shoulders and biceps. It was one thing to carry a spear in a chariot to frighten an enemy at the thought of hand-to-hand combat, but dragging this spear anywhere for any length of time was sheer madness.

  He could still hear the sounds of fighting, but he had to get back to the river and get this spear onto a boat. He judged the distance. If only his accomplice had gone with him, but his accomplice had wanted to guard the boat.

  The distance to the Nile was short, but it seemed like an age to reach it.

  “Do you have it?” the other man said.

  “What does it look like?” the Philistine snapped. He was exhausted from half carrying, half dragging the heavy spear all the way.

  The other man slapped him on the back. “Good work.”

  “How are our people faring?”

  The other man shook his head. “We won’t get any help from them, I’m afraid.”

  “Then how will we make our escape?”

  “The way we came in. We can slip around behind them, and since we’re dressed as simple Egyptians, I don’t think anyone will give us a second look. We won’t be going anywhere near the fighting.”

  The two Philistines slipped away in what looked like a simple boat made of tamarisk but was, in fact, a boat especially strengthened by the superb work of the Philistines to carry the weight of the spear.

  “Many a Philistine champion will carry this spear into battle,” the other man said with reverence.

  The Philistine snorted. He didn’t quite care at that point. He just wanted to get away from Egypt as fast as possible. Little grains of sand had found their way into his ears and his mouth. He spat.

  The two men sailed in the cover of darkness away from the destruction of the Sea Peoples, of which the Philistines were one group, by Ramses III.

  2

  THE PRESENT DAY

  PENNSYLVANIA

  Abigail arrived at the restaurant with Riley. She couldn’t believe she was on a date with him. Her heart beat a little faster as she took in her surroundings. She noticed a man who came in behind them—could he be a Vortex agent? She shook her head. Surely, she wasn’t being followed. It wasn’t as if she was on a mission now. No, she would enjoy her dinner with Riley, the first of many she hoped.

  They were escorted to their seats. Abigail smiled to herself when she saw they were at a table against a wall, and of course, Riley sat with his back to the wall. This time, however, he was not sitting overlooking a road. Still, she could see he was on full alert. So was she, at least to a degree. The mission to Sardis had made her hyper-aware of her surroundings.

  Abigail noticed things that she hadn’t noticed before—the two exits at the back of the room, a steak knife glinting on the table. Not that she herself could use a weapon, but she knew plenty about them—ancient weapons, that is. She had once attended a conference where an Australian academic had spoken on the Macedonian sarissa, a fifteen to eighteen-foot spear. Previously, historians thought ancient writers had exaggerated the length of the sarissa, but the academic had replicas made and had mounted students on horseback to re-enact their use. He had proven conclusively that eighteen-foot spears could be used in battle.

  “You’re a million miles away,” Riley said.

  Abigail looked up and smiled. “Sorry. I was thinking about ancient weapons.”

  Riley’s lips twitched slightly as a waiter appeared, looming over them. He handed them a menu.

  Abigail couldn’t be happier. She was relaxed and in Riley’s company without the pressure and the danger of a mission.

  “Abigail, have you been here before?” Riley asked.

  She shook her head. “No, why?”

  “I thought you might be able to recommend something.”

  “So, you haven’t been here before either?” Abigail’s stomach clenched at the thought of Riley being there with someone else. She smiled a small sigh of relief when he said he hadn’t. She wished she could talk about their latest mission to debrief as it were, but she knew that wouldn’t be possible, not in public like this. Instead, she said, “How’s work?”

  “Nothing new,” he said with a wink. She knew he had been on another mission. “And you?”

  “Same old, same old,” she said. “My paper was today.”

  “And it went well?”

  Before Abigail could respond, Riley’s phone vibrated. It was placed on the table. He looked at it and his expression changed. “I’m sorry, I’ll have to take this.”

  Abigail expected Riley to take the phone outside, but he remained there to take the call. She couldn’t hear what the other person was saying. Riley looked surprised at intervals and then nodded. After he had been speaking for a short time, he looked at her. “You’re sure?” After that, he gave a curt nod and hung up.

  “You have to come with me,” he said.

  “Another one?” Abigail said in a low tone.

  Riley nodded just as the waiter appeared. “We have to go,” Riley said. “Work emergency.”

  The waiter looked somewhat irritated, and disappeared. Riley leaned across the table and said in low tones, “We have to fly to New York.”

  Abigail raised one eyebrow. “What? Now?”

  Riley nodded.

  “But Mary Yoder, my Amish landlady, will be worried if I disappear. I’ll have to call her barn phone and leave a message.” Abigail reached for her purse, but Riley shook his head. “No, don’t use your phone. I’ll drive you there, and you can speak with her in person.”

  Abigail rubbed her eyes with one hand and then hoped she hadn’t left mascara streaks down her face. She wondered what on earth she would tell Mary. Last time, she said she’d been called out to a dig—and she had been, truth be told. She figured this time she would say her help was needed with another archeological matter.

  “And you can bring a small bag of clothes,” Riley said.

  Abigail face lit up. “That’s fantastic. I couldn’t do that last time.”

  What followed seemed like a blur to Abigail. Everything happened quickly. Before she knew it, Abigail was in his car. She had left her car back at the college, and she knew it would be safe there for a few days. Riley’s was the same black SUV she had been in previously, and she knew it was bullet-proof. “Can you tell me what it’s about?” she asked him.

  He looked across at her as he sped in the direction of the Amish farm. “The Director is going to fill us in at RHTF. That’s where we’re going.”

  “I’m going to meet the Director?” Abigail asked incredulously. “I’m going to the Relic Hunters Taskforce headquarters?”

  Riley nodded. “It’s funny you were mentioning weapons—this is all to do with an ancient weapon.”

  Abigail was excited. “An ancient weapon!” she said gleefully. “Do you know what it is?”

  “Goliath’s spear.”

  Abigail’s hands flew to her throat. It was a moment or two before she could speak. “You’ve got to be kidding! Goliath’s spear! Have they found it?” She held up one hand. “No, let me guess. They found the location, and we have to navigate a whole lot of deadly booby-traps and pits of vipers to retrieve it.”

  Riley chuckled. “Nothing quite so dramatic as that. The Director didn’t tell me much, but apparently a papyrus has been uncovered and it’s supposed to reveal the location of Goliath’s spear.”

  “And what’s our mission?” Abigail asked.

  Riley shrugged one shoulder. “I have no idea. That’s all the Director told me, apart from the fact I was to bring you.”

  Riley turned the car down the small lane that ran toward the Amish farm. It was late, but Abigail was relieved she would have the opportunity to tell Mary that she was going away. If she had to call through to the barn in which Mary’s husband ran his carpentry business, Abigail would have had to leave a message.

  “Don’t be too long,” Riley said. “There’s a plane waiting for us.”

  “I’ll be as fast as I can.”

  Abigail hurried to the Amish farmhouse and knocked on the door.

  Eli Yoder opened it. “Abigail! Wie ghets?”

  Abigail hurried to reassure him. “Nothing’s wrong. I’ve been called away unexpectedly on an archeological matter. I don’t know how long I’ll be away. Probably a few days.”

  Mary hurried over. “Abigail, are you going away again so soon? You lost weight last time. Come inside and I’ll fetch you some whoopie pies.”

  “Thank you, but I have a colleague waiting in the car for me.”

  The Amish lady waved her concerns away. “Nee, it won’t take long. You have to eat.” She hurried Abigail into the kitchen where she selected some chocolate whoopie pies and packed them in a straw basket. “Here, take these. Otherwise, you’ll waste away to a shadow.”

  “Denki,” Abigail said, using the Amish word for ‘thank you’. “That’s very kind of you.”

  Mary made a shooing motion with her hands. “Off you go. And remember to eat this time.”

  Abigail chuckled and hurried out the front door before skirting around past the herb garden to the grossmammi haus, the cottage at the back of the main Amish house. She hurried inside to find the large backpack she had bought only a few days earlier in the hopes of another mission. In fact, she already had a fresh toothbrush, toothpaste, and other toiletries packed in there. She threw in a pair of sturdy boots and was pleased that she had already prepared. She flung the bag over her shoulder, grabbed the basket of whoopie pies, and hurried to the car.

  3

  RHTF HEADQUARTERS: UNDISCLOSED LOCATION

  Riley drove Abigail to the airfield they had visited on their last mission. To Abigail, it seemed like forever since they had been there. So much had happened in so little time. When she boarded the plane, she expected to see Ellis, but no one else was in sight. It was either the same plane she had flown in previously, or it was an identical plane. The configuration inside was the same: the plush armchairs, the highly polished table, the expensive-looking cabinetry.

  Riley indicated Abigail should sit and fasten her seatbelt. He sat opposite her. “Is Ellis joining us?” she asked Riley.

  He shook his head. “No. We’re about to take off.”

  “I meant on the mission.”

  “I have no idea. We’ll find out presently.”

  Abigail was filled with mixed emotions. She was concerned to be going on another mission, but she relished her time spent with Riley, and truth be told, she did love the thrill of the adventure. And what if someone had in fact found Goliath’s spear? She shivered with excitement at the thought of seeing it.

  Abigail dozed off, despite her best intentions to stay awake, and only awoke upon landing when the plane hurtled at speed along the runway.

  “We’re here,” Riley said, somewhat unnecessarily.

  Abigail stepped down from the plane into the open air, a breeze ruffling her hair. “I can’t believe it’s happening again.”

  “We drive from here,” Riley said.

  “Where are we going?”

  Before Riley had an opportunity to answer, a black car sped up and screeched to a stop. The driver got out, and with a nod to Riley opened the back door. Abigail climbed inside, but Riley walked around across to the front seat.

  There was no conversation inside the car, a fact which made Abigail somewhat uncomfortable. He left her alone with her thoughts, and her imagination was running wild thinking of what could lie ahead of them.

  Without warning, the car turned sharply into the parking area of what looked like an office building. As soon as they were undercover, their way was barred. Abigail assumed it was simple parking until she saw a guard stick his head out. The driver handed his ID to the guard. Abigail couldn’t see what the guard was doing, but he handed the ID back.

  “Passenger name?” he asked.

  “Dr. Abigail Spencer,” the driver said. “Here at the request of the Director.”

  “One moment,” the sentry said.

  Abigail was expecting him to stick his head back down to the window, but the barrier lifted and the car sped through. When the car continued on, it wound its way up a few levels. Abigail figured that this entire building couldn’t be the headquarters of Relic Hunters Taskforce. After all, just how big an organization was it? She figured there must be other covert government departments in the same building.

  The driver came to a stop. Riley and Abigail got out and the driver fetched Abigail’s backpack from the trunk. With a nod at Riley, he got back into his car and drove away. Riley indicated Abigail should follow him into an elevator. To Abigail’s surprise, the elevator had thumbprint and iris security.

  Abigail hadn’t imagined Relic Hunters Taskforce would be so high-tech. It was almost like a James Bond film. She had imagined the RHTF headquarters to be more like an academic office, maybe walls lined with bookshelves, as well as computers and half-open books lying about. She had never imagined the security would be so elevated, although upon reflection it made perfect sense.