Images From Afar

            “Blasted Fool.  Learn how to drive,” screamed Frank, flying around a tractor that had pulled in front of him from the side of the road.  The vehicles were within inches of colliding.  Turning to Fencin he said, “Say, Pal, you must have a Guardian Angel looking out for you.  If I had crashed into him, it would have been a disaster for us.”

            The tractor disappeared in the cloud of dust rising from Frank stepping hard on the accelerator.  Being the passenger of a reckless, speeding driver wasn’t the way Fencin wanted to arrive at the dig.  If this had occurred in Chicago, he would have insisted on being let out of the jeep.  But, he wasn’t in Chicago.  His only choice was to sit there and put up with Frank’s driving.

            “We’re just about there,” said Frank, pointing ahead.  “Home sweet home for the next few weeks.”

            Frank’s words burst like a flare across Fencin’s mind.  An intense fear seized him.  Up until that very moment, he viewed the FBI assignment in a disconnected way from his personal life, as if Otis’ visit to his office and his explicit instructions were intended for someone else’s assistance.  Not his help.  In other words, the whole scen-ario didn’t seem real until the moment Frank announced their close proximity to the dig.

            Fencin sat silent, unable to speak for several seconds, and wondered if the hot-tempered man next to him was innocent or guilty.  Closing his eyes, he placed his hand on his camera case and visualized the carefully packed tele-scopic, night vision goggles.  They were custom-made for his camera and designed for shooting pictures in the dark.  In Fencin’s eyes, the night vision goggles represented sur-veillance equipment because he could hide in the darkness and secretly photograph images from afar without anyone knowing he was there.  The sensation of the jeep stopping and the sound of the engine turning off startled him.     

            “Thought maybe you dozed off,” joked Frank, looking over at Fencin.  “You got so quiet.”  Nodding at Fencin’s camera case, he added:  “I notice you keep pretty close tabs on your camera gear.  Must be special stuff.”

            His comment took Fencin by surprise.  “I’ve always been overly protective of everything I own.  Maybe it comes from not having much as a child.”

            “Sounds to me like you’re the type who locks every-thing,” said Frank, climbing out of the jeep. 

            “You’re right.  Even the bathroom door.”

            “Sorry to tell you this, but you won’t find any locks here.  Except where we store the artifacts.  Otherwise, everyone’s on the honor system.”  Frank stepped to the back of the jeep and Fencin joined him.  “If you’re looking to lock up anything, I’m afraid you’ll have to head into town and get a safety deposit box.”

            “You’re not worried about outsiders wandering around the dig and –” Fencin started to say.

            “Believe me, there aren’t any thieves lurking around this neck of the woods.  First of all, some of us are black belts in Karate.  Me, Eugene and Paul.”  He lifted up the suitcases and placed them on the gravel covered ground.  “No one would try and steal anything around here; espe-cially, if Eugene ran into him.  He’s one mean sucker.”  He pointed to the left side of his face.  “He got this big ugly scar when he was a teenager.  Must have been one heck of a fight.  He tells me it was nothing compared to what he did to the other guy.”  Frank bent over and picked up his overnight case as Fencin reached for his own lug-gage.  “The guy can tell you horror stories to make the hair on the back of your neck stick straight out.  Like I said, he can be one mean sucker.”

            Instead of responding, Fencin said nothing while he w