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We drove under the rising black gate and two figures emerged on our left. The garage was dimly lit. I noticed vans in the back corner and a few sedans near the entrance, but otherwise the garage was empty. Most consulates were closed in the evenings.
“Oh shit, they have guns,” Ciaran said and sure enough the two men, both very muscular in their black khaki uniforms, had rifles slung across their backs. Then two more guards appeared on our right.
“No sudden movements,” Filipe advised. “We already let them know there’d be four of us in the car. I’m guessing that’s why we see four armed men. But they’ll only talk to Joan.”
“She does have a way with people,” Ciaran said. “She could probably charm a cobra from striking her.”
“True that,” Filipe said.
Joan rolled down her window. Her voice came through in low tones as she confirmed who she was and ascertained that she was speaking with her contact.
She turned to the backseat. “I’m about to get out, and slide the front seat forward. Pass over the bag when I tell you to.”
“Careful, baby,” Filipe called out. I saw her wink at him.
One of the armed men adjusted his firearm. Ciaran clutched my hand.
I suppose if we were going to have rifles aimed our way, at least Ciaran was nestled against my side to make it bearable. Our operation always had a risk of danger. We mostly worked to restore smuggled endangered animals, but we couldn’t turn our back on smuggled artifacts when we had the connections and money to do something about it.
A minute later, Joan was reaching in to collect the duffel bag, which she then delivered to one of the guards. Backing away, they gently placed it on the ground and inspected it. Joan gave them ample room.
Three of the four armed men huddled together after looking at the statue while one stared us down. One of the three was looking at the sheet of paper our contact from the airport placed inside it. I could hear their voices but couldn’t make out the words.
“You retrieved this from LAX?” one of them finally asked. His voice was low and smooth, with a foreign accent. Only the best of the best would be working at a foreign consulate, so these armed men were elite soldiers or guardsmen or maybe even higher. They could be senior military leaders.
“Yes,” Joan said.
“And you give this to us with no obligations? Why?”
“It belongs with you in your home country or inside your consulate, not smuggled inside the country illegally,” Joan answered calmly. She was absolutely the fiercest woman I knew. “All we ask is that you keep our involvement secret.”
“And?”
Joan smiled sweetly. “And to take my call if we need assistance in placing other artifacts. My friends and I aren’t experts.”
The soldier nodded.
“Very good. You must go now. Cameras will come back online soon.”
Joan gave them a little salute and jumped back into the car. They didn’t have to tell us twice.
No one spoke for several moments as we left the garage, zipped down the alley, and found our way onto I-10 toward the coast. It was only then that the balloon in my chest deflated and it felt like I could breathe.
“Jesus, that was insane,” Filipe yelled.
Then Joan joined in, as did I, and even though Ciaran was the least knowledgeable on the situation, he also started whooping and hollering.
“Holy shit!” he screamed gleefully, as if he was grateful to be alive.
We’d just been in a situation where four men could have gunned us down in a matter of seconds. Instead, we returned what we believed was a priceless artifact to its home nation.
It was a huge relief.
It made my lungs sing.
It was euphoric.
All I wanted to do was pull Ciaran into my lap and attack his mouth in celebration. Without the statue between us, the space, while tight, now had more room, and I certainly didn’t give a shit what Joan or Filipe would say.
