Free The Cross of Sins by Geoffrey Knight

"I'm astounded you actually found us."
    "Hand me the reins of a horse, and I can find just about anything. Either that or I'm just lucky, I guess."
    "The desert might be a big place, Mr. Houston, but there's no room for luck out here." Hadley spoke with a stiff British accent. "People die out here all the time. Or worse, they simply vanish forever. Sometimes the sand swallows them whole. Sometimes, the sun turns them into dust or the wind sweeps them away."
    He made his way around the warping tent poles to the table, and then pushed aside several maps to reveal a small item wrapped in a frayed yellowed cloth. "Then again, sometimes it's not just the desert that claims lives. Half the men here, I employ them to do a job—to dig. I do not employ them to be trustworthy or kind. I employ them to shovel earth, to move rocks. It's a sad reality that some of them would kill a man without hesitation or remorse. For food. For water. Sometimes just for the thrill of it. And sometimes for things much more precious. The moment this was unearthed, I hid it."
    Shane raised one eyebrow, dubiously. "I don't mean any disrespect, Doctor. But you hid it under a bunch of maps? On a table? In the middle of the room?"
    Hadley grinned. "The most obvious places always make the best hiding spots."
    The Doctor picked up the small wrapped parcel. Delicately, with the patient hands of a man who had unearthed some of the rarest treasures in the world, Hadley lifted back the layers of the cloth.
    When the last fold of cloth was pulled away, a thick black stone lay flat in Doctor Hadley's palm. It was more than ten inches long on each side, with the jagged right-hand side evidently the result of a breakage. On it, carved deep into the slate, were three rows of etched markings, each unique with its own curves and lines, almost Arabic or Egyptian in appearance, but not as elaborate. The markings disappeared into the broken edge on the right. Up the top were the letters "Z E F F E."
    Hadley said, "I've never seen symbols like this. There are no records anywhere in the world to match these inscriptions. It's not a language, at least not the language of a culture. This is a personal language. A secret language." He stopped and looked at Shane. "That's why I called Maximilian. I suspect he knows the answer. I suspect deep down, we all do. And I can't think of anyone in the entire world who would make a better guardian of a treasure such as this, than Max."
    Doctor Hadley held the stone out to Shane.
    "Take it to him—with great care."
    "I will," Shane said, with confidence, with certainty.
    Shane's hands were so much larger and stronger than the frail archeologist's, this Hadley noticed. It somehow gave him faith in this stranger, to keep the tablet safe, to deliver it from harm, and with those large strong hands pass it onto his dear old friend.
    "There's something more valuable than the stone out there," Hadley said, "and it's worth finding. The truth is always worth uncovering. One day, an archeologist just like me will dig up my old bones, and when they do, I hope they see the truth in me. I hope they learn something."
    Taking as much care as he could, Shane wrapped the cloth over the stone tablet.
    "I'd advise you against riding through the storm," Hadley said, "but you found your way through it once already, and I feel now that time may be of the essence."
    Shane winked and placed the cowboy hat securely on his head. "The storm'll cover my tracks. I'll keep the wind at my back. I can't ask for anything more."
    "Good luck."
    "Thanks."
    Hadley stayed in the tent while Shane returned to the savage storm. The young Texan reached his horse, slipped the wrapped stone into his saddlebag and tied it down as securely as he could. He steadied his unnerved animal, and then hooked one foot in the stirrup and hoisted himself into the saddle effortlessly. He pulled the scarf up over his mouth and nose once more. Then, with a tug on the reins, Shane Houston evaporated