Ford went straight for the desk, retrieving the permit from the remaining papers in the top drawer and hurried back to Castillo to set things straight.
“Here,” Ford growled, whipping the permit at Castillo. “And maybe next time stay out of my things.”
Castillo raised his brow at Ford before taking and examining the document. “How did you get this permit?”
“The property owner applied and gave it to us before we got here. See?” Ford said, pointing to a signature on the form. “His name is right there.”
“I have never seen this man a day in my life,” another man called out while climbing down from one of the Jeeps.
“Who the hell are you?” Ford asked. This situation was getting old.
“I’m Juan Carlos Moreno. The property owner. And I can assure you, Dr. Matthews, that I have not given you permission whatsoever to be on my land.”
No. This couldn’t be right.
“No, Pierre Vautour is the owner—”
“Vautour?!” Corrie called out. “Ford, Pierre Vautour is a smuggler.”
Ford blinked several times. What was happening?
“What? No . . . no, you must be thinking of someone else. He’s a friend of Dr. Crawley’s,” Ford said, trying to convince Corrie. Trying to convince himself.
“Oh, I’m sure. There’s only one Pierre Vautour. Please don’t tell me he’s who hired you for this job.”
Ford stared at her, his nonanswer all the answer she needed.
“Well, this permit is a fake,” Castillo chimed in, handing the bogus document back to Ford. “And perhaps this Mr. Vautour thought you would go unnoticed on hundreds of acres in the middle of the jungle, but trying to sell artifacts on the black market raises eyebrows.”
The thief.
Everything was starting to make sense. Vautour’s blackmailing. His insistence that they quickly wrap up before suspicions were raised. The large sum of money. Money that probably didn’t even exist. Ford was a gullible fool.
“I’m sorry . . . I need a minute to process all this,” Ford said, putting his hand to his forehead. “This . . . this doesn’t make any sense.”
They were in trouble. No . . . deep shit. If they were digging for artifacts without permission and without a permit, they could all be arrested. Thrown in Mexican jail. Who knows how long they’d be stuck there, drowning in red tape and paperwork? And what about his mother?
“Clearly we are as shocked as all of you,” Corrie chimed in, touching Ford’s arm. “Can we have a minute to make a few calls and try to sort this out?”
“Go ahead, but we’re not leaving . . . and you’re not going out to dig,” Castillo said.
Ford stood in a daze, pulled away from the crowd by Ethan and Corrie yanking on his arms. Between his mom, the legal trouble, the potential media frenzy, and their fraternization with criminals, they’d stepped into a full-on shitstorm.
“You have to call Vautour,” Corrie said, snapping him out of the haze.
“And say what? ‘Hey, Pierre, I know you’ve been blackmailing me, but by any chance, were you mistaken when you said you owned the land we’ve been digging on?’ I’m sure that will go over well.”
“Put him on speakerphone. Get him to admit that this was all part of his little scheme so they can hear. Otherwise, we’re going to get arrested, Ford. For all they know, Vautour doesn’t exist. All they see is a group of people trespassing and digging up Moreno’s property.”
“We’re all screwed,” Ford said, pacing between them.
“How did this even happen? I thought you said Dr. Crawley told you about this dig,” Ethan said.
“He did”
“Crawley had to have known about Vautour,” Corrie said.
“There’s no way. Dr. Crawley is highly respected in our field. He encouraged me to fight for this spot,” Ford said.
Corrie blinked. “You mean, he told you to convince Vautour not to hire me?”
Ford nodded. “He said Vautour wanted you, but he was pretty sure that you would decline. Then he told me about the money because I needed it.”
“Ford, there is no way Dr. Crawley didn’t know exactly who Vautour is. He set you up.”
Ford cocked back his head. “What? No. He wouldn’t do that.”
“Why not? He’s clearly been looking for a way to get rid of you. This was his opportunity. Send you off on a bogus dig, and when it falls apart, he’s got a reason to fire you. He knew you were desperate.”
God, how could he have been such a fool? Of course this dig had been too good to be true. And it had fallen into his lap right at the time he needed it most . . . right after he’d gotten his pay cut and explained to Dr. Crawley how much he needed the money.
“How do you know all this? About Vautour, I mean?” he asked Corrie.
“I met Vautour at Bernard Sardoni’s party. The encounter was brief, but a few days later I ran into him again. He knew I was the one who’d taken the necklace and that I’d beat him to it. He said we were two peas in a pod, but I assured him that I wasn’t there to steal anything. I was there to return what had already been stolen. But he said one day he’d call me to work for him, and I said it would never happen. Guess I was wrong about that.”
“Well, this is all fascinating, guys, but what the hell are we going to do?” Ethan asked.
“Maybe we need to give them everything we’ve found? Cut out Vautour. Moreno gets the goods. And we get out of here, hopefully with a slap on the wrist. I mean, it’s still a fantastic discovery. Let’s take them to the site and show them everything, and, Ford, you can give them the tecpatl and then . . . Ford?” Corrie asked as Ford stared blankly at her. “Ford, what is it?”
“My tent . . . it was ransacked.”
“What do you mean it was ransacked? When?”
“I don’t know. When I went to get the permit, it . . . it was trashed. I thought maybe Castillo’s men trashed it, but now . . . well, there’s no way. The timing, I mean.”
“It had to have been one of Vautour’s men,” Corrie pointed out.
“Guiles,” Ford said, finally coming to the realization. “Vautour knew about that night . . . when Guiles found us in the jungle. It has to be him.” How had he not realized it before? Not only was he one of the only guys on the smaller side, per Agnes’s observation of the person sneaking around the storage shed, but he was gunning for a gold star from the boss.
They all turned back toward the group, scanning for Guiles. There, nonchalantly approaching from the TTs . . . in a black hoodie.
“Son of a—” Ford grumbled under his breath, making a beeline toward Guiles. “You!” he said, grabbing a wide-eyed Guiles by the shoulders of that fucking black hoodie.
Ethan rushed over, trying to loosen Ford’s grasp as Guiles trembled. “Ford, Ford, ease up, man!” Ethan said.
“No! This asshole is a snitch. And a thief!” Ford’s voice thundered, rumbling from his throat all the way through his fingertips wrapped around the black cotton, as the veins in his neck throbbed.