“All right, let’s get what’s in these boxes loaded up,” Dixon said.

The other two giants climbed up into the back of the truck and started unloading the contents of the boxes they’d been carrying, carefully stacking up more tubes and rearranging the padded sculptures so they could have as much room as possible inside for their stolen loot.

Dixon stayed on the ground and watched the other men work. While they were distracted, he casually bent down as though he was going to tie his boot. Instead, he slipped a small cell phone out of his pants pocket and hit a button on it. A faint beep sounded. Dixon nodded to himself and slid the phone into his pocket again before smoothly getting back to his feet.

My eyes narrowed. What was Dixon up to? And why didn’t he want his comrades to know about it?

The giants finished unloading their latest haul and hopped out of the back of the truck with their now-empty boxes. Dixon waved them toward the museum.

“You two go back inside and get the next load,” he said. “I’m going down to the bridge to check on the others.”

The giants nodded, walked up the main steps, and disappeared into the museum. Dixon set off in the other direction, heading away from the truck and the museum. Curious, I crept after him.

Dixon followed the main road down the sloping hill to the covered bridge. Luckily, the gardens ran alongside the pavement, so I was able to slide from tree to tree and bush to bush and move parallel to him. My bare feet didn’t make a sound on the soft, dew-covered grass, but Dixon didn’t even think to look around and see if someone might be following him. He thought everyone was secure inside the museum.

He’d realize how wrong he was soon enough—when I killed him.

Finally, Dixon reached the bridge. I stopped in the gardens and hunkered down behind a holly bush, about twenty feet from him. Two of the old-fashioned iron streetlights were planted in the pavement on either side of the bridge, although their golden glow did little to dissipate the shadows spilling out from the mouth of the structure.

Two other giants—a man and a woman—were crouched right inside the bridge entrance. The woman was shining a flashlight at the wooden boards while the man rummaged through a duffel bag on the ground next to him. I thought he might have another welder’s torch stuffed inside, like the men in the vault had, but instead, the giant drew out a crowbar and a roll of duct tape.

Along with a bomb.