Wait a second. I was no mechanic, but mufflers didn’t have boxes on their sides, as far as I knew. I wiggled up a little more so I could get a better look, and I realized that there was a hole in the box. I reached up and hooked my finger in the slot. To my surprise, the metal slid back easily, revealing what was inside the box.

Another bomb.

I froze, wondering if I might have somehow armed the device just by opening the box, but as the seconds passed and I didn’t get blown into next week, I relaxed.

A little.

I let out a tense breath and slowly moved the light over the device. This bomb was just like the one I’d pried off the bridge board, a brick of explosive with a cell-phone trigger. It wasn’t an enormous bomb, but it probably had enough juice to torch the truck and everything in it. That must have been what Dixon was checking with his phone earlier—to make sure that he could blow the device when the time was right.

I frowned, even more puzzled than before. Why would Dixon rig the moving truck to blow? Especially since there was already several millions of dollars’ worth of art on it, with more on the way. Blowing the bridge was one thing. Clementine needed that to help with her escape. But this—this made no sense. Why destroy the things you had come here to steal in the first place?

I lay there under the truck a moment longer, thinking. Then I turned off my flashlight and wormed my way out from underneath the vehicle. I got to my feet, crept to the front of the truck, and looked inside the cab, but it was empty except for a set of keys hanging in the ignition.

I quickly scurried around to the other three trucks and looked into their cabs as well, but they too were all empty except for their respective keys. Since they giants hadn’t started loading them up yet, the backs of them were all still shut and locked.

I paused a moment, thinking. Not seeing or hearing any giants headed my way, I decided to risk checking on one more thing.

I climbed into the back of the truck that was open, the one that I’d seen the giants stuffing with art earlier.

It was almost full, with only a narrow path leading from the front to the back, and I imagined the giants would fill in the rest of the available space soon enough. I snapped my flashlight back on, moving it over everything inside. Rolled-up tubes, bubble-wrapped statues, empty frames made of gold and silver. The giants had certainly been thorough in their looting.

But there was one thing that was missing: the silverstone case that I’d seen Dixon carrying earlier.