‘That’s right, the history crap that put about ten million bucks’ worth of gold and jewels into the back of this bone-shaking piece of junk you call transport, in case it slipped your mind,’ she snapped at Holt. Then for Ben’s benefit she added, in a softer tone, ‘Nobody’s ever been able to find the exact location of the caves. Dad speculated that the sheltering army might have left some mark behind. Like graffiti. Imagine that: “Demetrius was here”. What a find. Or who knows, it could be something more substantial.’

‘We’re not going there for the sake of archaeology, lady,’ Holt told her. ‘I couldn’t be less interested in that bullshit. There are real people out there who need our help.’

Madison froze him with a look that could make a man’s nose turn black and drop off from twenty paces away. ‘Hey, no problem. Let me know if you assholes need any assistance with that, okay? Because here’s a real person who might be of some use to you, if it comes to it.’

From the back, Father B said, ‘Bless you, my child.’ The moral weight of God’s Divine benediction seemed to settle the argument, because Holt said no more. Ben fell silent too, and went on driving.