Tony grabbed him and shoved him through the huge metal doors that were open for anyone to enter. Stuff—Chance didn’t have a name for all the items—lay sprawled all over the floor.

“See?” Tony said. “The good stuff is probably gone. But this is worth something. Grab a box and start picking it up. If you don’t, someone else will. We’re the heroes here.”

“I can’t. I won’t.”

“Then hold the flashlights while I do,” Tony growled.

Chance couldn’t leave his friend. He could end up killed in here. And staying would only mean he was complicit in the crime. Tony made it sound like it wasn’t, but Chance knew deep down it was a war crime. “If it’ll get us out of here faster, I’ll help.”

Tony grinned. “That’s the spirit.”

As the days changed to weeks, their efforts shifted to looting from the many unprotected archaeological sites. Looters crawled over them like thousands of ants, digging, pilfering, plundering. And Tony and Chance were among them. Tony had developed a system for moving the items out through a complicated network of handlers rewarded for their efforts. Chance had never wanted in, and he couldn’t figure out how to extricate himself from the trafficking or from his gunner. Until the last item.

Tony opened the box for Chance. “This is our last job. The last one we’ll ever need to do.”

Chance stared down at the item—a gold diadem, a crown of sorts. Mesh with a lot of jewels. Chance didn’t know what the jewels were, but Tony did. He had been studying. Doing his homework. Chance dropped onto the edge of his bunk. All their years together and this, this was the straw to break the brotherhood. “No. I’m done. I can’t do this. Tony . . . I have a bad feeling. Please don’t do this.”

“I can’t do this alone. I can’t move this piece without your help. Without you covering me. You said you had my back.”

Chance scraped both hands through his sweaty, dirty hair. “I never wanted to be part of this. You have to return this. Give it back. Hand it over.”

“Are you nuts?”

He had no choice but to get up and walk out on Tony. The pain of what Tony was doing, of what Chance had let his friend do and been complicit in, knifed through him. A thousand stabs to his heart.

That night, Tony tried to move the object on his own, without Chance accompanying him, covering for him. He recruited someone else, and that person ratted Tony out. Chance heard Tony was supposed to be court-martialed, but the helicopter delivering him crashed and he was killed.