Chapter 1

THE TIME: 2011 A.D. THE PLACE: Port Security Warehouse, NYC (A New Beginning)

The oblong crate stood in silent witness of the scurrying humans attempting to flee the weighty hammer of the Customs and Immigration minions staunchly raising the net of post-911 port security measures.

No one gave it a second glance.

It was obviously too big to hiding precious artifacts. It was too overt to be hiding illegal drugs and there were no air holes to be housing unwelcome visitors.

Rhonda Murphy looked at the inventory list in her hand.

There were 125 items listed on the declaration sheet and she had crossed off 125 corresponding items in the shipment. This box was not supposed to be here.

The three items they had gotten a tip on were all accounted for. Three more crates filled with coke that would not hit the streets of the big apple.

The attractive redhead moved around the crate in slow and thoughtful puzzlement. How could a nine foot tall crate weighing at least a ton manage to escape scrutiny all the way to the port authority quarantine dock?

Several of the male dock workers and her mostly male cohorts kept their eyes focused on her swaying ass cheeks as she sauntered oblivious to the agitation her tight skirt aroused in any male in sight.

Rhonda did not consider herself a beauty. Sure, she knew she had a nice figure and her face was prettier than most; but she saw herself as somewhat ungainly and possessed of too much lean muscle to be particularly feminine or sexy.

With years of martial arts training under her belt, the luscious redhead was more of a workaholic and much less of a party girl. Very much to the displeasure of her scheming mother desirous of her instantaneous marriage and motherhood. Rhonda's partner, Gregg Sampson tore his eyes away from the glorious ass cheeks struggling to get out of the tight skirt and drew Rhonda's attention to the stamp burned into the crate's wooden surface. The stamp said quite simply,

"Property of excavation survey team 8 (Neferuptah) Removed to Harawa July 1913 CAUTION=DO NOT OPEN (Probable lethal gas)"

With unintentional crudeness, the attractive redhead exclaimed,

"What the feck we got here, Gregg?"

She slapped the side of the crate and licked her suddenly dry lips with a pink pointed tongue that made Gregg ooze a couple of drops of pre-cum inside his uniform trousers. Shortly after they started working together, he had attempted to suck her pretty mouth with serious intent to initiate a physical relationship. The budding romance had ended abruptly when Rhonda flipped him off his feet and planted her foot in his tailbone in a painful manner. After that incident, he kept contact to a handshake or a wave of the hand from a safe distance.

Rhonda got on the horn to the division and they told them to hang on until they could get an "Expert" over to sort things out. It was a lot better than rushing back to the unit and doing the boring paperwork. Maybe it would all be done by the time they got back.

Her curiosity had gotten the better of her and she was straining at the leash to get the crate ripped open to see what was inside. She figured the gas thing was a gag of some kind to keep thieves out of the container.

The "Expert" that showed up was one "Doctor Michael Gallagher PHD, Artifact Investigator, Museum of Natural History, NYC, NY."

Doctor Mike was not an impressive man.

He was short. In fact, he was shorter than Rhonda by about 3 inches. Then again, Rhonda was 6 foot tall without heels. He wore glasses that made him look both studious and geeky. Rhonda noticed he had an irritating habit of pushing his glasses up whenever he was asked a question to give himself time to think before answering. She wanted to rip his glasses off and kiss him so hard he couldn't breathe.

Wait a minute!

Rhonda knew she couldn't have possibly meant "kiss". She must have meant "hit". Yes, that was it he needed a good shot to the chops to wipe that stupid smirk off his luscious lips. No, she didn't mean luscious, she meant "silly".

The beautiful redhead knew she was not thinking properly with this man around her.

For some unknown reason, he made her all confused in her thinking. She wanted to slam him to the ground and make him do very erotic things to her. Rhonda had not felt that way ever since the terrible prom dance date with Todd Williams that ended in some torn panties for her and a black eye for young Mr. Todd.