Page 51 of Johan. (Van Den Bosch #8)

Johan

The last day of our blissful stay in St. Moritz comes to an end, and the bittersweetness of parting lingers as Hannah and I pack our things.

The sun is beginning to set, casting a warm, golden glow over the snowy landscape outside our window.

The room is filled with a quiet melancholy, the kind that settles in when a perfect time must end.

We’ve decided to take separate flights back to England to avoid any suspicion.

As much as I want to travel with her, this precaution is necessary.

I close my suitcase and look over at Hannah, who is carefully folding the last of her clothes. She looks up and catches my gaze, a sad smile playing on her lips. Her eyes, usually so bright and full of mischief, are now misty.

“I can’t believe this week is over already,” she says softly, her voice trembling slightly as she smooths a wrinkle from her blouse.

“I know,” I reply, walking over to her and wrapping my arms around her waist. The warmth of her body against mine is comforting, and I wish I could hold her like this forever. “It's been perfect.”

She leans into me, resting her head on my chest, and I feel her take a deep breath. “Promise me it’s the last time we have to be hidden together like this.”

“I promise,” I say, kissing the top of her head and breathing in the scent of her hair, a mix of her shampoo and the fresh mountain air. “We’ll make it happen.”

We stand there for a few moments, just holding each other, savoring the last bit of our time together. Finally, she pulls back slightly and looks up at me, her eyes searching mine for reassurance.

“Don't forget, we're meeting at Dr. Angela’s apartment tomorrow at five,” she reminds me, her voice steadying as she speaks of plans.

“I haven't forgotten,” I assure her, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I'll be there. We'll go over everything we need for the trip.”

She nods, satisfied, her smile returning. “Alright. I'll see you there.”

We exchange a final, tender kiss before heading to our respective departures.

The drive to the airport is quiet, each of us lost in our thoughts.

When we arrive, we embrace one last time before heading to separate terminals.

I watch her walk away, her figure getting smaller in the distance until she disappears into the crowd.

The flight to London is uneventful, but my mind races with thoughts of the upcoming expedition.

Once I land, I head straight to the upscale restaurant where Ludovic has organized a dinner with the key members of our team.

The restaurant is elegantly appointed, with crystal chandeliers and plush seating, an appropriate setting for such an important gathering.

The scent of rich foods and fine wine fills the air, mingling with the soft murmur of conversation.

I arrive and immediately spot Ludovic, who is already engaged in conversation with Dean Pembroke and Professor Anderson.

The Omani officials, distinguished and composed, are discussing something with the conservator and the photographer.

Ludovic sees me and waves me over, his face lighting up with a welcoming smile.

“Johan! Glad you could make it,” he says, clapping me on the back. His grip is firm, and his eyes sparkle with excitement.

“Of course,” I reply, scanning the room. “Is Lukas here yet?”

Ludovic nods towards a table. “He just arrived. Go on, greet him.”

I walk over and find Lukas standing awkwardly near the bar, a glass of water in his hand. He looks up as I approach, a smile breaking across his face, the tension in his shoulders visibly easing.

“Johan, it’s great to see you,” he says, extending his hand.

“You too, Lukas. Welcome to the team,” I reply, shaking his hand firmly. The handshake is warm, a silent promise of the collaboration to come. “We’ve got a lot of exciting work ahead of us.”

“True, I’m really excited to join you. Thank you for having me.”

“You deserve it.”

We all settle into our seats, and Ludovic, as the host, begins the evening with a toast. “To new discoveries and successful collaborations,” he says, raising his glass.

The crystal catches the light, sparkling as if to emphasize his words.

We all echo his sentiments and take a sip of our drinks, the wine smooth and rich on my tongue.

As dinner progresses, small talk revolves around Ubar.

Ludovic shares anecdotes about previous expeditions, his eyes alight with the thrill of adventure, while Dean Pembroke and Professor Anderson discuss their expectations, their tones serious yet filled with anticipation.

The Omani officials speak highly of the local team, who they say have been doing a tremendous job in preparing the site.

“We’re confident that with your expertise, we can uncover even more about Ubar,” one of the officials says, his tone respectful and encouraging. His eyes meet mine, and I nod in acknowledgment, feeling the weight of responsibility settle on my shoulders.

The conservator and photographer listen intently, occasionally chiming in with their own questions about the site and what they can expect. Their faces are animated, reflecting the same excitement I feel bubbling under the surface.

After dessert and coffee, the dinner slowly comes to an end. I feel a mixture of exhaustion and excitement as we all say our goodbyes. Ludovic catches my eye and gives me a nod, a silent acknowledgment of the journey ahead.

I head back to my flat in Cambridge, and the moment I step inside, I collapse onto the bed, not even bothering to undress. The day’s travel and the evening’s discussions have drained me, and the bed feels like a welcoming embrace.

Before sleep claims me, I remember I need to call Lukas. I pick up my phone and dial his number. He answers on the second ring, his voice clear despite the late hour.

“Lukas, it’s Johan. I’d like to meet with you tomorrow for an important face-to-face regarding the expedition. Can you come by my flat around four forty-five so we can go together?”

“Of course, Johan. I’ll be there,” Lukas replies, his voice tinged with curiosity and eagerness.

“Great. See you then,” I say, hanging up. With that final task done, I let myself drift into sleep, the excitement of the expedition mingling with the exhaustion of the day. My dreams are filled with images of the desert, ancient ruins, and the promise of discoveries yet to be made.

On the last day before our departure to Oman, Lukas and I meet at a quarter to five in front of my building.

The winter evening in Cambridge is already darkening, the sun having set just a couple of minutes ago.

The sky is a dull grey, hanging low like a heavy blanket, filled with the unspoken promise of biting cold.

At least it’s not raining , I think to myself as I adjust my scarf.

Lukas stands quietly by the gate, his glasses catching the soft glow of the streetlamps as they flicker on.

He gives them a quick adjustment, pushing them up the bridge of his nose with a subtle motion of habit.

We exchange a brief nod of understanding—words unnecessary between us—and without delay, we set off down the quiet streets, our pace brisk as the chill seeps into our bones.

Our destination is Dr. Angela’s apartment, nestled in a modest building that blends seamlessly with the surrounding architecture.

I remember it from our last meeting there: unremarkable yet secure, the perfect place for hushed conversations and plans that must remain secret.

We make our way up the narrow staircase after entering the building, the wooden steps creaking underfoot.

When we reach her door, I knock softly. The sound is almost absorbed by the thick silence of the hallway.

After a moment, the door opens, revealing Angela’s familiar face.

Her expression softens as she recognizes us, and she steps aside, ushering us into the dimly lit interior.

The curtains are drawn tightly, preventing any unwanted attention from outside.

Amelia and Hannah are already there, standing by the dining table in the center of the room.

Their eyes briefly meet ours as we enter, acknowledging our arrival with a quick nod.

“Everyone, this is Lukas,” I begin, my voice steady and reassuring, introducing him to the others. “He’s joining us on the expedition as my assistant.”

Lukas, slightly adjusting his glasses once more, steps forward with a small nod of his own. His posture is tense, but there’s a touch of relief in his face now that the introductions are being made.

Angela is the first to extend her hand, her smile warm and inviting despite the weight of the mission hanging over us all. “Welcome, Lukas,” she says kindly. “Johan has spoken highly of you. We’re glad to have you on board.”

Lukas shakes her hand, his grip firm but careful. “Thank you. I’m honored to be part of this.”

Amelia approaches next, her expression more serious but not unkind. There’s a gravity to her that Lukas seems to sense immediately. “I suppose you’re wondering what exactly you’ve gotten yourself into,” she says, a hint of wryness in her tone. “It’s time you knew the truth about our mission.”

Lukas’s eyes dart between us, a flicker of concern behind his glasses. “And what is it?” he asks cautiously, his voice low.

I step in to fill the silence, taking a deep breath before speaking.

“Lukas, Ludovic Goschen isn’t just a wealthy sponsor,” I explain, my voice calm but firm.

“He’s a treasure hunter and a criminal. This expedition?

It’s a cover for him to steal the artifacts of Ubar and sell them to the highest bidder.

Our real mission is to gather evidence to stop him and ensure he’s brought to justice. ”

Lukas blinks, his eyes widening behind his glasses. His mind races, processing the weight of this revelation. “I… I had no idea. This is… This is serious.”