Big Beard and his men reacted even faster, instantly throwing away what was in their hands and raising their guns. But that made Hayven let out an even more wretched scream, because the mask hit the ground and chipped off a corner. He wanted to lunge for it, but shrank back from the sight of those dark gun barrels.
"You bastards, what the hell do you want?!!" Hayven shouted in despair. "Take it all, take it all. Just don't touch my stuff!!!"
"You know what I want." Shiller looked at him and said, "I just wanted to take back what belongs to me. You're the one who made this so complicated."
Hayven squeezed his eyes shut in pain and said in Arabic, "It was that damn French scam artist who came to me, said he'd found a fat sheep we could fleece. As long as we hid the mural, it would be ours. That thing was just too good. I only wanted to get my share…"
"What did he say?" Shiller looked to Big Beard and asked.
"You're looking for a mural," Big Beard looked at him too and asked, "What kind of mural? Worth a lot?"
"Maybe it's worth a lot, but my employer is the Justice League," Shiller said. "You don't want the situation here getting even more complicated, do you?"
Big Beard frowned deeply. He looked at Hayven and said in Arabic as well, "What are you trying to do? Let those Yankees who love sticking their noses into other people's business ride us for good? Give it back to him!"
Shiller couldn't understand Arabic, but from the tone he could tell Big Beard was helping him talk Hayven down. Of course he was. Hayven was just a greedy Collector of cultural relics; he couldn't care less about the regional situation. But Big Beard and his people were different. They could throw their weight around here only because there was no stronger, more effective Strength to suppress them. If the Justice League showed up, that would be a whole different story.
Decapitation strikes might not take out superpower users, but Superman's righteous fists would not spare any terrorist—and by the Justice League's moral standards, there were hardly any people around the Red sea who didn't qualify as terrorists.
In reality, it wasn't that Superman refused to intervene in other countries' business; he'd just been too busy lately. He couldn't even stay on top of matters in the cosmos, so there were bound to be gaps on Earth. He hadn't shown himself for a long time, and that was why tensions in certain regions had been able to erupt.
"It's already too late." Hayven looked at Shiller and said, "Does the Justice League not have enemies?"
"What are you getting at?"
"By the time I went there, the mural had already been taken." Hayven said, on the verge of collapse. "It must've been that damn French scam artist who planted a tracking device in it. I knew he wouldn't give up that easily…"
Shiller stepped forward and smashed the butt of his gun into Hayven's back. He wasn't just venting; he said coldly, "You'd better think it through before you talk. I think you understand what methods these friends of mine use."
Hayven started to tremble. How could he not understand? These people had always been brutal to their enemies. If he fell into their hands, he'd be completely finished.
He'd realized that long ago, but he still had to come, because he couldn't let them take the things here away—they weren't all his. Some had already been reserved by his employers, some were deposited here while they waited for his appraisal report. If all of it vanished, his own fate wouldn't be much better.
"I'm telling the truth." Hayven said through gritted teeth. "Turns out Hesingnag has his own hidden Strength. You've already figured that out, haven't you? I'm not the one who moved him!"
"Aren't you supposed to see everything that goes on in here? Who took him?"
"I didn't see it in time, and the surveillance was deleted!"
Shiller narrowed his eyes, weighing the truth of that statement. After a moment, he chose to believe Hayven. There was no real question about it: it was highly unlikely Hayven was the one who took Hesingnag. It did him absolutely no good. If it wasn't him, then something else was going on.
Shiller let him go, then said, "You think Hesingnag took the mural?"
"It could only have been him!" Hayven screamed. "He's had contact with that mural. He had a way to plant a tracking device in it. He must have accomplices. Before I even got to the safe house, they'd already broken in and snatched the mural!"
"Where is your safe house?"
Hayven drooped in dejection and said, "I can take you there. It'll be abandoned anyway. But you can't touch the things here…"
"My friends are not going to come all this way for nothing."
"I can give you some of it. I mean, a few pieces that are just as priceless and even have official appraisal paperwork. But you can't touch those others. They already have owners. You don't want trouble coming your way, do you?"
Shiller glanced at Big Beard, and Big Beard weighed it up as well. In fact, offloading these relics wouldn't be easy for them; they didn't know the right people in that line. And unendorsed items wouldn't fetch a good price. Better to get a few quality pieces with official documents; they might even get into an auction house and sell for a fortune.
"Fine." Big Beard said. "But don't even think about tricking us, or we'll make every last thing you've done public."
Hayven sighed. He didn't want to compromise either, but at this point he had no other choice. He pointed out a few artifacts to them, then produced the certificates of appraisal.
Big Beard and his men left quickly. But before they did, Big Beard told Shiller that there was nothing unusual on Deathstroke's end; his men had been on him the whole time and hadn't seen him meet with anyone.
Shiller took Hayven to his safe house. The place was so remote it was practically in West Africa. It was a good thing they hadn't tried tracking him by his footsteps; even if they turned the whole Desert over, they might not have found it.
The mural had indeed been here; Shiller saw traces of it being moved. He turned to Hayven and asked, "How did he open the door?"
"Honestly, I don't know," Hayven said. "I don't know how he got the password, I don't know how he bypassed the security System, and I don't know how he deleted the surveillance. It's like he was possessed by Devils."
Hayven knew what he'd just said didn't sound reliable at all, so after a brief pause he added, "But this mural isn't like those little trinkets you can just slip into your pocket and walk off with. He needed the right kind of vehicle."
Shiller immediately thought of the stretch of sand road outside the safe house—the kind that hadn't been properly built, just turned into a path because enough people had walked over it. But this was the Desert; not every car could handle that kind of sand. The type of vehicle and its engine power had strict requirements. If you then put a half‑ton mural on top, the choices became even fewer.
"You can't just steal that kind of truck." Hayven said, "I had someone look into the purchase and rental records and finally found that a moving company's box truck was rented and returned at a very suspicious time. But I can't…"
"You got scared?"
"If I didn't hate him more than I hate you right now, I'd never tell you this—none of this is normal." Hayven said very seriously. "I never gave the safe house code to anyone else. Anyone. That was a secret only I knew, but it was opened just like that. There are Devils at work."
"I see." Shiller let out a light sigh and said, "Tell me where that truck went, then none of this will have anything to do with you anymore."
Hayven didn't look the slightest bit relieved. He just gave Shiller the address and then hurried off, clearly wanting to get away from this trouble spot.
Shiller went to meet up with Deathstroke first. Deathstroke looked the same as always; clearly this job wasn't difficult for him. Deathstroke asked with a bit of concern, "Well? Find the mural?"
"Not yet." Shiller shook his head, went over what had happened, then said, "Same old story. We can't just follow the clues up the chain; we have to make the killer step out on his own."
"So what's your plan?" Deathstroke seemed a little curious, like he just wanted to know how long this farce would drag on and what the final twist at the end would be.
"We need to take a trip to the Red Light District." Shiller said.
Deathstroke didn't ask why. They drove to the Red Light District. The burned‑out house still stood there; clearly there was no point fixing it. But Shiller still found the madam near the building.
"There've been some suspicious people around lately, haven't there? They're hiding. You know who they are."
The madam sighed and said, "I don't want trouble."
"Then tell me what you know. It's not like you're likely to run into bigger trouble than me."
Shiller took a wad of cash from Deathstroke and handed it to the madam. Counting the money, she said, "It's that bunch of Madmen who took over the airport. For some reason they got crushed. I thought they'd hold out a bit longer, make business better for me."
Shiller knew that with planes grounded, a lot of passengers were stuck here. Lodging in the Red Light District was cheaper, with plenty of places to have fun, so many travelers chose to stay here, and the locals were raking it in.
"They're holed up in a hotel down the street, seems like they're plotting something." The madam pocketed the money, then said, "You'd better bring more men and guns when you go over there; they're not exactly pushovers."
Shiller headed toward the place she'd pointed out. Deathstroke said, "You just worked with one group, and now you're going to their enemies?"
"Whatever grudge they have with each other has nothing to do with me." Shiller said. "I just have a use for them."
"Probably not 'nothing to do with you'." Deathstroke muttered under his breath.
Shiller completely ignored the madam's warning and simply knocked on the hotel door. Sure enough, he was greeted by a highly vigilant face and the dark black of a gun barrel.
Of course he hadn't brought Deathstroke along. After all, according to the news, Deathstroke was the one who killed this group's Boss. If he showed up, it'd be a shootout on the spot.
"I'm an American. I've got something to talk to you about." Shiller said. "Just like you've been hoping, I can help you."
The other man still seemed unconvinced. Shiller kept a relaxed expression and said, "If I walk away now, how much longer can you hold out here? Flights at the airport have already resumed. Once the tourists leave, you'll be flushed out in no time."
The man hesitated, then stepped aside to let him in. Shiller didn't care at all about the guns pointed at him and said bluntly, "You've already lost. But there's still one chance to turn things around."
"What?" Their English was even worse, but Shiller's listening wasn't great either, so he was mostly guessing.
"America's Justice League is looking for a mural with supernatural Strength. The mural is in Cairo right now. If you can find it, you might be able to get the Justice League's help."
"What??!" The room exploded in an uproar. They kept asking each other to confirm what they'd heard, chattering away in Arabic without a pause.
"This is your only hope. In your current situation, you're practically trapped birds. Other than Superman, no one can get you out of Cairo."
"You're lying. Superman would never help us." someone said. "He'd only wipe us out."
"That's because you have no leverage. Like I said, that mural has supernatural Strength and is very important to the Justice League. This is your only shot."
The few men in the room looked at each other. Shiller didn't stay long. He left them the information on the moving company's truck and walked out.