the smuggler’s bible

Aneta

Aneta spreads the map out over the center of the table, weighing the corners down with books. She waves a hand to clear the dust and points to a smear of ink—a faded X, circled and underlined.

“That’s it,” she says. “We’ve found it at last.”

“Wow, how old is this?” Wisteria checks the legend and whistles. “No kiddin’. I mean, cool, but no way that’s where they stashed it.”

“Explain yourself.”

“First off, babe, nobody marks their secret hoard. Second, if they did the library wouldn’t catalogue it.”

“But the librarian—”

“Was very annoyed by your silly questions.”