Henri Beck & the Hidden Library | 📖

2

the only two people in the entire museum who weren't afraid of the scary men with guns were Henri's parents. They wore eerily calm expressions on their faces. Henri couldn't fathom how they managed to keep their composure.

"What is going on?" Thea half-whispered. "Who are these people?"

Aminata turned toward her husband. "Arkangel?"

Simon nodded solemnly. "We can't let them take the map."

The map. Henri turned his head toward the man who'd shot the display case. He'd just stepped over the velvet rope sectioning it off from the rest of the room. His fellow assailants pointed their weapons at the cowering museum patrons as a form of crowd control. Everyone kept their heads and eyes down. No one dared to even steal a glance their way.

Well, except for Simon Beck.

He stomped toward the man near the display case with the map. Aminata called out to him, but her cries fell on deaf ears. Henri's heart sank as he watched his father approach the gunman.

"Get away from the map!" Simon commanded. His voice held more confidence and authority than it should've. A simple press of a trigger could've spelled the end for him.

He was met with bone-chilling silence. All the other gunmen lifted their heads to peer at him. Even through their visors, Henri could see them shooting incredulous looks at his father. He didn't blame them.

"Dad, what are you doing!" Thea shouted.

He held a finger up for her to be quiet. Pushing his wire-rimmed glasses further up his nose, he scowled at the intruder standing feet away from the shattered display case.

The masked man didn't respond. Instead, they reached out and plucked the map free from the metal stand holding it up.

"I said get away from the map," Simon bellowed. "Listen, I don't know who you are or who exactly put you up to this but—"

The map thief pointed his rifle at him with his finger curled around the trigger. Simon stopped dead in his tracks. While the expression on his face suggested he wasn't fazed, the bead of sweat trickling down his temple said otherwise. Henri's breath caught in his throat. His chest felt heavy as if someone had dropped a dumbbell onto his sternum. He glanced at his mother and sister. They watched the scene unfolding before them with widened eyes.

"You give me order, eh?" The gunman snorted. "Rifle pointed in your face, and you give me order?" He advanced. Simon didn't move an inch.

Henri's eyes bounced between the two of them like a tennis ball being served over a net. Except this wasn't a game. These party crashers didn't seem like the rational type. One wrong word or move could spell their demise.

He glanced at his father, who gave no indication of backing down. "Dad, what're you doing? Just let them take it. It's not worth your life."

"You're right. It's not worth my life. It's worth a lot more than that." He turned his attention back to the thief. "That's why they were sent here to steal it."

"Brave man," the gunman said. Holding his rifle with one hand, he used the other to roll up the map. He then tucked it into the pocket of his black tactical pants, which had way too many pockets.

Henri cringed as he watched him manhandle the aged piece of parchment. The thing was hundreds of years old, at least. If you even blew on it too hard the entire thing could've been ruined. He didn't exactly take the thief as someone who prided themselves on their regard for ancient artifacts.

"Artifact acquired," the map thief grumbled, likely into the headset built into their bulky helmet. "Extraction in progress." He turned to his accomplices. "On me!" He cast Henri, Simon, and the rest of the Becks one last look before heading for the exit of the showroom.