Chapter 12: Easy money, part 3

"Don't tell me what to do, boy!" The mechanical head of my interlocutor suddenly erupted in emotion. "I'll figure out for myself what's more logical and profitable for me. You are too self-confident, but with age, and most importantly, with experience, it passes. And my people are here to provide you with that experience, if you survive it."

"Oh..." I defiantly rubbed the bridge of my nose with my free hand, showing that all their weapons pointed at me meant nothing.

He's supposed to be guided by cold machine logic, not emotion, what's wrong with this guy? He's too emotional for someone with a chip instead of a brain.

"I wouldn't have come here with this if I wasn't sure I wasn't in danger." I made one more attempt to persuade my interlocutor. "You understand, don't you?"

"Are you relying on your speed?" It's like he's trying to get me to confirm that my strength is in my speed... was the camera thing a bluff?

"There's no one in this room who's a threat to me," I said calmly. "These two won't be able to hurt me or stop me, let alone the others... guns aren't serious at all! Your assistant will probably be able to get you out in time, but this conflict will only bring you losses and a trashing of the office. You can check it out if you don't take my word for it. So... here you are with the .45, shoot, just don't break my glasses, please."

The bandit I'd turned to as I put my face in the shot hesitated, looked at the boss, and I was pretty sure he was going to give the appropriate order, and then I'd just have to walk away at top speed, because it wasn't exactly in my plans to massacre and draw the attention of any of the heroes to myself, but...

"What have you got there?" waving a hand at the guards, as if to keep the flies away, the Machine-head suddenly calmed down.

"Nothing in particular," I calmly stepped to his table and under the intense glances of the bandits I placed my package on top of some documents. "Just a bunch of gold I'd like to sell."

The bag, which had been through more adventures today than some in their entire lives, finally gave way and tore, scattering its contents across the table of the Machine Head: gold coins, which were almost certainly of great collector and cultural value, several bars and jewelry of varying degrees of integrity, and a couple of clams, deeply shocked by what was happening. And all of it was covered with a layer of silt, and in some places, a film of microscopic green algae.

"Holy shit!" The Binding Tyrant, a nickname for the guy with the tentacles, whistled at the sight of the gold.

"Did you get it from the bottom of the sea?" The machine-headed man took a gold bar from the pile with squeamish admiration, rubbed it with his index finger. A green slime remained on the tip of his finger.

"A real sunken treasure," I grinned. "maybe even pirate treasure."

Someone behind me swallowed a lump of greedy saliva in his throat.

"Hmm... so, everybody but Tyrant and Titan out," the mob boss decided. "Isotope, what do you think?"

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While the Sixes were leaving the office, Machinehead's secretary took a gold bar from the boss, looked at it carefully, and finally closed his eyes as if listening to something. For ten seconds nothing happened, then the bandit's hands began to glow green.

"This ingot was cast three hundred or three hundred and fifty years ago," Isotope pronounced his verdict.

At this point I could barely keep from whistling. It's gold, for crying out loud. It's not easy to date. I don't remember the details, but it seems that a method for accurately dating gold appeared just a few years ago. So if Isotope really could determine the age of the ingot because of his abilities, he should have gone into science instead of criminals. *

"So..." said Machine Head excitedly, pulling the largest piece of jewelry out of the pile-an almost complete necklace of gems, rubies, I think. "I think we can reach an agreement."

After that, the negotiations took a very different turn. No, Isotope was still on duty at his boss's shoulder, ready to pull him out of harm's way at any moment, and Titan and Tyranus remained on alert to tie me up with a fight, but the overall tone had changed completely. I went from being an unexpected and dangerous guest to a golden egg-laying hen. After all, this guy immediately imagined how much he could get if I started working for him. You know, the classic: together we could rule the world or something. He started off small, though, by asking me to help him with another job. As far as I understood it, it concerned a large shipment of drugs he had recently lost at sea, which I could easily pick up under the noses of the Coast Guard.

I, of course, refused. Further cooperation with the underworld was not in my plans. To be more exact, I didn't want to cooperate with them at all in the first place; I just needed to hand over the treasure I had lifted from the bottom. I should have got more if I had turned it over to the official services, but I could not afford to, for obvious reasons.

So I resolutely rejected all offers of further cooperation from Machinehead.

"I know people like you," he declared, flashing his lenses. "The money will run out, and you'll come to me again... sooner or later. It won't be the last time we meet, you can be sure of that."

Oh, I know that even without you. But the next time we meet, I'll tear this place apart and send you to jail yourself.

"We shall see," I did not, of course, speak my mind: the moral satisfaction was not worth making an enemy overnight.

In the end, I left the criminal mastermind's lair without the gold, but with a briefcase full of cash. We agreed on a hundred thousand. Yes, I realize that I was incredibly cheap, but I don't care. That money would last me a long time-it was even more than my father's annual income from books.

When I went to another city, I bought myself a school backpack, loaded my cash into it, and threw the car-head's suitcase, no doubt equipped with tracking devices, into the ocean. After which I returned home with a clear conscience.

Note:

Since gold contains traces of uranium and retains helium well, it is possible to carry out absolute dating of gold and gold items by evaluating the concentration of helium and uranium/thorium in the metal and to determine the age of the item. More precisely, the time elapsed since the last strong heating of this metal, since helium leaves the metal only at temperatures close to the melting point.

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