No Rules by Starr Ambrose

story.”
    It was almost funny. Jess struggled to keep a straight face. The absurdity of a former university professor and four highly trained former military operatives in serious debate over whether beavers were good guys or bad guys made it hard to take seriously.
    She knew more now about who the Omega operatives were. Donovan had given her a quick rundown of the team members’ backgrounds, each of them impressive. Kyle had been with the SEALs, Mitch and Donovan in the Marines doing black-ops work that he refused to specify. Avery had been in the Army. All had been dissatisfied with a lack of immediate, positive results. Each had ended up leaving the military, eventually finding that missing sense of satisfaction with the Omega Group.
    And now they were analyzing a children’s story like it was the most important puzzle they would ever solve. As improbable as it sounded, she believed they were right. Her father had had vital information to deliver, and like it or not, he’d used her to do it.
    She didn’t like it. But at least her part here would be over soon.
    “I think the beavers are the good guys.” Evan said it as seriously as any of her six-year-old readers might, and the others nodded solemnly. Jess bit her cheek to keep from giggling.
    “So what’s the gift the wolf and rabbit are bringing them?” Avery asked. “He must be trying to tell us to bring something along. Is it the weapons needed to bust them out?”
    Donovan raised his head to look down the table at Jess. “What did you say it was?”
    “A vase.”
    Avery wrinkled her nose. “How does a vase represent a weapon? Does it contain a bomb?”
    They all looked at her. Jess shrugged. “He specifically said the rabbit buys a vase and brings it as a housewarming gift. I thought it was stupid, too. In fact, he said an old vase at first, which is typical of how my dad always thought. Old things were precious in his mind, invaluable pieces of history.”
    She caught it even if they didn’t—she’d referred to Wally as her dad. When she remembered back far enough to the days before she’d become disillusioned with him and what she’d believed to be his lies, that’s who he was. Dad. She shoved the memory aside; it was too filled with sadness and regret to dwell on.
    “They take an old vase with them?” Kyle asked, obviously puzzled. “What good is that?”
    “I didn’t ask because I didn’t realize it stood for anything else. I told him kids wouldn’t identify with a vase, but I think he wanted—”
    “In his words,” Donovan reminded her.
    She rolled her eyes and sighed, but thought carefully before reciting as if it was a grammar-school lesson learned by rote. “I said, ‘Kids don’t care about vases.’ He said, ‘They might, especially if it’s old and valuable.’ I said, ‘It should be something like tender sticks the beavers might like to chew on,’ because that made more sense, and would provide a bit of education about beavers. He said, ‘Vases can be educational. It should be a vase.’ He thought everyone should be fascinated with ancient history. I said, ‘At least make it a new vase. Buying an old one doesn’t make sense, and kids are more likely to equate newness with value.’ And he said, ‘If you say so,’ like he was patronizing me. So yes, he insisted that the gift would be a vase. I have no idea why.”
    She crossed her arms and sat back, her part done. Evan frowned, thinking. Avery raised an eyebrow at Donovan. “You said this would be easy to figure out.”
    “Maybe it’s easier than we’re making it,” he mused. “Maybe it doesn’t represent something else. It’s a vase. But a special one, old. A certain ancient vase. We are talking about Luxor, Egypt, remember. The Valley of the Kings and King Tut’s tomb are right outside the city. The place is thick with ancient history. Maybe there’s a famous vase that represents the information we need. Like, where it was found, or where it’s kept now.