Poor Joe… he sleeps his way through life. That includes the need to wear a bib, as apparently he drools when he naps. Ick.
“The Gig?” What- are they in a band or something? “Onto” or “on to?” I think it’s the latter, but then I am not sure… Did Rusty and Mara go in to the Temple or into the temple? Or they simply entered the Temple… I recently caught myself saying something that I have been saying probably most of my life- a non-word… “Wholenuther,” as in, “that’s a wholenuther thing you’re talking about…” I have to laugh. It’s not a word, obviously, but I think it’s clear what I mean… Oh well.
“Unfortunate” indeed… but that’s not a word that a henchman uses… That’s more a word that the mastermind would use, whilst stroking his cat…
The Daily Trail 
OK. Having also been roused from my drooling slumber, here’s my take on the next few twists of this tale:
Joe is NOT a bad guy. Instead, he and his mysterious radio interlocutor are actually undercover customs agents, working hand in glove with Becky (and perhaps Dr. Carter?) in sussing out a cabal of smugglers of ancient artifacts plaguing the area.
Haven’t yet figured out Dirty’s role in all of this. But I suspect neither has Mr. Allen, given the long exposition we’ve been sitting through so far.
I suspect I’ve got plenty of time to fit together the rest of the puzzle . . . before the dazzling reveal!