The Lost Tomb

by N. J. Croft

  Why had she gotten on that plane to Mongolia the next day without the image? Had she memorized the coordinates? Maybe she hadn’t wanted any physical evidence. Maybe it was her way of ensuring they kept her alive. If so, it hadn’t worked.

  A door clanged, and he glanced up. He didn’t think it was mealtime, and he jumped to his feet, crossed to the front of the cell, and peered out. Pozniak strolled along the corridor, and he wasn’t alone. Noah closed his eyes for a moment as relief flooded his system.

  He stepped back as the door opened.

  His uncle was dressed in civilian clothes, and Noah had never been so pleased to see anyone in his entire life. He stood in the open doorway and looked Noah up and down. “You need a shave. You look like shit.”

  “Yeah, thanks to this asshole.” He nodded to where Pozniak stood off to the side. The other man just laughed.

  Bastard.

  “Let’s get you out of here,” Peter said.

  “I can go?” He addressed the question to Pozniak.

  He shrugged. “I have been assured that a terrible mistake has been made and keeping you longer could trigger an international incident.”

  “And you don’t have anything on me,” he guessed.

  “I have an unlicensed gun taken from your hotel room and a false passport.”

  “Can I have them back?”

  “No.”

  Peter shook his head. “Do we need to do any paperwork?”

  “No, he’s cleared to go. Just get him out of here and preferably out of the country.”

  “Good. Here are your things.” He handed Noah a bag. It contained his watch—it was just after seven in the morning—and little else. Most of his stuff had been left in the hotel room.

  He followed the two men down the corridor, his mind whirling with what to do next. He wanted to talk to Peter, but he’d been told not to talk to anyone, and he didn’t want the conversation to be observed. While he doubted anyone would be watching the police station, maybe they would have spies at the hotel. He just didn’t know what he was dealing with.

  As they came out onto the street, he took a breath of fresh air then looked around him. Was anyone watching? He could see nothing out of place, but then on a busy street, it would be hard to tell.

  “Can we go somewhere to talk?” he said.

  “Of course. I’m at the Marriott,” Peter said. “We can walk there. I’m amazingly interested to discover how you got yourself thrown into a Russian jail. I taught you better than that.”

  There were numerous answers he could have given. Probably the most accurate was that he’d slept with a woman he had no right to sleep with and let his guard down and paid the price. Though maybe sleeping with her was irrelevant and it would have gone down the same either way. Maybe the sex—which had been amazingly good—was his consolation prize for being a complete fucking dickhead.

  So instead, he shoved his hands in his pockets and set off.

  They walked the ten minutes to the Marriott in silence. As they crossed the reception area, he spoke again. “Can we talk in the bar?” He’d rather not go to Peter’s room. Rooms could be bugged, but it was unlikely anyone would bug the public areas.

  Peter cast him a thoughtful glance then nodded. “Though looking like that, they might refuse to serve you.”

  The bar was quiet, and they found a corner booth. Noah ordered a coffee and a sandwich. His stomach was in knots, but he needed to eat. Then he sat back, closed his eyes, and allowed the tension to drain from him. He had to think clearly, and his anger was clouding his mind. He waited until the waiter had brought their drinks, and then he opened his eyes. He picked up his coffee, took a sip, and forced the words out. “Someone took Harper.”

  Peter’s eyes widened. “What?”

  “Three nights ago. Stacey called me the following morning. They knocked out the guard on duty and took her from her room.”

  “Why? Have you heard anything?”

  “Just a text saying not to talk to anyone and they’d be in touch. That was just before the police arrived.” He hoped his phone was still in his hotel room. He needed to get back there, find out what they wanted in exchange for his daughter. Then he had to work out how he could get it.

  “You can’t talk about this to anyone,” Noah continued. “They can’t know I told you.” He hadn’t made the decision lightly, but he trusted Peter. And if something happened to Noah, then he needed someone who would go after Harper.

  “Of course not.” His uncle seemed shaken by the news, but then he was fond of Harper. “I can’t believe this. What the hell was Eve involved in?”

  “I don’t know.” Though he was starting to have a few ideas. Something occurred to him. “Did Pozniak contact you?”

  “Who?”

  “The Russian investigator who arrested me. Is that how you knew where I was?”

  “No. I was trying to get hold of you. I uncovered some information that I thought you should know about. When I couldn’t get you, I dug a little deeper and eventually found you. Not where I was expecting to. You want to share why you were arrested?”

  “I might have pissed Pozniak off. And that was your teaching. You told me to push until I got answers. He was the lead investigator on Eve’s accident. I may have hinted he took bribes, and I guess it pissed him off a little. When he got the chance for payback, he took it.” Which reminded him—who had made the anonymous call to the police? He was guessing Star, but was there any way to find out? “So what did you discover?”

  “I think I was wrong and there’s a good chance that Eve’s death was no accident.”

  Well, that wasn’t news. “Go on.”

  “A week before she was killed, Eve was at a hospital in Ulaanbaatar.”

  “Why? Was she injured?”

  “She was admitted on the first of June with a bullet wound to the right side.”

  “Bullet wound? Someone shot her?” He struggled to wrap his brain around the idea.

  “It would seem that way.”

  Why was he so surprised? Someone had murdered her only a few days later. Was it the same people? Had they finished the job? “Police reports?”

  “There were none. It would seem there was some…government interference. The police were asked not to pursue the investigation. A matter of national security, apparently. According to the records, she was in the hospital until the seventh of June when she was booked on a flight to London. She never made the flight.”

  “Instead she turned up dead in Russia.”

  “Maybe Russia was incidental. Maybe she just needed to get out of Mongolia and this was where she ended up. I had a look at the transport links. You can take a train from Ulaanbaatar to Irkutsk.”

  That would have appealed to her. Maybe she had just wanted somewhere to lay low while she worked with Star. Then she headed back to Mongolia once she had the information she needed.

  “Did you find what you were looking for here?” Peter asked. “What were you looking for, anyway? What did you expect to find?”

  Noah sipped his coffee while he thought about how to answer. How much to say and how much to keep back. “I was working with a woman called Sara Riley—also known as Star.” Peter’s eyes flickered at that. He knew something. Noah kept going. “Star is a space archaeologist who worked with Eve. She sent her an image the day before Eve died. A couple of days later, there was an attempt on her life, and she went into hiding. She saved my life, and we decided to work together. Star was scared. She couldn’t go back until she worked out who was trying to kill her and why. I needed to know why Eve was dead. We had a common cause.”

  “Where is she now?”

  “She disappeared just before I was arrested.”

  Peter reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He flicked through the images then showed a picture to Noah. A woman with blonde hair and ring
in the side of her nose. She was also dead and on a slab in a morgue somewhere. Her head was turned slightly from the camera, and he could make out a tattoo on the side of her neck. A star. He’d never seen her before in his life.

  Something churned in his stomach. He had an idea he wasn’t going to like what came next. “Who is she?” he asked.

  “Her name is Elizabeth Parker, also known as Star in the world of space archaeology, where apparently she’s quite famous. Sound familiar?”

  “What happened to her?”

  “She was found dead on June the eighth. In a warehouse close to where she lived in London. The autopsy showed she died of a heart attack, likely induced by torture. The bones in her right hand had all been broken. Her apartment was burned out, her computer equipment stolen.” He looked into Noah’s face and raised a brow. “So whoever you’ve been with for the last few days, it wasn’t ‘Star.’”

  He’d been played. And he was guessing by an expert.

  He stared at the dead woman then remembered the moment he’d seen the tattoo on Star’s neck, and everything had seemed so obvious. Like taking candy from a fucking baby. He hadn’t even questioned who she was.

  Not even after she’d disappeared.

  He tried to think back over their interactions. Was there anything he should have picked up on? Everything she had done and said had seemed so…believable. Right from the moment they’d met.

  “Well?” Peter prompted.

  “She saved my life.” Another reason he hadn’t questioned whose side she was on. Because she had saved him—which meant she was on his side. Maybe that had been a set up and she had orchestrated those murders. Maybe even killed the men in the SUV that night. Could the woman he knew be that ruthless? Except of course the woman he’d known was nothing but a construct. She’d been undercover, playing a part. And she was fucking good.

  The parallels between the two of them were unbelievable.

  Who the hell was she?

  Could she have been responsible for Harper’s kidnapping? Not personally, but could she be working for the same people? Maybe she’d even suggested that it might work. Might give him the incentive he needed. He’d talked to her about his children. She knew how he felt.

  His anger was rising again, threatening to cloud his brain. And he needed clarity here. He slowed his breathing, waiting for the thud of his heart to calm. He couldn’t afford the self-indulgence of anger right now. Later.

  “I think you should back away from this, Noah. You’re too close. Let your old team take over. We’ll get Harper back for you.”

  He actually considered it. His team were the best. He’d worked with them for two years, and they were good. But his daughter’s life was at stake. He was the only one who could save her. This was down to him. “I can’t risk it.”

  “You have two more children.”

  Jesus. “Can you get them to safety?”

  “Of course. We’ll take them into protective custody.”

  They would be so scared. He was a complete failure as a father. He’d let them all down, but then, so had Eve. What had she allowed herself to get involved in? If he uncovered that, then hopefully, it would lead him to Harper. He needed to get back to the hotel, find out if the kidnappers had been in contact with him. What they wanted. Decide whether there was a way he could give it to them. He had an idea it was tied in with the image they’d found in the safety deposit box. In which case he was shit out of luck, because the image had gone, along with Star, whoever the fuck she was.

  Which meant he’d have to find her.

  He didn’t even have a picture. If he’d had, he could have gotten Peter to run it through the facial recognition software and he might have come up lucky. Maybe there was something from the airport. “Could you check airport security surveillance when we left the U.K.? See if you can get a picture of my Star.”

  “Of course, send me the flight details.”

  “I will.”

  What a crappy mess. He stood up. “I have to go. You’ll check in on the children?”

  “Of course. But I wish you would rethink this.”

  “I can’t.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  He thought about getting a taxi, but in the end, he walked. He needed to clear his head.

  Who the hell was she?

  Had anything she said been the truth? It seemed unlikely.

  He was almost back at his hotel when he became aware he was being followed. The tail was obvious, and he was pretty sure they weren’t trying to hide. He didn’t want to turn around and look in case he frightened them away. Right now, he was fresh out of leads and he’d talk to anyone.

  He walked on until he came to a pedestrianized alley that ran between two blocks of buildings. Taking a sharp right, he took cover in a deep doorway a few feet from the street.

  Soft footsteps approached. He waited, his gut tingling, his senses alert.

  As the man drew level, his pace slowed. Noah stepped out.

  He recognized his stalker instantly.

  Zachary Martin. Rogue MI6 agent.

  He’d been with Eve in Mongolia and was reported to have been in Russia the night she was murdered.

  Noah whirled around, kicking the other man in the chest, sending Martin crashing to the ground. Martin was fast, though, and he rolled to his feet, holding his hands up in surrender, but Noah was unarmed and couldn’t take the chance his opponent would pull a gun on him at the first opportunity.

  Besides, this was what he needed. What he’d wanted since he’d woken up and found Star gone and his life had turned to complete shit. He lashed out with his fist and caught Martin on the chin, the force of the blow sending him backward.

  His eyes narrowed on Noah, then he swiveled and caught him in the ribs with a solid kick that sent him stumbling. Noah righted himself and swiped the other man’s legs from under him. Grabbing his shirt, they both went down together, rolling on the ground. For a moment, Noah was on top, and he got in a good punch to the other man’s face. Then somehow their positions were swapped and Noah was on his back, staring at the strip of blue sky between the tall buildings. An arm was wedged across his throat, cutting off his breathing, black spots dancing before his eyes. Pushing with all his strength, he ignored the sharp pain shooting through his shoulder. He managed to get his knees up between them, shoved hard, and tore the man’s grip free, throwing off his weight and rolling to his feet in one smooth move.

  He lunged forward then stopped.

  His opponent lay on his back on the ground, a gun in his outstretched hand, aimed straight up at Noah’s chest. Noah growled and took a step closer.

  “Don’t.”

  He gritted his teeth but held himself still.

  “Do you remember me?” the man asked.

  He nodded. “Did you kill my wife?”

  “Ex-wife. And no. I didn’t kill Eve.”

  Did he believe him? He had no clue. That was a pretty familiar feeling these days. “Do you know who did?”

  “Maybe.”

  Noah forced his tense muscles to relax. “What do you want with me?”

  “To talk. I think we’re on the same side here.”

  “Which side is that?”

  He grinned. “The side of the bloody righteous. And as a sign of good faith…” He lowered the gun then turned it in his hand and offered it grip first to Noah.

  Noah looked at it for a moment then took it, shoved it down the back of his pants, and held out his hand. Zach grasped it, and Noah pulled him to his feet.

  “Thanks,” Zach said. “Did you know you’re bleeding?”

  Noah glanced down at his shoulder. He could make out the dark stain of blood against the dirty blue of his T-shirt. Looked like something had torn. He shrugged. “I’ll live.”

  “Yes, but for how long?”

  There w
as that question again. “Why were you following me?”

  “I told you—we need to talk.”

  “So talk.”

  “Not here. I need a drink. There’s a bar close by.”

  Part of him wanted to ignore the man—he needed to get back to the hotel, find out if Harper’s kidnappers had contacted him—but he couldn’t afford to ignore any potential source of information right now. At the same time, he wasn’t sure that his room wouldn’t be watched or bugged or both. So he nodded. “Lead the way.”

  The bar was directly opposite the hotel, and either it opened early or hadn’t closed for the night. He followed Zach inside. Zach waved him to a table by the window and then headed to the bar. He came back a minute later with a couple of bottles of beer and handed one to Noah.

  He didn’t sit straight away. Instead, he went to stand by the window and stare out at the hotel across the road. He turned to Noah. “Eve called me from this bar—probably this exact spot—the night she was killed.”

  Shock coursed through him. He’d been about to take a mouthful of beer; now he put the bottle down. “Why?”

  “She thought her life was in danger. Someone was waiting for her outside the hotel, and she believed they wanted to kill her.”

  “Why would she think that?”

  “Because they’d already tried once before. And failed. She presumed they were back to finish the job.”

  Noah thought back to what Peter had said. Eve had been treated for a bullet wound at a hospital in Mongolia. “Was he the one who shot her?”

  Zach smiled. “No. That was somebody else. Popular woman, your ex-wife. I liked her, you know. I liked her a lot. It took guts to come out here and do what she did.”

  “You know about the PTSD?”

  “I know.”

  “So what changed? Why did she come?”

  Zach ran a hand through his hair, a look of…regret flashing across his face. “Because I asked her to.”

  “Tell me.”