The Lost Tomb

by N. J. Croft

  She was right.

  He’d needed to be here because he’d told Noah the truth. He would make sure Harper was safe. Noah had sounded terrible on their last call. The whole thing had clearly taken a toll on him, which was hardly surprising.

  Michaela had promised the girl was fine and would remain that way, whatever happened. Still, he couldn’t quiet the niggling doubt. She had become so focused over the last few years and ruthless in pursuit of her ultimate goal.

  The news that Noah had the location of the tomb had come as an enormous relief. Michaela would stick to her part of the bargain—that’s how she worked. She would hand Harper back to her father in exchange for the location, and things could go back to the way they were. He would be rid of the awful burn of guilt that made him examine what he had become. He didn’t like it.

  Finding the tomb and the Talisman, fulfilling the prophecy. He’d begun to wonder if those didn’t matter more to Michaela than the rest of the plan. A united empire that would span the globe. A chance for a unified world, with unprecedented peace and prosperity. A world without bias or prejudice.

  That’s how she had persuaded him all those years ago, and he’d wanted to believe her, because he’d always been a man who needed a cause. And he was in love with the passion she held for her vision of the future as much as with the woman herself. He’d wanted to be part of that.

  Now he was forty-six and felt much older. The fires of his youth had burned out along the way, leaving a taste of ashes in his mouth and an empty space in his heart.

  For years, he’d been finding it harder and harder to see through the blood and killings, but he was too far in now to back out. That wasn’t an option. Besides, he still believed in her.

  The world would forget the killings. Maybe he would as well, given long enough.

  The one person he suspected would not forget was Noah.

  Noah would never understand that sometimes the end did justify the means.

  God, he was tired.

  It would all be over in a few days, and their new world would finally be here. Except he was beginning to suspect that it would be just more of the same old shit. Humans were fundamentally flawed.

  He pulled up in front of the hotel and switched off the engine. He’d sent Noah a text as he was leaving the airport, so he was expected. He just needed to give himself another moment to erase the guilt from his face before he faced his nephew.

  Noah was bright, and he knew Peter too well. He would see straight away that something was wrong. Finally, when he couldn’t put it off any longer, he got out of the car, handed the keys to the valet, and headed through the revolving doors into the reception area.

  He glanced around, his gaze settling almost immediately on Noah’s tall figure where he stood by the elevators. He walked over then stopped about a foot away, studying his nephew’s face, not trying to hide the shock. “What the hell happened?”

  He looked worse than when Peter had gotten him out of that Russian jail cell. Clearly, his nose had been broken recently, and new bruises were forming across his face. A deep cut bisected his left eyebrow. And there was the shadow of older bruises across his cheekbone.

  “I’ll tell you everything, but let’s get somewhere more private first.” Without waiting for an answer, Noah turned around and pressed the elevator button. The doors opened, and he stepped inside. For a moment, Peter hesitated, alarm bells ringing. Then he shook off the feeling—of course Noah felt off. His daughter had been kidnapped and he’d clearly been through some sort of trauma.

  They got off on the fifth floor. Noah stopped in front of a door, put in a keycard, and stepped back to allow Peter to enter first. Peter looked into his face and knew in that moment that he’d made a huge strategic mistake. He glanced down the corridor, thought about making a run for it, then back at Noah.

  He didn’t say anything, just gave a small smile and gestured into the room. “We need to talk.”

  Peter took a deep breath then nodded, and with a sense of fatalism—maybe he’d always expected his secret life to catch up with him in the end—he stepped into the room.

  He sensed a presence beside him. Before he could turn around, something swiped his legs out from under him, and he dropped to his knees. A kick in the center of his back sent him crashing to the carpeted floor. Pale cream and pink roses. Instinctively, his hands went beneath him to push himself up, and someone slammed into his back, hard, the weight driving him to the floor and keeping him there.

  He relaxed his muscles.

  A minute later, the pressure lessened, and whoever was kneeing him in the spine got off him. He didn’t move, waiting for someone to speak.

  “Get up,” Noah said.

  Peter pushed himself slowly to his feet. He took an internal inventory; he wasn’t damaged. He hoped that was a good sign.

  Maybe Noah didn’t know. Maybe he just suspected that Peter had been involved in the death of his wife. The kidnapping of his daughter. He knew Noah had trust issues—hardly surprising after his childhood—just as he also knew that he’d always had Noah’s trust. And his love. Noah was the son he and Michaela would never have.

  Noah stood just inside the door, tension in every line of his body.

  Another man stood by the bed, a pistol in his hand pointed at Peter. While he’d never actually met the man, he recognized his face. Zach Martin, an MI6 agent, and a thorn in Michaela’s side for a long time. He’d been cut loose by his own people but somehow managed to elude every attempt to eliminate him.

  “Hands in the air.”

  He raised his hands, and Noah moved behind him, frisking him quickly but efficiently, finding his cell phone. He had nothing else on him. “I’m not armed,” he said.

  Zach smiled. “Excuse me if I’m a little skeptical. You’ve clearly managed to successfully lie to the people closest to you for most of your life, so I’ll not take any chances.”

  Peter shrugged. He was right.

  Noah finished and stepped back. “Sit.”

  Zach gestured with the gun to an upright chair beside a polished wooden table. As he sat, Noah yanked his wrists behind him and tied them with something around the back of the chair. “There’s no need,” he said.

  “Maybe I just want to do it.”

  He could understand that. “What now?”

  “That depends on how much you’re willing to tell us.”

  “You’d torture me?” Noah had never condoned the use of torture.

  “I won’t. But I suspect I know someone who will.” He turned and called out. “Eve.”

  What the hell?

  The bathroom door opened, and Eve walked through. Peter just stared, and then a slow smile spread across his face. He had really never considered this possibility. While he’d always known they hadn’t killed her, it had never occurred to him that someone else hadn’t. “You’re alive.”

  She didn’t return his smile. At first he thought her face was devoid of expression, then he looked into her eyes. Pure rage.

  “Where’s Harper? Where’s my fucking daughter?”

  Up until that point, he’d been considering his options, whether to deny any accusations thrown his way. He doubted very much that Noah had any actual proof. Now that possibility seeped away, leaving him tired and empty. The truth was he’d been battling feelings of defeat and futility since the moment Noah had told him that Harper had been kidnapped. His own niece. He’d thought Michaela cared for him in some strange weird way. That, on some level, he had meant something to her.

  Now he knew how little he really meant.

  That she would take his niece. Cause suffering to someone she knew he cared deeply for. Though, of course Michaela didn’t like her people to have any other loyalties apart from her. This was probably a test.

  If so, he suspected he was about to fail.

  “I don’t know,” he
said. “But I believe she’s alive and unharmed.”

  “They sent me her goddamn finger,” Noah said.

  Shock crashed through him. Michaela had said the girl wouldn’t be harmed. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I’m goddamn sure. I saw a video.”

  Peter closed his eyes for a moment and focused on his breathing. His back ached where the knee had jabbed into his spine. He concentrated on that because it was easier than thinking about someone chopping off his niece’s finger. Too bad he couldn’t get the image out of his head.

  This was a pivotal moment in his life. He could see that now. The last years had been leading up to this point. He took a deep breath, opened his eyes. “I’m sorry. I promise I didn’t know. I had no clue it was planned until Noah told me she’d been taken.”

  “And you expect us to believe that would have made a difference?” Eve asked, incredulously. “Or that it would have been okay if it had been someone else? Someone else’s niece or daughter that you took from her family and mutilated?”

  She turned away, obviously unable to look at him any longer.

  Would it have made a difference? The truth was, to him it would, but could he have shifted Michaela from her chosen path once she’d made a decision? A long time ago, maybe, but he had very little sway with her these days. No one did. She went her own way, and somewhere along the line she’d lost any form of compassion. Lost the ability to see the human race as individual people, just pawns to be used and then ruled. Collateral damage. She was obsessed with finding the tomb, and while he now understood the reason, it was still a part of her vision that he had never really sympathized with.

  And he was no better than her. Worse maybe because he didn’t have her absolute belief.

  He could see now that Michaela had distanced herself from the harsher acts. He knew that she’d been responsible for the recent attack in Germany. Over ten thousand people had died, many of them children. She’d never asked him to be directly involved—she’d always been good at judging people. Knowing their strengths and their weaknesses. Maybe she’d known that he wouldn’t have been able to stomach the actual killing. He was a soldier, and he’d killed before. That was different.

  He’d become so good at turning a blind eye.

  She’d told him to stay focused on the end game. These weren’t acts of terrorism; they were legitimate strategic attacks on the enemy that would be forgotten in the years to come. How many more would die if the world was allowed to continue on its way, divided by race and religion? In her unified empire, minority groups would be supported, all religions accepted.

  The only rule would be allegiance to the new order.

  Shit. When had it all gone wrong? He looked around the room. Eve still stood with her back to him, hands on her hips, shoulders rigid. Zach Martin leaned against the wall, the gun no longer in sight. He appeared relaxed, though he didn’t have the personal involvement of the other two. Noah stood to his left. He’d been staring out of the window; now he turned and caught Peter’s gaze on him.

  “I’m sorry,” Peter said, because he was.

  Eve whirled around. “Sorry isn’t good enough. You have to help us get her back. You have to.”

  He glanced away. During his life, he’d betrayed everyone and everything. His country, his family, his men. He didn’t expect forgiveness. And this was just one last betrayal.

  What would they do if he said no? Torture him? Looking at Eve, so fierce, he thought it likely. She’d changed. The last time he’d seen her, she’d been diminished, suffering the lingering effects of PTSD he’d believed she would never recover from. Yet here she was, willing to do whatever was necessary to get her daughter back.

  He thought of Michaela. She’d been unable to have children. It had been a bitter blow, and maybe that was when she changed. There would be no one to follow her. The next leader would be taken from the Descendants. They were probably already jockeying for power. Maybe that was when the hunt for the Talisman had taken over. She had to prove that she was the legitimate heir.

  Noah moved to stand in front of him. “Can you get her back?”

  Could he? Neither he nor Michaela knew where she was right now, but maybe there was a way. First, he needed to know one thing. “Do you have the location of the tomb?”

  Noah pursed his lips, maybe deciding whether to tell him the truth or a lie. Then he shook his head. “No.”

  Shock reverberated through him. He’d been so sure that part was true. Instead, it was just a lie to get him here. “So it was never found?” He asked the question of Eve.

  “We found it and then lost it again. Or, rather, Star found it. The real Star. I just showed her where to look and what to look for. I was given a shape and dimensions of an object they believed to be buried with Genghis Khan. It was distinctive and made of wood. It showed clearly on the high-definition satellite images.” She sank down onto the bed, the strength seeming to go out of her. “It was all I ever wanted. The culmination of all my work, and I wish to hell I’d never started looking.” She cast him an accusatory glare. “Did your people kill Star?”

  He was beyond lies or prevarication. “I believe so.”

  “And torture her?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Jesus. How could you be part of that?”

  It was a good question. And one he didn’t have an answer for. Or not one she would accept. That he’d wanted to be part of something bigger, something important. And Michaela was huge. Larger than life. A living legend. He forced his mind away—because even now, he could feel her pull—and back to the problem of how to get Harper out alive. They didn’t have the location of the tomb, so the swap was not going to happen. If they got to that point and Michaela realized she’d been played, there was a good chance they would all die. He couldn’t think of a way they could get to the swap and still come out alive—she had too many resources. So they couldn’t let it get that far.

  Yet if Noah told her that he had the location and wanted to make the trade, they would have to bring Harper here.

  After he did this, he was a dead man. Michaela wasn’t vindictive. She might be ruthless, but she didn’t kill without reason. She would let Noah go—he had never given his allegiance. She wouldn’t look on it as a betrayal.

  Peter, she would hunt down to the ends of the earth.

  It didn’t matter. He deserved this. Looking back, he tried to pinpoint the moment when he should have turned back. When he should have realized he wasn’t part of something bigger, he was part of something evil. One of the bad guys. Noah would have known. From an early age, he’d always been able to tell right from wrong. Peter had always considered it naive. Likely because in some part of his conscience, he’d always known he was “wrong.”

  “Peter?” Noah prompted.

  He forced his mind to concentrate on the problem. He would do this one thing. Maybe gain himself a little redemption. It was good he didn’t believe in Heaven or Hell. “Make contact,” he said. “Tell them you have the location of the tomb and want to make the exchange. But first you want proof of life—that would be expected.”

  “You’re sure she is alive?” Eve asked.

  “Fairly certain.” He couldn’t say 100 percent. They’d cut off her finger. Jesus. “It would have been pointless to kill her. She’s useful.”

  “So what happens next? We don’t have the location. We can’t make the trade.”

  “They’ll have to bring her into the country. We’ll find out where and when, and we’ll take her back. Then you’ll disappear. You’ll get the hell away from here. Soon, Michaela will be too busy to worry about you.”

  Noah shook his head. “You really think we’re going to let the summit go down?”

  “You can’t stop it.”

  “Maybe I can’t, but you can. You have a direct line to the president. You’re going to tell him everything. Once he pul
ls out, then the rest will follow.”

  Would it work? Probably. Though it would be a temporary respite. “While you might stop the summit, you won’t stop them. They’re too big. You have no idea of the resources they control.”

  “You do. And you’re going to tell us everything you know.” Noah turned away, crossed the room, and spoke quietly to Zach. The other man glanced between them all, then he nodded. He pulled the gun from the back of his pants and handed it to Eve, and then he left the room.

  Maybe he would tell them. Or maybe he would take the coward’s way out and find some way to end his life before he betrayed the woman he still loved. Or before she killed him. Or he killed her—that was the other option. He was maybe the one man who could do it, who could get close enough. First he had to help them rescue Harper. Anything else wasn’t an option.

  Noah came back to stand in front of him. “You can get the information as to where Harper will be?”

  “I think so. Michaela will already know I’m here. I’ll contact her—tell her the truth, that when you found the location, you asked me to come as back up to look after my niece if anything happened to you. I’ll tell her that as I’m already here, I can organize the trade from this side. Make sure the girl gets there safely. She’ll believe me. She is aware I wasn’t…happy with what was happening.”

  “You mean the kidnapping and mutilation of your niece?”

  He winced. “Yes.”

  “You think the senator still trusts you?”

  “I believe so. We extract Harper as soon as she’s in the country. We’ll need to be fast. Take out the team before they can report back. Hopefully, that will buy you time to get away with Harper.” He looked to Eve, who was perched on the edge of the bed, the pistol on her lap, chewing her nonexistent nails. “I’ll organize a plane back to England. You pick up your other two children and just disappear.”

  Eve nodded. He was guessing disappearing appealed right now. She wouldn’t be the problem. He suspected Noah might not be so agreeable. While Eve had spent most of her adult life hunting for Genghis Khan, Noah—while he might not have been aware of it—had spent most of his life hunting for Michaela. Even when he knew nothing of the existence of the Descendants, he’d known that there was someone at the center of it all. It was uncanny how close his ideas had come to the truth. He suspected Noah wouldn’t let it go. He’d want to end it. But it was futile. All he could hope was Noah’s need to keep his family safe would supersede his wish to finally trap his spider. It was a gamble—Noah had always found it easier to walk away from the people he loved than to walk away from his enemies.