CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“Count,” Jesse said.
Alex counted the steps out loud, “One, two, three, four, five”, turn, “one, two, three four, five.” They stopped on a landing where a long set of stairs continued straight into the darkness.
“No. Keep your count,” Jesse said.
On her left, Alex noticed a set of stairs that continued the five-stair count.
“This way,” Alex said. She pushed by Ben. Turning left, she continued down the short flights of stairs, “one, two, three, four, five,” turn, “one, two, three, four, five.”
“Jump,” Jesse said.
Alex hurled herself forward over a five-feet-wide broken landing to a step below.
“Jump, Ben,” Alex said.
“I heard him,” Ben said.
He leapt forward toward the step. Alex grabbed his waist as his feet slipped on the edge of a step. They stood for a moment, breathing hard, and holding each other. Alex turned and continued down the stairs.
“One, two, three, four, five,” turn right, “one, two, three, four, five,” turn left.
“Did they make it?” Alex asked Jesse.
“You lost one,” Jesse said.
“That’s Jesse Abreu.” Ben said.
“What is?”
Jesse stood to the side of the next landing. Alex grabbed Ben’s hand and yanked him into a limestone tunnel. As they raced through the dark, their surroundings began to change. The tunnel transitioned into well-lit, clean storage areas. Passing wine racks, storage boxes, bikes and household items, they could hear someone chasing them.
Jesse stood at the corner of a cross tunnel.
“Behind you,” he said.
Using her shoulder, Alex knocked Ben around the corner. Turning, she raised her handgun.
“Show yourself,” Alex demanded.
The figure responded by firing a weapon.
“Smith and Wesson, 38 Special,” Jesse said.
Two bullets smashed into Alex’s body armor near her heart. The force of the bullets sent her a couple of steps back. She took off running away from the shooter. Pushing Ben further down the corridor, she turned sideways and fired her handgun. The figure fell backward, shot through the forehead.
“Go,” Jesse said.
They ran down the semi-lit corridor. At another juncture of tunnels, Alex stopped to get a reading from the compass on her watch.
“Get going, lazy bones.” Jesse yelled over the sound of two pairs of feet running down a set of wooden stairs along the edge of the tunnel.
Alex turned to fight.
“Not here,” Jesse said. “Get going.”
Ben grabbed her hand and pulled her down the passageway. Pursued by the two men, they ran down the tunnel.
“This way,” Jesse said.
They turned down a poorly lit passage, where naked light bulbs, hanging from the limestone ceiling by electric wire, created bright circles of light surrounded by deep shadows.
“Now,” Jesse said.
Alex slammed Ben against the wall next to a stack of wine casks. Turning back, she dropped the duffle from her back. Two men were standing under a circle of bright light. They peered into the dark tunnel with their handguns raised.
Alex ran toward the men.
Jumping in the air, she rotated. With a powerful flying back kick, she caught a man in the upper chest. He fell backward into the hallway. Before the second man could react, Alex landed. She kicked him with a high-reverse-roundhouse kick, catching him in the face with the ball of her foot. He dropped to the ground.
The first man grabbed her by the shoulders and threw her into a rack of boxes. Pressing off the boxes, Alex raised her leg in a front kick, catching the man’s solar plexus. He dropped to the ground. Breathing hard, she stood over him expecting him to get up from the ground. The man moaned, shaking his head, and Alex punched him unconscious.
Setting the men’s weapons beside their feet, she motioned for Ben to come forward. With quick, professional motions, they removed the men’s identification and stuffed them into their pockets.
Hearing movement in the tunnel, Alex jumped up to assess the danger.
“This way,” Jesse said.
He pointed to a tunnel, less than three feet wide, cut into the limestone. Alex moved a large box out of the way and pulled Ben into the tunnel. Once he was in the tunnel, she covered the tunnel entrance with the large box.
Holding the duffle in one hand, she mimicked Ben’s sideways motion through the tight passageway. Within forty feet, they reached a four-foot wall of human femurs. Ben stepped over the wall. Alex passed him the duffle bag and stepped over the wall. They stood in an open passageway surrounded by the bones of fourteenth century plague victims. Alex threw the duffle bag on her shoulders, and they took off running. They passed human femurs stacked in a perfect five-foot wall adorned with a cross made from human skulls. Continuing straight forward, they threaded their way through rooms filled to the ceiling with human bones.
“This way,” Ben said.
Alex followed him up a set of twenty white wooden stairs. Pulling his keys from his pocket, he unlocked the locked door at the top. He flew through the door, and Alex followed. She shut the door and turned the bolt. They went down a narrow limestone hallway, passing bolted doors, to a door near the end of the hallway. Ben unlocked the door, let Alex through, before following her inside. He used his key to relock the door. They climbed up three flights of stairs until they came to a door.
Out of breath, Ben ruffled his salt-and-pepper hair and turned to Alex.
“My in-laws’ home,” he said. Alex nodded. “You must speak French.”
“What language have we been speaking?” Alex asked.
“Spanish,” Ben said.
He pushed the door open to reveal a tidy basement. Alex took off her body armor and held her hand out for Ben’s. Pulling a cell phone from his pocket, he slipped off his body armor while he dialed the phone.
“Claire?” Ben asked into his phone. He continued in French. “Alex and I were in the tunnels and decided to visit your parents’ home. Would you mind asking Max and John to meet us here?”
Alex heard Claire’s flood of confused words.
“Yes,” Ben said. “I’m sorry. Please ask Helene to take the children home. Yes, come to your parents’ as well. I . . .”
There was another flood of words from Claire.
“I love you,” he said. Closing his phone, he turned to look at Alex. “We must clean up.”
Nodding, Alex crammed the body armor into the duffle bag.
“I don’t feel well,” Alex said. “Dizzy.”
“Do you think it’s . . .”
He fell silent when they heard footsteps above them. Alex pulled her handgun, but Ben pushed the gun down with his hand. They heard a lock click open.
“Benjamin,” a woman’s voice called from the top of the stairs.
“Yes, Noémi,” Ben replied in French. “I am here with my daughter, Alexandra. I was showing her the catacombs when I remembered that you have your own entrance.”
The woman laughed.
“Claire called. Come up. Come up.”
A small, thin woman came halfway down the stairs to greet them. She turned and led the way up the stairs. Ben followed, and Alex came last ,carrying the duffle bag.
In the light, Alex noticed the blood on her hands and jeans. Claire’s mother looked at her and raised her eyebrows.
“You’d better clean up, chérie, or no one is going to believe your story,” she said. “There is a shower in there. Give me your pants. Hurry, chérie, your family will be here in a moment. Benjamin, you can clean up in the kitchen.”
Too intimidated to argue, Alex pulled off her pants. She emptied her pockets into the duffle bag, and gave the pants to Claire’s mother. She took the duffle into the bathroom and locked the door behind her.
Leaning against the bathroom door, Alex closed her eyes and slid down to the ground. She pressed her eyes against her k
nees to keep from crying. With her arms wrapped around her knees, she held herself in a ball. She whispered the words: “My name is Alexandra Hargreaves. I’m in Paris. My brother is Maxwell. We have the same middle name, but it’s spelled differently.”
The words had no impact on the spinning sensation in her head.
Pushing herself to standing, she caught her reflection in the mirror. Her face and lips were pale, drained of all color, and her eyes were round and gleaming.
Fuck.
I’ve been drugged.
The Fey Page 23