The Carpet Cipher

by Jane Thornley

  “Let’s just say we’re an interested party. Joe, shut her up.”

  Joe marched to the wall where our prisoners sat and whacked Amira across the face with the back of his hand. When her brother started shouting at him, he was slugged on the head with the butt of his gun—some distorted sense of chivalry. The brother slumped against the wall unconscious while Amira fell silent.

  “There, much better,” June remarked.

  Now we knew what we were up against. “Who are you?” I demanded.

  “Call me June—that part is correct. Otherwise, we work for someone with vested interests—not them obviously,” she said, indicating the siblings. “You—Peaches or whatever the hell your name is—bring us the box. Joe, get the bag ready.”

  Joe strode over and I realized that he had a backpack slung over his shoulders. Keeping his gun on Peaches while June leveled hers on the rest of us with a kind of periodic wide-angled swing, he slipped the bag off, one shoulder at a time while still gripping the gun. Peaches cast Evan and me a quick look as she proceeded to lift the chest.

  “You were ready for this, weren’t you? Just waiting for us to lead you right to the treasure. How did you get to the riad before us?” I asked. I had to keep her talking, maybe distract her.

  June smiled a rictus of self-satisfaction. “We’ve had you bugged for months, listening in to your every thought, even way back in London. We’ve been tracking your every move, darling. And my, oh my, you have lived a very boring life these past few months, haven’t you? At least until recently. As soon as you hit Venice, things picked up but we had no idea you’d lead us to such a bounty as this—emerald and jewels, well, well.”

  “Bugged her how?” Evan snapped.

  “Oh, yes, the gizmo whiz. My employer uses a nifty new technology that, once inserted into an item—let’s say the inner seam of a carpetbag—is virtually undetectable even by you. And she carries that old thing everywhere, don’t you, Phoebe?”

  My traitorous bag was still in my room. How long had it been listening in on my life? At least I didn’t need to ask who had put the device there. That much I’d already figured out. I felt sick. “When is he coming?” I asked.

  June pulled her lips from her teeth. “Oh, you guessed—bright girl. He’s on his way.”

  “Who’s on his way?” Peaches asked standing with the chest in both hands.

  “Noel Halloren,” Evan said under his breath.

  Peaches swore. “You work for that bastard? But how? I mean, we blew that operation up in Jamaica, and when he took off we figured he’d have nothing left.”

  “Halloran has been pocketing loot for months before that while building his own operation on the side,” Evan said. “We’ve long suspected it but lacked proof.”

  June smiled, so obviously enjoying this. “Well, he does have a policy: follow Phoebe McCabe and she’ll take you to the goods every time. He calls you his lucky charm, sweetheart.”

  I swore viciously.

  “Everyone is being spied on these days, you just more intimately than most,” June said. “What, don’t tell me you thought he was smitten by your charms alone when he followed you here?”

  I didn’t actually, but it hardly mattered just then. It would be enough if I kept myself together when I saw him next. What I did before and after was all that mattered.

  “Joe, put that thing in the bag, and you, Peaches, if you do anything stupid, I’ll blow your brains out. You two, stay where you are,” June ordered. She held the gun like she meant every word but even she must have known that she was outnumbered. Besides, I had the sense that she was hired more for her disposition than her skill.

  Joe stepped forward with the bag open while Peaches went to meet him carrying the casket, mere seconds when Joe literally had his hands full. And seconds was all it took. Peaches tossed the casket at Joe while Evan and I both launched at June, Evan aiming for her legs, me at her gun arm. The gun went off, hitting the ceiling and sending June back against the tiles screaming, Evan on top of her. I raced to help Peaches, who was rolling around the floor with Joe trying to wrest the knife from her grasp. I lifted the casket and brought it down on his head, sending him to the floor in a heap and scattering jewels everywhere.

  “Damn, we’re good!” Peaches exclaimed as she pushed his limp body off her. “You’d think we orchestrated that but I would have had him in a few more seconds.”

  Meanwhile, Evan had June on her feet with her arm twisted behind her back. “We’ll tie her up,” he said.

  “I should have shot you when I had the chance,” June snarled as she attempted to kick out at him. “Big MI6 guy, are you? You’re nothing but a well-packaged hunk of shit!”

  Evan wrenched her arm a little harder. “Now, don’t go hurting my feelings, June, if that’s your name. We’ll just put you over here with the other two.”

  While he and Peaches bound her up and dragged Joe over to the wall, I busied myself picking up the scattered gems. The casket was undamaged, the emerald sides impervious to even Joe’s skull. Still, I was ashamed of myself for using a priceless work of art as a bludgeon. The things we do in desperation.

  When I next looked up, Peaches and Evan had both Joe and June tied up beside the other two and were turning back to pick up the firearms. I had just lifted the casket from the floor and set it on the table, Joe’s gun tucked into my belt, when a gunshot ripped the air. I saw Evan spin around gripping his shoulder while Peaches lunged toward the door, both stopping short at the sight of Noel’s gun.

  “Don’t make me shoot you, Peaches—we used to be friends once—but you, Ashton, you I wouldn’t hesitate to shoot again in a minute.” He lifted the gun as if to do exactly that, his eyes flashing a cold light.

  “No, Noel, don’t!” I cried, throwing myself in front of Evan.

  “Phoebe, get behind me,” Evan hissed, trying to shove me back. Blood oozed between the fingers gripping his shoulder. He’d try reaching for his gun next and Noel would kill him. That couldn’t happen.

  “No!” I ran to within three feet of Noel and stopped. “Don’t do it, Noel, don’t hurt them, please.”

  “You know my policy on that, Phoebe. Step out of the way and you, Ashton, lay the gun on the floor—now!”

  But Evan wasn’t moving and I could imagine him calculating possible next steps, none of which would end well. I kept inching toward Noel, my hands in the air. “Don’t do this, Noel, don’t turn into one of those bastards we used to talk about, the ones who’d inflict violence on anybody for greed. Don’t tell me you’ve turned into one of them!”

  “Get the fuck out of the way!” Noel cried, lunging to the left to level another shot at Evan.

  Peaches was diving for her knife and June was yelling obscenities as I rammed into Noel, sending his shot wide. But then he had me whipped around with one arm, gripping me across the chest, and the gun shoved into my temple. Everybody froze.

  I watched as Evan slowly lowered the gun to the floor.

  “Kick it toward me,” Noel ordered.

  “Don’t do it, Evan! He wouldn’t hurt me!” I cried.

  The arm bracing me tightened. “Are you so sure about that, my love?” Noel whispered into my ear. I wasn’t sure of anything anymore. Evan clearly wasn’t, either, since he kicked the gun toward him.

  “Back off, both of you. Peaches, take that knife of yours and cut the ropes on June here.” Joe was still unconscious.

  “You tink I’ll do what for you, Noel? Do you tink I’m still your little worker bee or something?” Peaches snarled.

  In answer, Noel lifted the gun higher on my temple. “Or I’ll shoot her, I said.”

  She hesitated, maybe moments too long, but then picked up the knife to do as he asked. In minutes June was back on her feet holding her hand out for the knife, which Peaches reluctantly relinquished. June then leaned over and plucked my gun from inside my waistband.

  “Now, this is what’s going to happen,” Noel said. “June, you’re going to gather up those gu
ns and then proceed to pack that casket into the backpack and then pass the bag to me. If anybody moves in the meantime, shoot them, got that? Don’t hesitate. It’s simple, really: if you have to shoot one of them, I’ll shoot Phoebe and everybody loses.”

  “Don’t worry,” June said, picking up one of the guns. “I would gladly shoot all these pains in the asses without hesitation.”

  “What in the hell happened to you, Noel?” I whispered as June went about her work. “The man I knew would never do anything this maniacally devious.” Maybe I was crying, maybe not.

  “Oh, really? How well did you know me really, Phoebe, baby? I’m the same man I’ve always been only you wanted me to be something better. I never pretended to be anything else.”

  “Oh, yeah? What about that Robin Hood of the black market crap you sold me on?” I asked.

  “That was all Toby. Your dear brother really thought he could rescue stolen art and return it to the original owners beneath the legal radar—that is, until he spun out on drugs and got lost in his own madness. I never bought into that shit.”

  “Halloren has been skimming the goods for years, Phoebe,” Evan added, watching him closely. “He’s been the real villain all along.”

  “Why didn’t you say something?” I asked him, straining against Noel’s hold. Noel just held me tighter.

  “I couldn’t,” Evan said, pain clouding his eyes.

  “He couldn’t because he’s undercover Interpol, Phoebe—haven’t you figured that out yet?” Noel said. “He and Foxy have been tracking you to get to me for years. It took the Jamaica heist for me to figure that out, too.”

  “Is that true?” I demanded.

  Evan met my eyes without flinching. “Phoebe, I deeply regret all of that, believe me.”

  “And the chauffeuring and bodyguarding bit with Foxy?” I asked.

  “All part of our cover.”

  “Our cover? You mean you and Foxy have been playing me for a fool all along?” I swore.

  “Not a fool,” he said earnestly, “but a valuable connection to a crime family who has been stealing art for years. Rupert and I are both very fond of you. Nothing there was a lie. You must believe me.”

  “Want me to shoot him for you, Phoebe?” Noel said. “My pleasure, believe me. June, what’s taking so long—hurry up, will you?” Noel called.

  June scurried back with the bag in her hand, the gun still trained on Peaches. “Here you go, boss. I took two diamonds as part of our payment. It’s not like you pay us enough or anything.”

  But I couldn't take my eyes off Evan.

  “Yeah, sure, sure. You do this right and I’ll wire you a bonus. Put it on my shoulder and watch the rest of them while we take off.”

  “Even her?” She indicated me with a flick of the gun.

  “No, not her. She’s coming with me. As for the others: if Peaches moves, shoot her.”

  That snapped my attention back. “Me coming with you? Are you crazy? I’m not going to be your hostage.”

  But then everything happened so fast. Noel fired his gun and Evan collapsed to the floor. Peaches screamed and June yelled at her to be quiet while I was being steered out the door by Noel. And I went, anger and panic burning so deep that all I could think of was how to get this bastard. Play along.

  “Okay, Noel, I’m coming with you,” I told him as he marched me out the front door of the riad and down the narrow street. “I’m not fighting you so stop twisting my arm.”

  He released me but kept the gun pressed into my back as he hurried me along. Dawn was just pushing a sharp band of light into the sky over the medina and the air felt heartbreakingly chill. We carried on without speaking until we turned another corner to a narrow street where one of the parked cars winked its lights in greeting.

  I didn’t know what to expect but not this. “A getaway car? Are you serious?”

  “Just get in, Phoebe,” he said.

  He opened the door and shoved me into the passenger seat, dropping the bag on my lap. “If you don’t do as I say, June will shoot Peaches—that’s the deal. It’s you or her.” He pitched his voice louder. “June, you hear me?”

  “Coming in loud and clear, boss,” June’s voice crackled from somewhere under his jacket. A wire.

  “Keep the gun on Peaches. If I say shoot her, shoot.”

  “Got it, boss.”

  I looked up at his shadowed face. “Bastard! I’ll come with you, I said.”

  “Good, so no attempts to jump out or try anything more creative. I know how creative you can be.”

  “Ask her how Evan’s doing,” I asked.

  “How’s Evan doing, June?”

  Crackle. Crackle. “Losing a lot of blood. Should bleed out soon.”

  “Why did you have to shoot him?” I cried.

  “Why do you think, Phoebe?” he said while climbing into the driver’s seat and pealing us down the street, narrowly missing a mule piled with carpets. “Shoot them while you have the chance or they’ll come after you every time. Once I found out he was undercover Interpol, I wished I’d shot him sooner. Foxy will be next. You should thank me. They’ve been using you to get to Toby and me for years.”

  “Damn you all to hell!”

  “That’s my girl. Fasten your seat belt now. We have a long ride ahead of us.”

  All I could do was swear at him at first while churning away inside. Admittedly, my brain was not functioning optimally.

  “Oh, come on now, Phoebe, not that tired old expletive. You can do better than that.”

  The thought of Evan dying when all I wanted was to scream at the man for hoodwinking me for so long was one thing, but being in the company of Noel again was something else. My heart was a mess, my mind worse. “You goddamn hunk of stinking twisted assholean chicken shit!”

  “Assholean chicken shit—almost has an Oxfordian flare. Better, but not up to your usual standards. Just so you know, you were absolutely right back there: I would never harm a hair on your head. Never have, never will. I don’t care if you believe it or not but I love you.”

  “You call kidnapping me, shooting my friends, stealing a treasure you know I went to a lot of trauma to retrieve all while spying on me…love?”

  “Oh, Phoebe, come on. Your friends are all working against my enterprise—fair’s fair. You are, too, but you my heart puts in protective custody. Come on, admit you still love me just a little. I’m still the lovable rogue you fell for years ago.”

  “I hate you,” I spat.

  “Flip side of the love/hate continuum—better than ambivalence any day. I’ll take it.”

  More expletives followed on my part. It seemed as though my ability to communicate in full sentences had gone. It took several miles of driving into a brilliant desert sunrise before I calmed down. “Where are you taking me and why in hell do you expect to get away with this?” I said as I sat slumped back in the seat, numb with pain. “Do you really think I’m going to play your mol and go dashing off on the run with you?”

  He squinted into the rising sun and flipped down the visor. “Forgot my bloody sunnies. No, I’m not going to try dragging you on the run with me, don’t worry. You’d only slow me down, and cause me a piss-load of trouble besides. No, Phoebe, my love, I’m taking you only as far as I need to get away from Interpol before the troops come flying in this morning. You were my ticket out of the riad without having to shoot Peaches. I’ve got my getaway all planned, don’t worry. My organization is far more extensive than anything I had established with Toby. Even you’d be impressed, methinks. Also, I don’t want it to end like this between us. Cutting me loose has left me gutted. I’d hoped we could end things on a brighter note.”

  “What do you mean I cut you loose? You’ve been loose from the day we met. I’ve been your lead to the next heist all along, you (insert colorful expletive) butt-licking bastard!”

  He whistled between his teeth. “Now, that was an interesting one, but for the record, I did follow you as much to keep you safe as anythin
g else. That’s how it began, honestly. I wanted to see you again, hold you in my arms, kiss you and more—always more. Our mores were something else, weren’t they? We’ve had some—hell, makes me hot just thinking about it—wild times. Remember that night on the roof in Cappadocia? Anyway, I was late grappling on to the value of what you were after. When I saw the Moroccan family tailing you in Venice, I realized the stakes must be higher than I thought so I began to dig around.”

  “And you discovered that there was a valuable hoard buried inside the riad.”

  “Thanks to you, yes, exactly. The Moroccan family got in my way once or twice, but shit, they were such amateurs that you and Peaches easily took care of them—nice work, by the way. And then I spent a few days digging around Marrakech and discovered that a sultan, Abu Abd Allah al-Burtuquali Muhammad, ruler of the Wattasid dynasty, struck up some kind of an alliance with a wealthy Jewish Berber family back in the day, the details of which are obscured by time.”

  “It may even have been an enlightened union of individuals from three religions.”

  “You always were a romanticist, Phoebe; it’s one of the many things I love about you. Whatever the case, something empowered the Jews to the secrete the sultan’s riches against political upheaval—who knows? Those guys had enemies like you wouldn’t believe. It’s all wrapped up in folklore locally and well worth listening to if you ever get the chance. Anyway, how exactly a sultan’s hoard gets buried under the floor of a Jewish family’s home may never be fully known, but thanks to you, the treasure itself has been retrieved.”

  I gazed down at the backpack. “And is about to be lost to the world again. This is significant, Noel, important far beyond the monetary value of its contents. This casket is embedded with symbols celebrating unity among religions instead of the bloody divisions. Doesn’t that mean anything to you? It needs protecting! The world needs to see treasures like this for what they are—humanity’s attempt to rise above the bloodshed and worship universal good!” Okay, so I was crying again.

  “You really care about that stuff, don’t you?"

  “I thought you did, too. I thought we understood one another, fought for the same things! What about the archaeologist’s creed?”