by Alex Archer
As if to prove his point, Claire called, “What’s the matter, Richard. Didn’t expect to see me again so soon?”
Richard grimaced and stepped away from the scene.
“Yes, I know her,” he repeated. He sounded as if he was trying to control his temper. “Her name is Claire Dunham and she’s my former research assistant.” He glanced back at her in disgust before facing Annja again. “I fired her two years ago for pillaging artifacts from my dig and then trying to sell them on the black market. We were in England at the time and she fled the country before Interpol could get ahold of her.”
Claire called across to them, “Come now, Richard, you can’t still be angry at me. It was just a few trinkets. They didn’t sell nearly as well as the treasure I’m going to steal from you this time!”
Annja was furious, both at Claire for deceiving her in the way she had and at herself for not having checked further into Claire’s story. She’d let the other woman lead her around by the nose, all because she’d become overwhelmed by her own desire to find the lost treasure. It would have been bad enough to be overwhelmed with treasure fever, but that wasn’t what was driving her. No, she’d been a victim of her own ego, and that was especially galling.
“My apologies, Dr. Knowles. She had emails that you sent from the dig site, detailed summaries of what you’d accomplished to date—everything looked legitimate.”
Knowles had himself back under control. “It’s not your fault, Miss Creed, so please don’t blame yourself. She must have hacked my email account,” he said. “That’s the only way she could have gotten that information, because the only person it was sent to was my representative from the Science Channel, the expedition’s sponsor.”
He smiled ruefully. “When going after a treasure this big, I’ve found it best to keep my mouth shut.”
All this time Annja had been worried about another group of treasure hunters horning in on their claim and the whole time the enemy was right there with her. How stupid could she be!
Apparently very.
Claire had stopped taunting them and was deep in conversation with her two underlings. Annja didn’t trust any of them anymore and vowed to keep an eye on them. She assumed the three of them were discussing how to get out of this mess, as none of them were the type to sit down and accept the status quo without fighting back. If Marcos and Hugo could get their hands on some weapons, Annja had no doubt that they’d shoot first and ask questions later.
Annja also knew that any plan Claire came up with would no doubt not include her or Dr. Knowles and his team. That meant she would need to be ready to act at the same time Claire did or they’d be left behind to deal with the aftermath of Claire’s escape, which could be anything from increased security to reprisals against the remaining prisoners.
She had no intention of letting that happen.
A quick examination of the cell door showed her that it was merely tied shut with a thick, vinelike cord. A single blow from her sword would take care of it when the time came. They would still have to face the guards outside, never mind an entire city of people who would easily recognize them as foreigners, but she’d work that out when necessary.
One thing at a time.
Worn-out from their long trek and now satisfied that she could get them out of the cell when she needed to, Annja settled down against a nearby wall and tried to relax. Knowles told her his story—how they’d found the treasure and excavated it, how the Inca had swooped in shortly thereafter and taken them, and the treasure, captive. He introduced her to the other men and women in the cell with them, all of whom were part of his dig team. The rest, he explained, were across the hall in the cell with Claire and her hired men, along with the crew of the Sea Dancer.
Annja told him about her own journey—their encounter with the pirates, the discovery of the empty Sea Dancer, the trek to the dig site. They spent some time marveling at the Incan civilization they’d discovered and speculated that perhaps the island’s designation as a World Heritage site had done more to protect the natives’ secret than anything else. It was all conjecture, but Annja hadn’t had the time to sit down and talk with a colleague as experienced as he was in some time and she enjoyed herself, despite their surroundings.
The guards came back about three hours later, escorting two cooks who carried a large stew pot between them. At the first sign of them, the prisoners lined up single file to the left of the door, bowls in hand. Unlike those who’d been here for a bit, Annja didn’t have a bowl, so Knowles handed her his.
“Go on. Eat. I’ll get some when you’re finished.”
The stew was thick with vegetables and meat, most likely boar or something similar based on the taste. Annja didn’t have utensils and had to scoop it into her mouth with her fingers, but everyone else was eating the same way and so she didn’t mind. When she was finished, she handed the bowl to Knowles, who was just in time to get the last dregs in the pot before the guards took it away.
They talked for a bit longer before Knowles suggested they get some sleep. The guards would stay outside the cave and not bother them until morning, but when the sun came up they were expected to start their shift in the mine and they’d need all their strength to make it through the day.
With thoughts of digging for gold dancing through her head, Annja laid down and tried to get some rest.
* * *
A NOISE BROUGHT ANNJA out of her sleep.
She laid still for a moment, eyes closed so as not to give herself away, and listened. She didn’t hear anything at first and then the sound resumed. It was rhythmic, a back-and-forth sawing sound that was coming from the cell across the hall.
Claire!
Annja quietly rose and waited for her eyes to adjust. The braziers had burned down to little more than hot coals, bathing the cavern in a faint red light. Once she was confident she could see the others sleeping on the floor before her, she made her way through them on catlike feet to the door of the cell, where she crouched down and stared across the hall.
She was able to make out the darker shape of someone standing just inside the door to the other cell. The sound was louder here, and when she focused on it Annja could see something flashing dully in a repetitive pattern near the edge of the cell door.
Someone was sawing through the bindings that were holding the cell door shut.
Where had they gotten the knife?
Annja thought about it for a moment and concluded that it must have been hidden on Claire somewhere. The men had both been frisked when they’d been captured but the Incas had left Annja and Claire alone. Cultural blindness, she guessed; women in Incan society did not carry weapons or hold status as warriors.
The knife finally sliced through the rest of the binding holding the door shut and it gave way with a bit of a twang, like a string on a guitar breaking under pressure.
In the stillness of the cavern, the noise seemed unnaturally loud.
She froze, as did the individual across the way, but no one came.
After a few seconds the door to the other cell creaked open and Claire stepped out into the dimly light cavern. She glanced in Annja’s direction but Annja stayed still and Claire looked away.
Annja didn’t think she’d been seen. She watched Claire take a few tentative steps out into the center of the cavern, watched her peer down the hall toward the entrance, and then abruptly do an about-face and slip back into her cell, pulling the door shut behind her.
Annja watched all this in surprise, wondering what was going on. She didn’t have to wait long to get her answer, as she soon noticed the light getting brighter and heard someone approaching. The sound of sandals on stone grew louder until a guard stepped into view.
As quietly as possible, Annja drew back from the door, her gaze never leaving the Incan warrior just beyond.
The guard stood in the center of the cavern, glancing back and forth between the two cells. Annja watched him raise his torch high over his head in an attempt to cast more ligh
t on the situation, to no avail. The darkness of the caves must have defeated him for he gave an audible sigh as he stepped over to the door of the other cell, lowering the torch as he did so to help him better see inside.
The light fell directly on Claire, who was standing just inside the cell door.
“Hi,” she said, smiling, and then shoved the door violently forward directly into the guard’s unprotected face.
There was a solid thunk as one of the poles making up the door collided directly with the guard’s forehead, sending him stumbling backward, arms flailing.
Claire was on him in a flash. The torch rolled free and all Annja could see was a dark-shrouded mass that she knew was the two of them atop each other and then an arm rose and fell, rose and fell, and rose and fell again before going still.
Climbing off the guard, Claire retrieved the torch and came back to look at her handiwork. Even from where she stood behind the edge of the door, Annja saw the dark flow of blood draining out of the stab wounds in the man’s neck. If he wasn’t dead now, he would be in a matter of moments.
33
The die has been cast, Annja thought.
Blood had been spilled and it was only a matter of time before the Inca demanded blood in turn. Any chance of their being spared without further injury just went out the window, she realized. They needed to get out of here before the guard was discovered or there would be hell to pay.
In her distress Annja must have made some kind of sound because Claire whirled around and stared directly at her cell door. Very slowly Annja crept backward until she bumped into someone about a yard or so behind her. She would have screamed if the other person hadn’t clamped a hand over her mouth and indicated with his other hand that they should be quiet. Annja kept absolutely still so as to not garner more attention from Claire.
Deciding that she may have heard something after all, Claire strode to the cell door and shone the torch light inside. Annja saw that the rest of the dig team were all sleeping in the same position, with their feet toward the door, which must have made it difficult for Claire to see who was who. Annja and Dr. Knowles crouched just out of sight. Claire moved back and forth, trying to get a better look, but quickly gave up.
As Annja and Dr. Knowles allowed themselves to breathe again, Claire gestured back toward the cell she emerged from and Hugo and Marcos appeared. Both men had knives in their hands. Hugo disappeared down toward the cavern entrance while Marcos stopped beside the dead guard’s body, bent over and wiped the blade of his knife several times on the guard’s tunic to clean the blood off it.
Annja’s heart raged at the sight; unless he’d cut himself with his own knife, which was highly unlikely, there was only one other way he could have gotten blood all over his blade. She felt Knowles stiffen behind her as he came to the same conclusion. Annja had no doubt that when they got into the cell across the way they’d find all of the other prisoners murdered in their sleep.
She almost drew her sword then and there. When Hugo returned he not only had a pistol in hand, but he also had their packs with him. Annja was surprised; she hadn’t known their gear was nearby. Nor that the others had handguns in addition to the rifles they’d been carrying. Seemed she’d missed a lot.
While Hugo stood watch, Claire and Marcos pulled additional handguns and ammunition from inside the packs and then dumped the contents onto the floor of the cave, leaving them with empty packs.
Not that they’d be empty for long.
Using her knife, Claire cut away the ropes of the door to the treasure cave and stepped inside. She moved immediately to one of the sea chests full of gemstones and began shoving handfuls of them into the backpack. Marcos did the same with one of the chests of gold doubloons. When they were finished, they stepped back into the main cavern and let Hugo fill his backpack while Claire stood watch.
Finally, the three of them were ready to go. But they couldn’t do so without having the final word.
Claire sauntered over to the door. “I know you’re awake in there,” she whispered into the semidarkness, apparently having seen more than Annja realized. “Nine of you went to bed and I only see seven of you sleeping the night away.”
Annja stepped out of the darkness and walked to the doorway, her anger hot and fresh.
“Just going to leave us, are you?” she asked, playing the part so the other woman didn’t get suspicious.
“You’re lucky I don’t shoot you all before I go,” Claire said with a sneer. “But don’t worry, we’ll be back with enough mercenaries and packing crates to get the treasure out of here whether they want to give it to us or not.”
Annja shook her head. “You won’t get away with this,” she told Claire. In truth, she hoped they would be able to escape, because that meant that Annja and the rest of them could follow in their wake. But she’d never admit that to Claire.
True to form, Claire laughed. “Watch me.”
They were all so caught up in their conversation that none of them saw Cuzco approaching down the hallway until he was right on top of them. He must have stopped by to check on the prisoners, found the guard missing and then moved deeper into the cavern in an attempt to answer why. By the time he realized that the people in front of him were not his guards, it was too late.
He turned to run, but never made it.
Hugo was the first to react. His hand went to his belt; he drew his knife and flipped it through the air before anyone else had recovered from their surprise. The knife embedded itself in Cuzco’s calf, driving him to the floor.
Annja noted that he rolled over quickly enough, ready to spring to his feet and defend himself, but Hugo was there with his gun before the other man could rise to his feet and that was that.
“Bring him over here,” Claire demanded.
Hugo did so. He also offered a little unsolicited advice in the process. “No witnesses, remember? He’s seen our faces—he’s got to go.”
Claire glared at him. “This isn’t my first rodeo,” she told him. “I’ve got it under control. Go finish up with the rest of the gear.”
She looked over the prisoner for several minutes, trying to decide what to do with him. In the end, she decided that Hugo was right. Better to just get it over with and not drag it all out.
“Goodbye,” Claire said to him, smiling, and started to bring her gun up.
Annja had seen and heard enough. If they killed the king’s son, they were all going to be in terrible trouble. She had to stop them.
She asked Dr. Knowles to go check on the others. As soon as his back was turned, she called for her sword and slashed at the bindings holding the door shut. When she stepped out into the main cavern, Marcos spun around to face her, aiming his weapon in her direction. Annja did her best to ignore both it and him.
“You can’t shoot him, Claire,” Annja told her urgently.
Claire wasn’t listening. “Watch me,” she said.
The gun still hadn’t left the prince’s face.
“Don’t be an idiot, Claire. That’s the king’s son. You kill him and they’ll hunt you across the planet and to the end of time to settle their blood debt.” Annja spoke as rapidly as she could, hoping to get through to Claire before the other woman did something stupid.
Apparently her words had some effect, but not the effect she wanted. Rather than reducing the risk to the prince, she only made it worse.
“He’s the royal heir?” Claire laughed. “Oh, that’s rich. Seriously rich.”
She stalked over to where he stood and pointed her gun at his head from just a foot away. “Killing him before was just a necessity. Now, though, now I’m going to enjoy it.”
Annja didn’t think Cuzco could understand English, but it didn’t take much to understand a gun pointed at your head wasn’t a good sign.
Cuzco apparently wasn’t going to stand for it. He chose that moment to make a break for it. Surging upward, he knocked Claire’s gun out of her hands, sending it spinning across the cavern. He didn’t stick a
round to see what happened, either, but turned heel and headed down the passageway toward the opening.
Annja reacted as well, rushing forward, trying to put herself between Claire and Cuzco to give him time to escape without being shot in the back.
Marcos moved to intercept her and she slashed at him with the sword, cleaving the front of his handgun right off and only narrowly missed taking his hand with it instead.
She took a few more steps forward, her attention focused on Claire and the gun the other woman was scrambling to recover, and didn’t see Hugo step out of the open cell on her left. In his hand was a heavy, jewel-encrusted crucifix and he swung it savagely at the side of Annja’s head.
The two connected and Annja hit the floor.
Annja knew right away she’d been badly hurt. Her brain was sending signals but her body wasn’t listening to them; no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t move an arm or a leg.
Her senses were fading, as well. She could hear Dr. Knowles shouting her name, but his voice sounded very far away. Her vision was blurry, but she could see Cuzco charging hard for the exit and then Hugo stepping forward, his gun hand coming up.
Annja must have screamed.
Cuzco looked back and Annja thought she heard a gunshot.
Darkness claimed her.
34
When Annja came to, she found herself lying on the floor at the back of a room somewhere. A crowd of people stood in front of her, listening as someone begged someone else for something. She couldn’t understand the words—her head was spinning and she was having trouble sorting her thoughts—but the voice was familiar. Whoever it was didn’t appear to be all that popular, though, if the attitude of the crowd in front of her was any indication. They wanted blood; she could see it in their stance, their body language, even in the angry outbursts that threatened to interrupt the speaker at any moment.
She pushed herself into a sitting position. The room swam before her eyes and then steadied. She couldn’t see much over the heads of the crowd but she recognized the outer edges of the golden fan that spread out from the top of the king’s throne and realized that she must be in the king’s audience chamber.