Eight Days to Live

by Iris Johansen

  “No snakes.” But Jock’s other concern about the cave’s collapsing was definitely valid. It was a wonder that the dirt ceiling hadn’t fallen in over the years. “The ground in here has high clay content, so that part of Hadar’s writings could be correct.”

  “Move to the side,” Caleb said. “I’m coming in.”

  “No, there’s barely enough room for me, and I have to maneuver around in here and see if I can find the place where Hadar buried the bottle.” Her gaze shifted around the small area. “He said it was close to a stone wall. This is basically a dirt cave. The only stone wall I can see is the one at the far end of the cave.” She was wriggling toward it. “Let’s hope that he didn’t bury that bottle too deep. You’d think that Hadar would want to get rid of the coins and be on his way fast.”

  “Hadar had just crucified and burned four people. And he stayed there to watch them burn,” Jock said. “That doesn’t indicate a man who was in any great hurry.” He added, “But could you hurry a little? I’m trying to block the glimmers of light coming out of the cave from your flashlight, but all it would take is one glance from the guards at the wrong time.”

  “I am hurrying.” She had her small pick out of the backpack and was gently digging into the clay. “I don’t want to break the bottle.”

  “What difference does it make? Why worry about the bottle. It’s the coins that matter.”

  “If there’s any documentation with the coins, I don’t want to destroy it. Just exposing it to air could cause serious damage.” She adjusted the flashlight and went back to carefully scratching in the dirt. “The ground is moist, at least on the area nearest the surface. It’s a good thing that the bottle was alabaster and not clay.” But the ceiling of the cave was dry, and her movements had caused dirt particles to begin falling.

  Not good. Best not to mention that to Jock.

  HE COULDN’T JUST stand here, dammit.

  Caleb glanced back at the farmhouse. No lights yet, but that didn’t meant they might not pop on at any minute.

  “Go on,” Jock said quietly.

  Caleb’s gaze flew to Jock’s face.

  “We’re sitting ducks out here,” Jock said. “Time to alter the situation. Go do it. I’ll stay here and stand guard over her.”

  Jock didn’t have to tell Caleb twice. He whirled and started down the hill. “Take care of her.”

  And he’d take care of clearing the path. First, get back to the car and make sure that Gillem didn’t take it into his head to leave no matter how hot the situation became.

  Then locate the two guards Jock had mentioned and remove them from the equation.

  He could feel his blood start to pump hot and heady as he ran across the field. He felt strong enough to take on the whole damn world.

  Alter the situation, Jock had said.

  Consider it done.

  THE AIR WAS SUFFOCATINGLY hot in the cave, and Jane could feel the sweat beading her nape.

  Ignore it.

  Go slowly, carefully.

  She was going slowly, dammit. It had been over fifteen minutes since she had started digging, and she had gotten only a foot or so down into the earth.

  Be patient.

  Go slowly.

  GO SLOWLY, CALEB told himself.

  The guard was leaning against the tree, a cigarette hanging from his lips and gazing moodily at the farmhouse a few yards away.

  Evidently he doesn’t like sentry duty, Caleb thought, as he moved silently behind him. It was clearly his duty to save the bastard from his boredom. He’d already liberated the first sentry a few minutes ago at the back of the house.

  Now he had only to make sure that this morose fellow was sent to the happy hunting grounds.

  No problem.

  SEVENTEEN

  A GLEAM of metal.

  Jane inhaled sharply, her gaze fixed on the small, corroded bronze object she’d uncovered.

  A stopper?

  She carefully cleared more earth away from the object.

  Yes, a stopper.

  She cleared away more earth.

  A bronze stopper sealing a bottle.

  She sat back on her heels and drew a deep breath.

  “Hadar, you bastard. I think I’ve found it,” she whispered. “Now to get it out of the ground and we’ll see what we—”

  “Jane, get out of there,” Jock’s voice was sharp. “Lights in that farmhouse.”

  Shit.

  “I can’t go yet.” She was digging frantically around the bottle. “A few more minutes.”

  “You don’t have a few minutes.” Jock was cursing. “Caleb must have blown it.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” She was digging the earth away from around the bottom of the bottle. “Never mind. I don’t give a damn. Just keep them off me for one more minute. I’m almost there.”

  “Two men are running out of the farmhouse. Get out of that gopher hole, and let’s get away from here.”

  Careful . . .

  She cautiously, slowly pulled the smooth, opaque bottle from the earth. It was over eighteen inches high; the width varied from seven inches at the bottom to about four inches at the top, and it was sealed by a bronze stopper. And it’s heavier than I expected, she thought as she lifted it.

  “Jane.”

  “I’m coming.” She carefully wrapped the bottle in several rolls of protective plastic and put it in her backpack. She started wriggling through the cave toward the entrance. “I found it, Jock.”

  “Great.” He reached down as her upper body emerged from the cave, grabbed her hand, and pulled her to her feet. He took her flashlight and dropped it fully lit to the ground in front of the cave. “We’ll leave it here to light their way. Now let’s move, Jane.”

  She could see the lights of several flashlights bobbing across farmyard toward the Field of Blood as Jock half pulled, half dragged her down the hill.

  “Where’s Caleb?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t care.” He dragged her behind a hillock and pushed her to the ground. “We’ll wait until they get to the cave, then start across the field.”

  Four running men were only yards from the hills now.

  Dammit, where’s Caleb? What happened to him?

  Guns. The men were carrying guns.

  They were almost upon them.

  Then they were climbing past them up the hill toward the cave, where Jock had dropped her flashlight.

  “Just a little longer,” Jock whispered. “Get ready.”

  Her muscles tensed.

  “Now!”

  She leaped to her feet and streaked after him down the few yards to the field.

  She heard a shout from up the hill.

  The clay sank deep beneath her feet as she ran.

  Another shout.

  She glanced over her shoulder. The four men were bolting full speed down the hill.

  She stumbled, caught her balance, and kept running.

  “Okay?” Jock asked.

  “Yes, but where’s Caleb? We shouldn’t leave him.”

  “He may have left us. Keep running.”

  She wasn’t about to slow down. Their pursuers had reached the field and were gaining on them.

  A bullet whistled by her ear.

  Shit. They’re firing on us, she thought.

  “Zag to the left!”

  Caleb’s voice. Caleb himself in the stable yard, kneeling on one knee, leveling a rifle.

  “Left!” Jock said. “He needs a clear shot.”

  She zagged left.

  Another shot. But this one was from Caleb’s rifle.

  A scream from behind her, and she looked back. The leader of the pack had fallen to the ground, and the other three men were splitting to either side. They were hesitating, their attention fixed on Caleb.

  The next moment, Jane and Jock reached the farmyard.

  “Get to the car.” Caleb was sighting again. “One more down should distract them enough to hold them.”

  She slowed, h
esitating.

  “Come on,” Jock grabbed her arm. “He’ll take care of it. He doesn’t need us. You’ll get in his way.”

  Caleb pressed the trigger, and another man fell to the red clay.

  Field of Blood.

  And no one knew more about blood than Caleb.

  No, he didn’t need her.

  She ran with Jock toward the car.

  Gillem was standing beside the car. “Get in. What were those shots? I was supposed to get you in and out with no trouble. I don’t like this.”

  “Neither do we,” Jock said. “So get in that driver’s seat and get us out of here.”

  “Wait.” Jane said. “Caleb.”

  “I wasn’t going to leave him.” He was watching out the window. “Here he comes.”

  “Go!” Caleb dove into the passenger seat. “We have maybe two minutes before they reach the cars parked in the driveway.”

  Gillem pressed the accelerator, and the car jumped forward. “I don’t like this,” he repeated.

  “But you’ll do what you’re supposed to do, what we want you to do,” Caleb said. “Won’t you, Gillem? Whatever it takes.”

  Gillem muttered a curse as he raced away from the farmhouse. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

  “Attitude adjustment,” Jane murmured.

  Caleb met her eyes in the rearview mirror. “I had to keep busy. You had both Jock and me twiddling our thumbs. Did you find it?”

  “I found a bottle. I think it may be alabaster. I’ll have to see if there’s anything in it. I didn’t want to risk opening it.”

  “You blew it, Caleb,” Jock said. “You were supposed to keep those two guards from giving an alarm.”

  “I took care of the guards. Someone from the house must have spotted the light.” He glanced back over his shoulder and stiffened. “I see headlights. Lose them, Gillem.”

  Gillem stomped on the accelerator, and the tires screeched as he tore down the road.

  MacDuff’s Run

  LORD, SHE was sick.

  Eve barely made it to the bathroom before she threw up.

  And again. And again.

  She sank to her knees on the floor beside the toilet.

  Nausea and pain.

  Flu?

  Food poisoning?

  But she had felt fine earlier in the evening.

  She threw up again.

  But she didn’t feel fine now.

  Her cell phone was ringing. She didn’t want to move.

  She had to move. She had to get help. She crawled to the bedside table. “Hello.”

  “I’m sick,” Lina said. “I keep throwing up.”

  “Me, too,” Eve said. Lord, she was dizzy. “Food poisoning?”

  “I don’t know. I feel like the time the midwives gave me some powerful herbs to make me fertile, and they only made me sick.”

  “I’m calling MacDuff to get a doctor.”

  “I’m coming to your room. I don’t want to be alone.” She was retching. “Dammit. If I can stop throwing up.”

  Eve had to wait a moment before she was able to dial MacDuff’s number.

  “Sick. Both Lina and me. Throwing up. Maybe food poisoning . . . I don’t know,” she said when he picked up. “We need a doctor.”

  MacDuff muttered a curse. “I’ll call Dr. Kelsey in the village and tell him to get up there. I’m phoning Mrs. Dalbrey to go to your room and see if she can help. I’m on my way back from the hills. I should be there in twenty minutes.” He hung up.

  If I didn’t feel so rotten, I’d be relieved, Eve thought hazily. MacDuff was on the job doing what he did best. Taking care and bossing everyone around.

  Her door opened and Lina came into the room. She was white as a sheet, her eyes rimmed and dark.

  “Do I look as bad as you?” Eve asked. “Don’t answer. I don’t give a damn.” She curled up on the floor. “I called MacDuff. He’s getting help.”

  “So sick.” Lina sank to the floor beside her and leaned against the nightstand. “Like those herbs . . .”

  Herbs.

  I hope all goes well with you.

  There’s sighting in the hills. I have to check on it.

  The MacDuffs wouldn’t have built their castle here if they hadn’t worked out an escape route.

  BUT AN ESCAPE ROUTE could also be an entry.

  Wrong. Something was very wrong.

  Eve’s lids flicked open. “We have to get to the guards at the gates. It’s not . . . safe here.”

  “What?”

  Eve was struggling to her feet. “It’s all wrong. Mrs. Dalbrey . . . acting . . . strange.” Eve tried to help Lina up, but she was weak as a kitten. “They drew MacDuff . . . away from the castle. And if there’s a way to escape, there’s a way to . . . get in.”

  Lina staggered to her feet. “But you said . . . they can’t get to us here.”

  “Not from outside. But there’s a way. Jane told me that there’s a way.” She slipped her arm around Lina’s waist. “Come on. We’ll help each other.” She was staggering toward the door. “We have to—get to the gates.”

  The staircase seemed a hundred yards from her bedroom door. They paused at the top of the stairs. How were they going to get down without falling in a heap at the bottom?

  “Let me go. We’ll go tumbling. I’ll hold on to the banister.” Lina broke away from her and grabbed the banister.

  Eve slowly followed Lina down the steps.

  Lina was panting by the time she reached the landing. “It’s too far. Maybe if we shouted for the housekeeper.”

  “No. Keep going.”

  Lina started down the last flight. “Why?”

  Eve didn’t have the strength for explanations. “Herbs.”

  It was enough. Lina’s lips tightened. “We’ll make it to the gates.”

  But it took another five minutes for them to reach the bottom of the stairs.

  They started for the front door.

  It was thrown open before they reached it.

  Mrs. Dalbrey stood in the doorway. Her hair was pulled from its smooth knot and her face was haggard. Tears were running down her cheeks. “You’ve got to get out of here. Come with me.”

  Eve shook her head.

  “Don’t argue. They’ll kill you.” She was sobbing. “They kill everybody. They killed my boy.” Her hand grasped Eve’s arm, and she pulled her out into the courtyard. “Get out the gates and run.”

  “Can’t run—sick.”

  She flinched. “I know. I had to do it. They had my son. They said the only way I could save him was to do what they said. They lied.” She put her arm beneath Eve’s shoulders. “I’ll help you.” She glanced at Lina. “Can you walk?”

  Lina nodded.

  “Come. Hurry. They’re going to—” The housekeeper arched, her eyes widening with shock. Blood was staining her white blouse. She fell to the stones of the courtyard.

  Dead. She’d been shot, Eve realized.

  But she hadn’t heard the sound of the bullet.

  A silencer.

  Men were pouring out of the stable. Some were heading for the gates carrying automatic weapons.

  Rotors. A helicopter was overhead . . .

  Two men were coming toward them. One was tall, burley, dark. Thick lips, hook nose. She recognized that face from the photo. Millet.

  A low ping of sound.

  Lina gave a low cry.

  Eve turned and saw Lina staggering backward, clutching her upper arm.

  She was shot, Eve realized. Lina was falling to her knees.

  “Finish her, Medford,” Millet said as he came toward them. “She’s no use to us.”

  The other man lifted his gun.

  “Stop!” Eve turned, dove in front of Lina, and took her down.

  Pain exploded in her upper body.

  “You fool,” Millet shouted. “Not her. You killed Eve Duncan.”

  Death?

  Darkness.

  Tel Aviv, Israel

  “WHAT NEXT?” GILLEM ASK
ED as he pulled up in front of the hangar. “Do you need me for anything else?”

  “No,” Jane said as she got out of the car. “We’ll handle it from here.” She turned to Jock. “I want you to call Venable and tell him to get an expert out here to find a way to X-ray this bottle so that it won’t damage anything inside.”

  “Providing there is anything inside,” Caleb said. “Why don’t we take it back to MacDuff’s Run and have it done there?”

  “Because if we don’t come up with the jackpot, I’m going to go back to that field and try again.”

  “I was afraid you’d say that.” He turned to Gillem. “It seems there is something you can do. Arrange someplace safe for us to stay until we get some answers.”

  “That won’t be easy on short notice. Venable didn’t tell me I was supposed to do anything but get you in and get you out.”

  “But a good agent always reacts to the situation,” Caleb said. “Isn’t that right?”

  Gillem reached for his phone. “I’ll find a place.”

  Jane was unfastening her backpack and gently taking out the bottle she’d swathed in heavy plastic. It appeared to be intact, she realized with relief. Amazing after that headlong race across the field.

  “Curious? Not even a peek inside?” Caleb asked.

  Curious? She was practically biting her nails. “I can’t risk it. It has to be incredibly fragile. We’ve just got to hope that Venable can get that expert here in a hurry.” She glanced at Jock, who was still on the phone. “And that the expert won’t be tempted to call the local authorities when we try to take a priceless artifact out of the country.”

  “That depends on whether there’s a document in the bottle that would authenticate. Otherwise, he would have no idea that he was looking at anything other than a couple of ancient Aramaic items.”

  “In that case I might be tempted to invent a document of my own if it will lure Roland to take the bait.” She grimaced. “You seem to know a lot of people who aren’t exactly lilywhite. You could probably point—” Her cell phone rang, and she glanced at the ID. “MacDuff?” Her heart stopped, then went into high gear. She punched the answer button. “What’s wrong, MacDuff?”

  “God, I wish I could tell you that there was nothing wrong.”

  Her hand clenched on the phone. “Answer me. What’s wrong? Is Eve okay?”

  “I’m not sure. I’ll tell you what I know.”