by Bianca James
Chapter 7
The growling DB10 hurled itself down the darkened backstreet, gathering speed with brutal neck-snapping acceleration until it almost floated atop the cobblestones, its tires not having time to dip into the ruts. The piercing headlights blocking the end of the street grew brighter and larger in the windscreen at an alarming rate causing Saira to grip the leather trimmed granny handle above the passenger window and white knuckle it as if that would actually do her any good. Now she knew why her granny always called it the JC strap, because that’s what you’d probably be yelling if you ever had to grab ahold of it.
“This is your big idea? Playing chicken with a bunch of religious fanatics who don’t seem to care if they die for the cause? Really?”
“Got a better suggestion?” he asked, his eyes never leaving the ever growing headlights ahead of them.
She did not, unless adding another hand to the already stressed strap counted as a better idea.
“These guys might be zealots but they’re not stupid. If they get killed or we total their car, they can’t follow us and that’s their mission — to keep tabs on us until they have an opportunity to capture us and take the coin. If I know one thing about them, they’re very mission oriented.”
“Are you sure about that?”
It was too late to slow down. They were committed to the plan. “Yeah, pretty sure.” He didn’t sound quite so confident now with the gap between them narrowing by the second.
Suddenly, the headlights backed away, exposing a tight T junction at the end of the roadway. Bryce downshifted the stick, hit the brake pedal and gave the emergency brake a solid pull all at the same time with smooth and practiced precision. The snarling GT coupe was instantly transformed into a drift car that would have made Tokyo’s best drifters proud as the Aston took the bend in a perfectly controlled skid. Well, almost prefect. Just as Bryce corrected their trajectory to straighten up, the wing mirror scraped a brick wall at the side of the road, ripping it from its mounting, leaving only a few remnants of wires and cables flapping in the wind.
“There goes our damage deposit,” Bryce joked.
Saira glared at him with eyes wide with terror. She was still gripping the strap with all her might. As a scientist, she’d always wondered if it were true that your life flashes before your eyes when you’re close to death. Now she knew the answer.
Chapter 8
“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Bryce asked as he peered over her shoulder.
“The real question is do you?”
“Cats aren’t people, you know. How should I know if I can hypnotize a cat or not?”
After an early morning visit to one of the many Boots pharmacies that seemed nearly as prolific as convenience stores on the streets of London, they had found themselves a quiet spot near an inner city park. Betadine, swabs, surgical tape, scissors, #3 scalpel and a suturing needle. Lucky the store had a self-serve checkout — no raised eyebrows.
“Well you’d better work something out. I’ve got my end under control,” Saira said as she lay out her purchase. “I still can’t believe you took that poor guards wallet. Do you have any morals at all?”
“Firstly,” Bryce corrected, “I didn’t take his wallet. He gave me his cash and his cards quite freely . . . well, kind of freely . . . and secondly, I let him keep his wallet. So, yes, I do have limits thanks very much.”
“It’s just that I’ve only known you for five minutes and all you seem to do is steal and rob.” Her words were laced with tone of disappointment.
“What can I say? It’s what I do.” He shrugged. “Have you ever done anything like this before?”
“Not exactly.” She responded.
“Define exactly.”
“Well, sometimes we need to dissect mummified remains when we want to find out what the cause of death was or what their stomach contents were at the time they died.”
“So you cut up thousand year old dead bodies? That’s your training for operating on a live cat?” Bryce was aghast and the look on his face made that quite apparent.
“It’s the same principle and we still have to stitch them back up afterward using the same techniques doctors use in surgery.”
“Real doctors! Not archaeologists who cut and stitch dead bodies with dry crusty skin. There has to be a better way. Can’t we just let the cat go?”
Her deadpan expression was clearly a ‘no’ to that idea and she began to trim the fur at the back of kitty’s neck with the scissors. She could feel the bump of the implanted chip below the skin and cropped the fur as short as she possibly could. She cursed herself for not buying a razor while they were at the pharmacy, but it was too late now and she doused the area with Betadine in readiness for the incision.
“Ready to do your thing?” She raised her eyebrows at Bryce.
Of course a dragon could psych out a cat. That was child’s play and far easier than working with humans, but he couldn’t tell her that. In typical male fashion, he’d made the task sound so much more complicated and inherently more difficult than it really was in order to earn brownie points when he appeared to succeed so convincingly.
“I think so.” He tried to sound unsure to maintain the illusion.
In actual fact, Bryce had been manipulating kitty the whole time he was being groomed to keep him placid. He cupped the cats head in his hands and locked eyes with the already hypnotized creature.
“He’s ready,” he said. “You can cut the chip out now but be careful not to damage it,” he added.
“Damage it? I want to crush it to dust. I want to shove the thing right up the Professor’s ass. Sideways. How could they do that to such a beautiful animal?”
Bryce shook his head. “We need it functional. It’s about time we turned the tables on these guys, don’t you think?”
Saira lingered the scalpel above kitty’s neck and looked across at Bryce. She was touched by his concern for the cat. She also found it difficult to reconcile the swashbuckling cat burglar who would steal anything not nailed down and the gentle, caring pet lover. He couldn’t be all bad, then, could he? Maybe there was more to this Bryce character than met the eye.
Chapter 9
“I think Mr. . .” Bryce paused as he read the name on the credit card, “Jenkins can treat us to a night in a nice hotel. We need to rest while we have the opportunity. If we don’t fatigue will make us careless and get us killed as surely as a bullet from one of their assassins.”
“That’s a pleasant thought. Thanks for the reminder.”
“Sorry, but that’s a reality you’re going to have to adapt to for the moment. I can’t sugar coat it. That really wouldn’t help at all.”
“I know,” Saira agreed. “I just hate the thought that these guys are chasing us with no thought other than to kill us. That’s . . . sick. That’s what it is, plain sick.”
Bryce pulled up in front on the hotel, attracting the attention of the valet who scooted to the driver’s door enthusiastically. He knew a nice motor when he saw one and beamed a radiant smile as Bryce alighted and tossed him the key fob.
Snatching it mid-flight, the valet stared at the glossy hi-tech gadget like it was one of the Crown Jewels. As Bryce walked away he called out, “Hey guv’nor, how about a tip?” He held out his hand expectantly.
Without breaking his stride or turning around, Bryce made his way to the hotel lobby doors with Saira at his side.
“Here’s a tip, my good man, don’t run with scissors and be kind to your mother,” Bryce called out to the valet as he stopped alongside a collection of luxurious Tumi luggage that was plainly waiting for its owner to complete the checkout procedure at the desk.
If the valet responded at all, they didn’t hear it as the revolving door swished them into the welcoming entry hall of the hotel.
“Was that totally necessary? Being a right royal smart ass while the valet parks your stolen getaway car? Really?” She arched a brow at him.
“Sadly, Mr. Jenkins i
sn’t a big tipper. Besides, how excited is he going to be when he finds out he drove James Bond’s Aston? That’s the best tip he’s ever going to get.”
They finally managed to get around the awkward question about their luggage, or lack thereof and secure a room for the night. From what she could see, Bryce did his party trick once again and the girl at the front desk seemed to think it was quite normal to check in with no luggage.
Saira breathed a sigh of relief when they were asked if they wanted a double or twin singles and Bryce confirmed that they would prefer the singles. Uncharacteristically, though, her relief quickly switched to disappointment. On the one hand, she had no intention of sleeping with him, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t a little put out that he didn’t even try for a room with a double bed. After all, what girl wouldn’t like some attention from a dreamy, handsome and extremely fit rogue?
As they lay on their respective beds, having had the longest, hottest shower she could ever remember, Saira closed her eyes and began to consider the legend of the thirty pieces of silver and the curse that many believed accompanied the coins. Something Bryce said had been scratching at her subconscious but she had been too exhausted and hyped on adrenaline to process it. Still, the thought clung to the edge of her mind like a barnacle. It clung tenaciously and continued to grow slowly. As she dozed, the fragments of conversation and knowledge gleaned through years working in academic circles specializing in archaeology and ancient history began to swirl through her subconscious mind. Like tumblers in a lock, they fitted together one by one until the lock sprung open and a clear picture emerged that jolted her from her restful slumber.
“I know what it is!” She all but screamed as the image burst into her consciousness.
“What, what is?” Bryce was already wide awake, keeping watch while his dragon rested.
“The thing!” Her brain was processing faster than she could form the words. Her eyes grew wide with revelation and excitement. “The thing you told me The Circle had! The artifact that gave them control over the power unleashed by the coins. I know what it is!” She drummed her fists on the bed with sheer enthusiasm.
Bryce arched a skeptical eyebrow in anticipation of her revelation. After all, she didn’t even believe in the curse or anything else her scientific mind couldn’t prove in a lab.
“You said they had it, but I don’t think they do. At least not yet. And if we can get to it first . . .”
What she said next, though, surprised him more than he expected.
“We need to get to Vienna.”
Chapter 10
Team One reported that they’d lost the target within minutes of acquisition but Blane was already in pursuit. This was a game of chess. A thinking man’s game, not a game suited to the brawny and heavy handed muscle heads The Circle had brought into the chase. The only elite force they had available in country had been dispatched during the underground chase, the details of which were sketchy at best. That meant that the soldiers assigned to the hunt were not of the same caliber as those who had been killed and while they served a purpose, Blane believed that surgical precision would prove mastery over brute force when it came to finding the slippery bastard who was the cause of his current woes.
The GPS unit mounted on the dash of the nondescript Volvo V70 Estate blipped at regular intervals, the red dot tracking the getaway of the fugitive couple, or more specifically, their cat. Blane knew that she’d never abandon the animal. That’s why he planted the chip before landing the creature on her balcony. Always thinking ten moves ahead. Even Kasparov would have been jealous.
Blane imagined what he’d do to both of them when he had them in his sights. With The Circle muscle on hand to back him up, he would have his revenge. He didn’t care so much about the coin right now. It was all about the vendetta, pure and simple. What his masters didn’t know couldn’t hurt him. Or so he hoped. His hands still ached and throbbed like a bitch and he almost gagged earlier when he changed the dressing and had to poke the flaps of flesh that had stuck to the bandage, back over the nail holes before redressing the wounds. This was all his fault. Him and his damn meddling. What was he even doing there anyway? And more to the point, who in the hell was he and why did he take a coin he couldn’t possibly know the value of?
Chapter 11
“Slow down a minute, I thought you didn’t even believe the legend of the curse.”
“I don’t, but I’ve studied ancient civilizations and their beliefs long enough to know that what other people believe knows no bounds. You wouldn’t believe some of the legends and stories I’ve heard about the things some cultures and social groups hold true.”
Oh, I think I just might.
“Just because I don’t believe it’s true,” Saira continued, “doesn’t mean I don’t acknowledge that someone else believes it’s true. From what I’ve seen, these guys are fanatics and highly motivated. You bet I believe they believe it.
“That’s what got me thinking about the artifact. If it is what I think it is, then I know for sure they don’t have it because if they did, as a curator I would have seen an Interpol bulletin regarding the theft.”
“What do you mean?” Bryce asked.
“The artifact I have in mind is in Austria. It’s on display at the Hofburg Palace in Vienna in the Imperial Treas —”
“The Holy Lance?” Bryce interjected.
“Or the Spear of Destiny, whichever name you prefer. Think about it, what other religious relic of that period has the provenance of The Spear? Even General Patton was convinced of its authenticity when he had its history traced and he was nobody’s fool.”
The spear used by the centurion Longinus to pierce Christ in the side as he hung from the cross. The Spear of Christ. Holy —
Bryce was speechless. It was as if a fog had lifted and he saw everything clearly for the first time. She was right. How had the connection not been made before? But it had, he realized. The Circle had been seeking the dragon shifter clans entrusted with the safekeeping of the coins for a very long time but hadn’t needed to be too concerned with the Spear of Destiny because they knew exactly where it was and it couldn’t be in a safer place. They could grab it any time they needed it, once they had enough of the coins amassed to require the power of the Spear.
Bryce knew that The Spear had always been regarded as a weapon in its own right, but the notion that it might be used as an instrument to control or harness the curse of the thirty coins was something new and a real game changer. For centuries military rulers had sought possession of the Spear to further their own ends, the most recent being Hitler himself, such was the aura of the legend that he who possessed the Spear could defeat any army and dominate the world.
Constantine the Great ordered that the Spear be carried by his armies as he waged many triumphant military campaigns to build his thousand year empire, with the mighty Constantinople at its center.
The Frankish emperor Charlemagne carried the Spear through 47 victorious campaigns, but he died very soon after losing possession of the Spear.
The power of the spear is also inextricably bound to the legends of the sacking of Rome and the defeat of the Attila the Hun.
As soon as he came to power, Hitler annexed Austria and ordered the Spear transported from the Hapsburg collection in Austria to Nuremberg which, at the time, was the very epicenter of the Nazi movement. An armored train guarded by the SS was tasked with transporting the Spear to Hitler.
As the tide of victory ebbed toward the allies, Hitler had the Spear moved to a secret underground vault for safekeeping in the belief that the Spear could still help him overcome his many tactical errors that would eventually cost Germany the war.
Within hours of the United States army storming the vault and seizing the Spear in the final days of the war with Germany, Hitler died by his own hand, yet another in a succession of leaders who have met a similar fate after losing possession of the Spear.
She’s brilliant. How did she come up with —
>
“We need to rest.” Saira’s voice broke through his reverie. He looked at her and saw in the emotional pools of her sparkling eyes a real passion for her chosen field and an intelligence that challenged his own. All he could do was smile.
“And guys shooting at us and trying to steal Christian relics is funny because …”
“I’m not smiling at that. I’m smiling at you. You’re quite the Lara Croft, aren’t you. I think you were wasted in that underground bunker.”
Saira looked down at her less than Lara Croft figure. “Do I look like a Tomb Raider girl to you?”
Bryce rolled over on his side, facing away from Saira’s bed. “You’re right, we need to rest. We need to be sharp if we’re to have a chance against these guys.” Then he closed his eyes.
After some tossing and turning, Saira got herself comfortable, facing away from the distractingly hot body in the next bed. As her breathing slowed to a restful rate she heard him whisper.
“You’re way hotter.”
“Hey?” she quizzed.
“You,” he offered, “you’re way hotter than that pencil thin chick in the Tomb Raider movies. Goodnight.”
Chapter 12
She wanted to slap him. How dare he! In that rich smooth voice that reminded her of melted dark chocolate flowing over her, the hot as sin criminal told her she was ‘hot’. Who the hell did he think he was?
She had her life planned out. Maybe the career thing wasn’t quite going to plan what with the whole being buried in an underground lab rather than actually exploring tombs and dig sites around the world, but apart from that things were alright. Weren’t they? She had thought they were.
She didn’t have to worry about a man in her life. They were like deadweight around her neck and they only made life complicated, anyway. How could you travel the world, explore ancient civilizations and trek hidden mountain passes for months on end with a man in your life? Alone was how she saw herself and now this slick, suave robber with the chiseled jaw and stormy eyes wanted to make her think of other possibilities.