Things finally clicked for Kotler. “You’re trying to enter Credne’s tomb.”
Ammon nodded. "The door to the Otherworld." He indicated the blade with a nod. "The sword is the key. But I must have gotten something wrong. The cast I used was perfect, but perhaps there was some flaw I did not see." He got quiet for a moment. He spoke again in a half-mumble, as if talking to himself. "Perhaps it was the weight. Without the hilt, there is only the weight of the blade …"
Kotler used the opportunity to look around again, cautiously taking in the details of the room in light of this new information.
It was clear that Ammon was unstable, but he did appear to have moments of lucidity. That could be the only thing keeping Kotler alive, but it might change at any moment.
He needed to find a way out of here.
With his hands and feet bound by chains, there was no real hope of making a run for it. His best plan would be to take Ammon by surprise somehow, maybe use a weapon. The blade? It was the focus of Ammon’s attention, impossible to reach without being noticed. But there were other objects in the room that might be just as effective.
Ammon suddenly turned and bent over Kotler, his eyes narrowing and his voice intense. “You will help me to retrieve the real key, and to enter Credne’s tomb. You will help me to reach the Otherworld.”
Kotler studied Ammon’s face. There was more than just fanaticism there. The man was intelligent. Whatever was driving him, though, was something akin to religious zeal. The Otherworld had become a real place to him, a destination he would reach even if it cost him everything.
That sort of obsession made him even more dangerous.
“Ammon,” Kotler said, cautiously. “I don’t know how to reach the Otherworld. I can’t help you.”
“You will help by being a bartering chip,” Ammon smiled, standing straight. “Maalyck will hand over the sword to get you back. He will have no choice.”
Kotler shook his head. “Your government will never allow that.”
"Maalyck will convince them. Or he will betray them. It makes no difference to me." He turned then, leaving Kotler for a moment. When he returned, he had a video camera in his hand.
“You will repeat what I tell you,” Ammon said. “Word for word.”
Liz Ludlum got Denzel’s email late in the afternoon.
It had been a busy day, and she hadn’t had a moment to check until now. Her inbox had a filter that prioritized certain senders, however, and Denzel’s was at the top. She read through it, felt her heart drop into her stomach, and immediately tried a video call.
It would be very late in Egypt. Or very early, depending on one’s point of view. The eight-hour time difference meant it would be after midnight at the camp.
Still, she doubted Denzel would be sleeping.
She made several attempts, and after nearly half an hour Denzel finally answered. He looked a bit tired, but he was fully dressed, and showed no signs of having been asleep.
“Any word?” Ludlum asked immediately, trying to keep her voice neutral.
Denzel shook his head. It was dark where he was, and the space behind him disappeared into shadow. His face was lit by an electric lantern that Ludlum could see just at the edge of the frame.
“We’re reviewing security footage, but so far no luck. I have the team on it, there in Manhattan. We’ll find him, Liz.”
“Do we know why he was taken?” she asked. She was in her analytic mode now, emotionally neutral, considering facts and asking questions.
It was keeping her from panicking.
“No note, no message. No sign of struggle. Nothing,” Denzel said.
Ludlum considered this. “They took him from his own tent? In the middle of that camp? Where was security?”
“Security is a little … relaxed, here. It’s more about protecting the site and the artifacts than the people. Though supposedly the Ra’id is stepping up measures. I think that’s because I’m here, honestly. He doesn’t like having an American Federal Agent on site.”
Ludlum huffed, not sure what to say or do. Worry was starting to crack her professional facade. She shook her head. “What can I do to help?”
Denzel considered for a moment. “I could use a single point of contact for anything happening there. Agent Brown is handling day-to-day operations for the department, while I’m out. It would be helpful if you coordinated with the team on their findings, make sure nothing gets lost or left out.”
She nodded. "Of course. I'll talk to Danielle in a moment, let her know what's happening. I'll also alert my forensics team so they can cover for me."
Denzel nodded. He paused, looked uncomfortable, but said, “We’re going to find him. He’s going to be ok.”
Ludlum also nodded. “I know. He can take care of himself. He always does.”
They ended the call, and Ludlum went to Denzel’s office, where Agent Danielle Brown had taken up temporary residence. Ludlum knocked on the door frame, and Brown looked up from her work and motioned her in.
She gestured for Ludlum to sit as she finished typing something, then she looked up, smiling slightly, but her expression making it plain she knew what this was about. “How are you?”
Ludlum shook her head. “I only just found out. But I’m fine. Agent Denzel asked me to be the liaison between him and our team here.”
Brown nodded. “He mentioned that he needed someone. And you’re covered, in the lab?”
Ludlum nodded. “I’ll make arrangements.”
Brown watched her for a moment, then sighed. “I know you and Dr. Kotler are … close. But can I ask you something?”
Ludlum’s expression was curious.
“Have you noticed how often Kotler ends up in the middle of something like this? The abductions. Firefights. Sociopaths who make threats on a super villain level. And somehow …” She stopped short.
“Somehow what?” Ludlum asked.
“Somehow, Kotler is the one who always ends up solving the whole thing.”
Ludlum studied her for a moment. “And you think that’s suspicious?”
“You don’t?” Brown asked.
Ludlum considered what she was saying, turning again to that analytical habit that had been her guide and instinct for so many years. She thought of everything she knew about Kotler, about Historic Crimes, and about the cases the FBI had allowed Denzel to work over the past two years.
She had to admit, it was pretty incredible.
“Fortune favors the bold,” Brown said.
Ludlum looked up. “What?”
"It's an old adage. Good luck tends to fall in the lap of the people brave enough to take chances. I think the same sort of idea might apply to Kotler. Maybe a little in reverse. These things keep happening to him because he keeps leaping into it. Trouble finds Kotler because he goes looking for it, maybe. Either that, or there's some shadowy government conspiracy.” She said this last with a sort of mysterious voice, waving her fingers as if to indicate secrecy and mysticism.
She laughed, and Ludlum felt relieved for some reason.
“Anyway, I’m glad to hear Agent Denzel has recruited you for this. I was already drowning a little,” she indicated the laptop in front of her, as well as stacks of file folders on the desk.
Ludlum shook her head and stood. "Sorry, yes. I know you're busy. If I can help …"
“You’re already helping,” Brown smiled. “Let me know if you need anything.”
Ludlum left and made her way down the stairs to the main floor. She wandered across to the glass doors leading to the Forensics labs. Before opening the door, she caught a glimpse of a reflection.
It was getting late, the sun had dipped below the skyline, and it was just dark enough that the details of the Historic Crimes offices were visible in the reflection. And so Ludlum could clearly see Agent Brown, standing in the doorway of Denzel's office, watching her.
Ludlum swiped her badge through the reader and opened the door to her labs, stepping inside without looking
back. Once she was beyond the sight line of the exterior offices, she stopped and turned. No one was visible from this angle.
She shook her head, continuing on to her own lab She had emails to send and calls to make. She needed to make some arrangements. And above all, she needed to help find Kotler.
Somehow he seemed to be in more danger now than ever.
Chapter Ten
Kotler’s face appeared on the laptop, as Denzel and Maalyck watched.
The video had arrived several minutes ago, in an envelope addressed to Maalyck. He had watched only a few seconds before calling for Denzel.
“My name is Dr. Dan Kotler. I am being held against my will. My life is being threatened. My abductors require a ransom for my safe return, and will only accept the sword of Credne in exchange for my life.”
“The sword?” Maalyck repeated, shaking his head.
Kotler’s message continued. “Dr. Martook Maalyck, alone, is required to bring the sword to the coordinates included with the thumb drive.”
Maalyck showed Denzel the envelope in which the thumb drive had been delivered, indicating a set of hand-written coordinates under Maalyck’s name.
“My abductor will be able to authenticate the sword instantly, so do not attempt to deliver a replica. He will also know if the Egyptian authorities have been contacted, and will kill me instantly.
“Dr. Maalyck will deliver the sword to the coordinates within 24 hours and return to the camp. He will bring no police or security, and no one from the camp will accompany him. If these instructions are not followed, I will be executed. The time is indicated on this video. The clock starts now.”
Kotler’s eyes flicked offscreen, and when he looked back he said, “Please tell Gail that I’ll be alright, and we’ll still take that trip to Antarctica. I hope she still has the map.”
The video ended abruptly then, and Denzel straightened.
Maalyck was shaking his head. “My government, the museum—they will never allow me to give this person the sword.”
“No,” Denzel said. “I think they know that. They said not to involve the authorities. They probably mean for you to steal the sword and deliver it to them.”
He thought for a moment, considering Kotler’s final statement.
Tell Gail that I’ll be alright.
That, and the reference to Antarctica were clearly meant as some sort of coded message.
“He mentioned the map,” Denzel said.
“A trip to Antarctica does not sound like a suitably romantic getaway,” Maalyck said. “Is it a perhaps a clue to his location?”
Denzel shook his head. “That isn’t it. He said to tell Gail he’d be alright. Gail McCarthy died in Antarctica. She was the head of an international smuggling ring. They did have a relationship, at one point, but she betrayed him.” He thought about this. “I think that was part of the message. Betrayal. I think that was meant to indicate it’s someone you know.”
Maalyck considered this. “So it is true,” he said. “Someone in this camp is responsible.”
“Maybe,” Denzel said. “There may be more to the message that will help us narrow that down. Kotler said that whoever has him will be able to authenticate the sword. That implies they have some familiarity with it, right?”
Maalyck nodded. “Very few members of this team have directly studied the sword.”
“Get me a list,” Denzel said. He thought for a moment. “He mentioned the map …” his trailed off.
“What is significant about this map?” Maalyck asked. “It is a map of Antarctica?”
“It was a fake. A forgery.” Denzel looked up. “But still a map, leading us to what we were after. A map within a map, hidden in plain sight.”
Again, Maalyck nodded. “This person wants the sword. They must also know its purpose, to open the tomb of Credne.”
“But they don’t know about the map,” Denzel said. “That’s what Kotler is trying to tell us. They want the key, but they don’t realize there’s a map, hidden in plain sight. They don’t know about the pommel.”
“How does this information help us?” Maalyck asked.
Denzel shook his head. "I'm not sure yet, but any time you have an advantage over an enemy, you should press it. Kotler was giving us a way to get the upper hand on this guy. We know what he's after, more or less. He'll need to gain access to that chamber, with the face …”
“The face of Credne,” Maalyck offered.
“Yeah, that one. So now we know that whoever this is, they’ve also been in that chamber. They know about the face and the gateway and all of that. Does that help us narrow things down any?”
Maalyck was thinking. He took a notepad from the table and began jotting names. When he was done, there was a list of ten. “These are all the people who, to my knowledge, would be aware of both the sword and the face of Credne, as well as have access to the translations.”
Denzel took the list and looked it over. “Any way we can narrow this down?”
Maalyck thought, then scratched through two of the names. “Dr. Warner, of course, has passed away.”
Denzel nodded. “Ok, good. What about the second name?”
Maalyck shook his head. “Dr. Grace Tennant. She left the project after Dr. Warner’s death. I am still in touch with her. She is the lead at a site in Brittany, in north-western France. She knew of the sword and its history, and she was one of the researchers who helped in the discovery of the chamber and the translations.”
“It’s still possible she could be involved,” Denzel said, stretching. He was tired, and he needed a hot meal almost as much as he needed sleep. “Could we get her on a video call? Interview her, to eliminate her as a suspect?”
Maalyck nodded. “I can make arrangements.”
Denzel nodded. “Ok, and I’d like to chat with the rest of the people on this list. But we have a limited amount of time here.” He paused. “We need that sword.”
Maalyck shook his head. “As I have said, the government and the museum would never allow it.”
"Dr. Maalyck, Kotler's life is in jeopardy. I wouldn't ask this if I could think of a way to avoid it, but if this person really can authenticate that sword on sight, then it's our only bargaining chip."
Maalyck was clearly distressed over this. “If it is discovered, I could be imprisoned. At best, my career would be finished.”
He didn’t mention the worst case scenario, but they both knew what it was. Imprisonment could be a fate worse than death, in this region.
“I do know what this could cost you,” Denzel said. “Believe it or not, I face the same fate. I’m acting well outside my jurisdiction here. But I will risk that to make sure Kotler is returned safely. It’s not fair to ask you to do the same, but I’m asking anyway.”
Maalyck was quiet for a moment, then nodded. “I will do this. For Dr. Kotler.”
Denzel smiled and nodded. “Good. But we don’t have to give them the whole enchilada.”
Maalyck shook his head. “I am sorry, I do not know this word.”
“Forget it. What I mean is, we don’t have to give them both the sword and the pommel. I think that’s what Kotler was trying to tell me. This person is after whatever is behind that door, but they don’t yet know about the map in the jewel. That gives us an advantage.”
Maalyck grinned. “And when you have an advantage over an enemy, you must press it!”
Denzel smiled and nodded. “Exactly.”
“This is a good enchilada,” Maalyck nodded, sagely.
“No … that’s not …”
“Shall we begin to vet the rest of the list?” Maalyck asked.
Denzel hesitated, then sighed and nodded again. “Let’s do it. Maybe we can solve this before the clock is up, and you won’t have to risk going to prison.”
“This would be most welcome,” Maalyck said, and turned to his laptop, arranging for the interviews.
“Focus on anyone you think might have a grudge against you,” Denzel added.
“Whoever is behind this took Kotler as a bargaining chip against you,” Denzel said. “That means they know the history between the two of you, and they’re using your relationship as leverage.”
Maalyck consider. “You are right. I will prioritize the list in this way.”
Denzel nodded and then left Maalyck’s tent, returning to Kotler’s, and thinking about all of this as he walked. They were pushing it, spending their twenty-four hours talking to people in the camp. At any time, whoever had Kotler could change their mind, get spooked, decide he was too much trouble.
It was all Denzel had, at the moment. He was short on leads.
“Keep cool, Kotler,” Denzel whispered under his breath. “I’ll get you out of this, somehow.”
Chapter Eleven
After Kotler had finished reciting what he was told to say on the video, Ammon had forced him to his feet and down the stairs, out of the building and into the truck. It was brighter out now, about mid-day by Kotler’s estimate, but that hardly helped matters. Kotler still had no idea where he was, and no means of escaping the chains binding his wrists and ankles.
They drove in silence. Kotler studied the landscape as they went, hoping for any clues that might be helpful, but there was precious little beyond mountains and desert soil. Even plant life was sparse here. And as far as Kotler could determine, there might not be a soul within a thousand miles.
They rattled through a canyon, and then stopped. Ammon came around to Kotler’s side of the truck, and hauled him out, nearly causing Kotler to fall to the ground.
“There,” Ammon pointed.
Kotler followed his gesture and saw that several feet away was a small cave, nestled behind a large boulder. Kotler hobbled to it, moving as best he could. The chains hindered his movements, making him slow and clumsy. Even if an opportunity arose, he couldn’t run.
He was in serious trouble.
Inside the cave, Ammon told him to stand to the side. He stooped and unlocked the chains around Kotler’s ankles, and used the length that ran between Kotler’s feet and his wrists to lead Kotler to a metal ring in the wall. He chained Kotler to this.
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