by J. F. Penn
He smiled and walked off, followed by his men. Their footsteps echoed up the tunnel. Moments later, there was the sound of a muffled explosion.
Samael had sealed the door.
They were trapped inside the tomb.
His last words echoed inside Morgan's mind. How could he be going after her family again? Faye and Gemma were safe inside ARKANE. Then she looked down at Martin, as Jake helped him dust off his clothes. They had gotten to him inside the vault, the heart of ARKANE London headquarters. So, how hard would it be to get to her family in Oxford?
She had to get out of here.
20
Morgan ran to the wall below the doorway.
"Help me up!"
Jake leaned over and she put her foot into his hands. He boosted her and she sprang up, clambering back to the ledge above. She turned to call back to them.
"I'll go check the exit. Back in a minute."
Morgan ran down the tunnel the way they had come. Her heart hammered in her chest, not from the exercise but from the fear of what Samael planned for her family. Surely he couldn't get to them?
She made it to the safety barrier but as promised, the tunnel was blocked by a cave-in. They'd used enough explosive to bring it down but not enough to make sufficient noise to bring the guards. It was unlikely that the Egyptian authorities would check this far down into the tomb complex until morning.
"Help!" she shouted, hoping that somehow her cry would make it through the cavern. But the storm still hammered the valley outside, cloaking any sound. The tourists would all have gone back to their luxury hotels for the night, to be entertained with belly dancing and cocktails with pyramid-shaped ice. The guards would be huddled in their buildings, sheltering from the rain. There was no one to hear them. Samael had made sure of that.
Morgan banged her fist against the rock as she frantically considered the other options. They could explore the rest of the tunnels and look for another exit. But they might just end up lost in the caverns dug into the cliffs, their voices joining the whispers of the long dead. This was no time to go wandering away from the light.
She hefted one of the rocks away, her back muscles straining as she moved it just a few inches. Perhaps together they could shift enough to make a passage through.
Morgan jogged back to the pit and looked down at Jake and Martin. Their faces were ghostly in the semi-darkness and it was as if she saw them in the grave.
"The exit's blocked but we might be able to dig ourselves a way out. It's our only chance to get out of here before the morning security rounds."
Jake boosted Martin up and then clambered up after them himself. The three of them jogged back down the tunnel, their footsteps echoing through the chambers until they reached the barrier.
Jake raised an eyebrow. "He did a decent job of that." He turned to Morgan. "But at least you weren't under it this time." He bent his knees and hefted a rock up into his arms. "Guess it's time for a workout."
Morgan followed suit and Martin joined in, each of them working in silence punctuated only with the exhalation of breath.
An hour later, Morgan sank to the floor.
"Time out, guys."
Jake and Martin stopped shifting and sat near her. Jake wiped the sweat from his brow and looked over at the pile of rocks.
"We're making good progress."
Morgan laughed and shook her head. "Nice try, but we've barely touched it."
A knot of worry sat heavy in her stomach as she considered that they might not get out of here until morning when the security rounds began, or even when tourist groups arrived. There was no way they could shift all the rocks from the cave-in themselves.
"It's only six hours' flight from Luxor back to London." Morgan's frown deepened. "Samael could get to Oxford before dawn tomorrow."
"But the ARKANE labs there are pretty much impregnable," Jake said. "And when we fail to report in, Marietti will make sure your family is protected."
"Like he protected Martin in the crypt?" Morgan snapped back.
Martin huddled into the wall at her words, wrapping his arms around himself as if to ward off the truth.
"I'm sorry," she said with a sigh. "I'm just so worried."
Jake stood and walked over to where she sat. He sank down next to her and pulled her into a hug. There were no words that could help at this point, but Morgan was grateful for his support.
As they settled in for the night, she could only send positive thoughts to Faye, David and little Gemma. Be safe. I'm coming as soon as I can.
Oxford, England. The next morning.
Father Ben Costanza walked out of the Radcliffe Camera onto the square. He blinked a little as he emerged and breathed in the scent of the air after rain. The circular interior of the library was a haven in the middle of the busy city, part of the Bodleian Library. It held the theological texts he consulted in preparation for his lectures, although truth be told, he could have found them all online now. But he liked to get out of the hallowed hall of Blackfriars and feel part of the wider university. This was one of his favorite places, especially in the early mornings when no one else was around.
Sleep was a minor part of his life now and most nights he only rested for a few hours. One of the minor benefits of age perhaps, as he had more time to read and think. But this morning, he had woken while it was still dark with a sense of foreboding, a twisting in his gut that something was wrong. It had happened several times since returning from India, with nightmares of the Kali temple and a shadow of violent death that still lay heavy upon him. So he came here and had been deep in study since the early hours, but now he had to get back for a morning tutorial.
Ben loved his life at Oxford. After years of working for the Vatican, he enjoyed the relative freedom he had to pursue his studies as well as teach the next generation everything he knew.
Or at least some of it, he thought.
Much of what he had learned over the years was best left buried.
He gripped the handrail and slowly walked down the stone stairs, one step at a time. A couple of students bustled past him, laughing together as they strode towards their bikes, chained up in the tangle in the rack at the edge of the square.
Ben smiled to see them go, even though they didn't even notice him. The old were invisible, he thought. That had always been the way of things and he was more than ready to give way for the young. They would learn their lessons in time and he wished them many years before they faced the inevitable pain that would come.
Such was the wisdom of the old, Ben thought with a rueful smile, feeling the twinge of arthritis in his knees as he stepped down. The familiar pain heralded the beginning of autumn, when damp pervaded the stone wall of his rooms back at the college and seeped into his bones.
But autumn and winter had their own pleasures and he preferred Oxford in the darker days, dusted with snow, although that was rare these days. Mulled wine and Mass by candlelight, nights telling tales of old … and his books.
Always his books.
Despite the digitalization of the Bodleian Library and the march towards all things online, he still valued the weight of tomes filled with knowledge on his shelves. Amongst them, a rare Wettstein New Testament in Greek, a first edition of The Pilgrim's Progress, an illuminated Book of Hours from the Tudor period and an Armenian antiphony, a liturgical book used by the choir. Books he had collected on his travels in the Middle East, illuminated by the hands of monks long dead before him.
The many map books were amongst his most precious things, proof that borders meant nothing in the path of history. Most people assumed that countries were fixed, that nationalities were more than just an idea. But the map books Ben had on his shelves proved how the world had shifted over time, as men who cared more about resources like oil rather than people remade the borders to suit themselves. Maps proved the world was mutable, the edges porous, ever changing.
He thought of Morgan, off on another ARKANE mission. She worked on the edge of supe
rnatural mysteries, as he himself had once done back in his Vatican days. He had thought those days were over, but on the trip to India, he had faced evil incarnate. He remembered the darkness of the Kali temple, the blood of sacrifice pooling before him and the thought that he would certainly be next.
He shivered and pulled his robe closer about him. He was glad to be back here, far away from the demons of the east. There were more than enough of his own to conquer.
Once on the main path, Ben shuffled along the cobblestones through the archway into the tiny square of the main Bodleian Library before walking out past the Sheldonian Theatre onto Broad Street. Students cycled past on their way to lectures, bells ringing to encourage the tourist photographers out of the way. It was too easy to forget the glorious surroundings when hurrying to the next tutorial. The rarefied air of Oxford became just another city when an essay deadline loomed, and Ben supposed the romance of getting into the university soon faded with the reality of the workload.
But he was grateful for every day he was able to walk these ancient streets, for every moment he had left to breathe the air that so many brilliant scholars had before him. Time was ever more fleeting the older he became.
Would he swap his life for that of a newly minted student? Ben chuckled at the thought. No, he couldn't keep up with all the technology anyway and thank the Lord, he had a good life in these twilight years.
He turned at the church of St Mary Magdalen and walked past the Martyrs' Memorial, commemorating Anglican bishops Cranmer, Latimer, and Ridley, who had been burned at the stake in the sixteenth century. An unwashed man crouched on the steps, holding a bottle in a paper bag. The smell of booze emanated from his skin. He looked up as Ben passed, his eyes narrowing a little as if expecting some kind of reprimand.
Ben rummaged in his satchel for some coins and handed them to the man with a smile.
"For your supper."
It was hard being poor in a city like Oxford, where the elite were well catered to but the unfortunate of the city were unwelcome. Especially near the colleges.
Ben crossed the road to head up St Giles as he hummed a few bars of Liszt's Bénédiction de Dieu. Outside the Ashmolean Museum, just before he reached the haven of Blackfriars, a white transit van swerved in.
It pulled up right next to him on the pavement. Ben stopped in surprise.
The door opened and a man jumped out, a tattoo of a snake winding up his neck.
Before Ben could even shout, the man shoved him through the side of the van, jumped in after and slid the door shut.
The van pulled out into the main road, heading north.
21
Oxford, England.
Ben clutched at the sides of the van and pulled himself upright in the moving vehicle as it sped up the main road. The man sat watching him, his dark eyes unfathomable.
"What do you want, my son?" Ben asked.
"Father Ben Costanza." The man's tone was a threat. "Dominican monk based at Blackfriars. Tutor for the Angelicum, but once an archaeologist specializing in the Near East. Friend of the Vatican."
"Yes, all that is true." Ben nodded. "But what do you need from me?"
The man didn't blink. "Mentor to Doctor Morgan Sierra."
Ben froze at Morgan's name. He knew that her sister Faye and her family had gone into hiding with ARKANE in the last twenty-four hours but he didn't know the details why. Was this who she was running from?
The man smiled. "I see your fear, old man, but don't worry. If you help me, you need have no concern about your safety. Morgan Sierra has nothing I need now … but you do."
Ben sighed and shook his head a little. "I'm old and much of my life has been conducted in the shadows. I've traveled many places and seen many things. You'll have to be more specific."
The man nodded. "Soon."
The van turned sharp left and moments later, it turned down a bumpy road. Ben considered where they might be. Given the short distance, it was likely they were in the more rural area near Wolvercote. It was close to the city but there were still farmhouses that seemed in the middle of nowhere.
There would be no one to hear him shout for help.
His tutorial student would wait ten minutes and then take advantage of his absence to go work on his essay again. No one would miss him until tomorrow's breakfast when the professors, monks and students gathered in the Hall. Even then, sometimes he skipped it when fasting. He was at the mercy of this man for at least twenty-four hours.
But it couldn't be any worse than the Kali temple. An image of Sister Nataline flashed through his mind, how her faith had sustained her even as she faced certain death.
Could he be so brave? Would he have to be?
The van stopped and the man pushed the door back to reveal a small cottage on the edge of a wide-open green field. Port Meadow, the closest Oxford came to wilderness, a large area of common land recorded in the Domesday Book of 1086 … and a haven of peace and quiet. Nothing like the busy city only a few kilometers away.
The man got out and reached in a hand to help Ben clamber down. Another man emerged from the front of the van and went to open the cottage door.
"We won't be disturbed here." Ben heard the edge of threat in his voice. "Krait," the man called. "Prepare the room."
Ben balked at the words, but there was nowhere to run and they would soon catch him even if he could break away. His old legs were not meant for much more than hobbling these days.
But at least he could go with some dignity.
Ben stood tall, shaking the man's hand from his arm. He walked towards the door, trying to be steady on his feet. He'd seen Morgan fight before and for a moment, he toyed with the idea of channeling her strength. Perhaps he could get away from the man.
He saw a spade by the edge of the garden. It was only a few paces away on the diagonal. The edge was sharp and he could swing it as a weapon.
"Don't even think about it," the man behind him growled. "Go inside."
Ben stepped under the ivy-clad doorway into the cottage. Deep grey flagstones led into a homely kitchen, but the place smelled musty and unused.
The other man, Krait, stood inside. He waved a hand towards the sitting room. Ben turned in and gasped at the sight.
A wooden chair had been placed in the middle of the room and the floor covered with black plastic. Beside the chair was a small table with a series of knives laid out upon it.
He grabbed hold of the door, backing away.
"No, please!"
Krait forced him forward.
Valley of the Kings, Egypt.
The clunk of metal on stone and the yammering of voices woke Morgan from a restless sleep filled with nightmares. She opened her eyes to see a chink of light appearing at the top of the cave-in.
She rolled to her feet and clambered up, trying to see out of the crack.
"Help! We're trapped in here."
An Egyptian security guard appeared at the hole.
"I'm so sorry, miss. This is terrible. Please move away from the rocks and we'll have you out soon."
Morgan slid back down to the bottom of the pile. Jake rubbed his eyes as he got to his feet. Martin uncurled himself from the floor, stretching his stiff limbs. The sound of the rescuers grew louder as they redoubled their efforts to clear the way.
"Hopefully it won't take them long to get us out of here," Morgan said. She felt a dawning sense that everything could possibly turn out OK. The Egyptian authorities were very concerned that tourists had a good experience here and after gunfire at the Hatshepsut temple yesterday, it was likely that they wanted to prevent any further negative press. They would hurry.
She looked at her watch, calculating the time in England. She imagined Gemma waking up, the little girl reading one of her favorite books in bed with her cuddly toy dog. Faye would be there, arms around her daughter. Morgan smiled at the thought and then her smile faded. If Samael touched them … she couldn't bear to consider it.
She picked up another rock and he
fted it away from the pile. Jake and Martin joined in, redoubling their efforts. She had had quite enough of being trapped in caves.
It was another hour before there was enough space for them to squeeze out the top of the cave-in into the chamber beyond. Morgan slid down the other side into the waiting arms of the Egyptian security team. There were medics on site who insisted on checking them for any injury.
"I'm fine, really. I just need a phone."
As a medic cleaned some of her superficial injuries, Morgan managed to get a mobile from one of the security guards. She called Marietti and the Director answered on the first ring.
"Damn it, Morgan. Where have you been?"
She quickly told him what had happened.
"But we're all fine. It's my sister I'm worried about. Samael threatened those I love."
"Just a minute. Hold the line and I'll check."
Marietti kept the phone line open so she could hear him call the Oxford ARKANE labs. One of the agents answered and Morgan heard the rumble of low voices, but couldn't quite make out the words. Then Marietti came back on the line.
"They're OK. Gemma slept well and she's having breakfast. Faye and David are coping well despite the shock of the attack. They're safe. I've told the agents to activate the shut-down protocol until further notice. No one is getting in there."
Morgan sighed with relief, the weight of concern lifting a little. But how many more times could she put her family in danger? Was her role at ARKANE just too risky for those she loved?
Then a cold fear tightened around her heart.
"Ben," she said. "Is he safe too?"
Marietti was quiet for a moment. "He refused extra security when we returned from India," he said. "But let me see if we can locate him."
Once again, Morgan heard his low voice, but this time there was a darker tone.
"He's not in his office and he didn't show up for breakfast, but the Porter says he often works at the Rad Cam in the early mornings. I'll send someone to find him, Morgan. You just get to the airport and come home."