The agent looked up at Alyssa as she raced across the terminal, waving her boarding pass, backpack bouncing with every stride. The woman gave a small smile and held the door open.
“Slowly, señorita,” she hollered to Alyssa. “We will wait.”
Alyssa raced up to her, chest heaving. She handed the boarding pass to the woman.
“Thank… you…” she said between gasping breaths. The agent scanned her boarding pass and returned it to her.
“Have a nice flight,” she said.
Alyssa nodded gratefully, too winded to muster a reply. She walked through the jetway into the airplane and continued along the narrow isle toward her seat. She did her best to ignore the curious looks from the other passengers as she collapsed, wringing-wet, into her seat.
She reached for the water bottle and took a long sip, savoring the taste, her heartbeat slowly fading from her ears. That was close… She took another sip, pulled out her phone, and dialed Jacob’s number.
He picked up on the first ring.
“Made it… barely,” she said, her breathing finally starting to slow. “How’s it going?”
“Uh… still recovering from the reaming I got from Dr. Huerta,” he replied. “My Spanish may be rusty, but I don’t think she likes me anymore.”
Alyssa chuckled. “Thank you, Jake. I definitely owe you one.”
“One?” he replied in semi-mock exasperation. “You have a very short memory!”
“I did just get whacked in the head pretty good.”
“Nice try,” Jacob laughed. “Anyway, the equipment should have arrived at the WHO this morning.”
“Thank you, Jake. For everything.”
“Good luck,” he said. “Call me as soon as you land.”
“Yes, sir,” she replied, smirking.
Alyssa closed her eyes and let her breathing slow down, barely noting the plane pulling away from the gate and taxiing toward the runway. She leaned her head into the seat and smiled at the rush of the acceleration as the plane sped up and took to the air.
She allowed herself a few more moments of rest then reached into her backpack and pulled out her laptop. I suppose there’s an upside to all the hours spent getting all the permits for our digs. She opened it up and began browsing through several directories until she spotted the file she was looking for, a letter from the dean of the archaeology department to her father. She opened the file and scanned the formal-looking Cairo University letterhead and the dean’s signature at the bottom of the document. Her lips curved into a smirk before she erased the content of the letter and began typing:
I hereby authorize Dr. Alyssa Morgan to inspect the property of Cairo University, shipped to the World Health Organization…
The hazy glow of the afternoon sun found its way through the wooden shutters of the Thatchers Arms Pub, casting banded shadows onto the solitary patron sitting at the bar. Gavriel’s dark gray, tailored suit seemed at odds with the cozy interior of the seaside pub and accentuated his broad shoulders and square face as he studied the brim-filled shot glass with a predatory stare.
He reached for the glass with his gloved hand and brought it under his nose, savoring the smell. He emptied it in one throw, letting the taste of the tequila linger on his tongue before setting the glass down next to the open bottle.
The silence in the pub was interrupted by a soft ringtone. Gavriel ignored the intrusion and slowly refilled his glass before reaching inside his jacket. He pulled out his phone and answered it on the third ring.
“Drake has a job for you.” Gavriel felt a smile tilting the corner of his mouth as he recognized Tasha’s voice.
“My schedule just opened up,” he replied, his voice flat.
“World Health Organization, London. Await further instructions,” Tasha said and ended the connection.
Gavriel emptied the glass and placed it on the bar, upside down. He reached to the stool next to him and grasped the 9mm Glock semi-automatic pistol. With unhurried movements, he unthreaded the silencer from his weapon and holstered both into the shoulder harness concealed under his jacket. He stood and strode for the door, taking care to step over the blood encircling the two lifeless bodies on the floor.
6 Cosmo Internet Café, London
Alyssa glanced up from the computer monitor and rubbed the back of her neck, working the knots, trying to persuade her stiff muscles to forget about the ten-hour flight she spent crammed into the middle seat. She fidgeted in the new pencil skirt suit she had picked up at one of the airport boutiques and scrunched her toes inside the high heels. How can women wear these all day long?
She glanced at her watch. 3:45 p.m. Going through passport control and customs at Heathrow had taken longer than she’d hoped. A ride on the express train and the famed London underground had gotten her to the small café across from the World Health Organization building.
I’m cutting it close. Hope I’ll make it there before they take off for the day.
She swiped her credit card through the reader attached to the computer then plugged her thumb drive into the USB port and waited for her files to appear on the screen. She double-clicked on the letter she wrote on the plane and read through it one last time.
TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN:
I hereby authorize Dr. Alyssa Morgan to inspect the property of Cairo University, shipped to the World Health Organization. Please grant Dr. Morgan all necessary rights and privileges required to conduct a thorough evaluation and to catalogue the contents of the shipment.
Sincerely,
Prof. Salah El-Haddad
Dean, Department of Archaeology
University of Cairo
Alyssa took a deep breath and hit the print icon. She waited a few seconds then glanced at the printer attached to the computer. She frowned when she didn’t hear the familiar whine of the printer powering up.
She hit the print icon a couple of times and looked at the printer again expectantly.
Nothing.
Fantastic, she sighed a measure louder than she had intended and stood. She craned her head behind the monitor, scrutinizing the cables running between the computer and the printer.
“Having a spot of bother?” Alyssa jumped at the voice behind her and whirled. A young man stood next to her desk and smiled. “Need a hand?”
She eyeballed him. His shoulder-length, chestnut hair matched his playful eyes. His tweed slacks and Tattersall button-down shirt were a perfect match for his British accent. Why is it that a British accent always makes guys sound smarter… and look cuter? He looked like he hadn’t shaved in a couple of weeks, but the scruff fit him.
“Uh…” she stammered, “it’s not coming out… the paper. Not printing.” Brilliant, she thought. Me Jane, you Tarzan.
“Rough day, huh?” he asked.
You have no idea. “I’ve had better.”
He glanced at the computer. “Probably a software flab,” he said. “The new system update buggered up all the legacy drivers.”
She gave him a blank look. “I’ll take your word for it. Do you work here?”
“Nah,” he grinned. “Just grabbing a cuppa and a bite on my lunch break.” He pointed at the computer. “Mind if I have a little look?”
“She’s all yours.” Alyssa moved aside and the young man sat in the chair and opened up a new window on the desktop. He scrolled through the settings for several moments then looked up and furrowed his brow. “Well, the drivers all seem to be in order.” He rubbed his chin.
“So what now?” Alyssa asked.
“Could be the connection,” he replied. “Let’s check it out.”
Alyssa watched with a raised eyebrow as he got off the chair and his head disappeared under the table. She didn’t try to hide her smirk as she watched him wiggle his way to the cables at the back of the computer.
“Sure you know what you’re doing there?” she asked.
“Don’t you fret, just give me a minute,” she heard him mumbling. “It’s darker than a goth party down
here."
Did he just say ‘don’t you fret?’ Alyssa thought as she reached into her pocket and took out her phone then turned on the flashlight. She resisted the urge to tap his butt and opted for poking him in the side. “Here, try this.”
“Ah—cheers,” he said and took it.
“What a mess,” he sighed. “Hang on… just got to find the USB port where the printer—"
Alyssa drew a deep breath. “Maybe I’d better get somebody who works here.”
“No, no. Just hang tight… almost there.”
“Take your time,” Alyssa muttered under her breath. “Not like I have to be somewhere.”
“What?” he asked.
“What?” Alyssa replied.
“Got it! Here we go,” he said—a second before the monitor went black. “Wait, uh… I think that was the monitor cable.”
Alyssa rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on!” she groaned and smacked the printer. The young man jumped and she cringed at the sound of his head hitting the underside of the table.
“Ow! What the—?" The noise of the printer powering up froze the next word coming out of his mouth.
The young man emerged from under the desk. Alyssa gave him a sheepish smile as he rubbed his head.
“Well, that’ll work, too, I suppose…” he said, grimacing.
Alyssa waited for the print-out and took the letter, folded it neatly and slid it into a folder in her backpack. She logged off the computer and turned to the young man.
“Thanks for your help,” she said.
“Uh, seems like you’re actually quite self-sufficient.” He looked down and fidgeted for a moment. He tugged down his shirt and looked at her, blowing out a long breath. “Care to join me for a coffee? I’ve got another fifteen minutes.” He smirked. “Perhaps you could give me a lesson in your ninja approach to computers.”
Alyssa gave him a smile, but it was sad and distracted. “I wish I could,” she replied, feeling a bit more rueful than she cared to admit. “But I gotta run.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah,” she said.
“Very well,” he replied, a flicker of disappointment crossing his eyes. “Cheers, then.”
Alyssa nodded and turned quickly, surprised at the heaviness in her chest. She stepped toward the counter when she spotted a standing display of reading glasses. She considered for a moment.
This may help.
She approached the display and picked up a cat-eye, leopard print set then put on the glasses and looked at herself in the mirror.
Uh, maybe a bit much, she scowled. I hope he’s not watching me. She shook off the thought as she reached for another pair, a brown tortoise-shell frame with etched metal temples. She took out her ponytail and shook her hair loose before putting on the glasses. She squinted as she adjusted to her vision going blurry then scrutinized herself in the mirror again. The glasses accentuated her olive skin and high cheekbones, and the tortoise shell brought out the deep brown of her irises. Still, the tired look in her eyes and the glasses added at least five years to her age.
Some strategic eyeliner and I may just be able to pull this one off, she thought, still squinting. Between the glasses and the high heels, I really hope I won’t faceplant crossing the street.
“They suit you nicely,” the young man said from across the room.
I knew it!
She turned to him. “Thanks,” she replied, blushing.
“Sure about that coffee? Best latte in Bloomsbury here,” he said, regarding her. “You look like you could use one.”
“Maybe another time,” she said. “Besides, I’m more of an espresso type.”
He flashed a pensive smile and nodded as Alyssa grabbed her backpack and turned to the checkout.
Alyssa’s stomach fluttered with a quickening sense of anticipation as she passed the water fountain in the heart of the elegant square that served as the entryway to the London headquarters of the World Health Organization. This is either brilliant or really stupid. She stepped through the revolving glass door and headed for the reception counter with as confident a gait as the three-inch heels sanctioned.
Here we go.
The security guard lifted his head.“May I help you, Miss—?”
“Doctor Morgan,” Alyssa replied in her most mature voice and handed him the letter and her research associate ID. Her father had to jump through hoops to get her this ID card, but eventually Cairo University relented to his claims that it was a necessary for her safety when she accompanied him on his digs. Kade probably didn’t exactly have this in mind.
She pushed the new glasses up her nose with a solitary finger. “My equipment arrived this morning. I’m here to inspect it.”
The guard looked at the ID and read the letter then eyed her up and down.
“Doctor… Alyssa Morgan?”
“That’s correct,” Alyssa gave a frosty smile. “Is there a problem?”
“No, Miss, I mean, Dr. Morgan,” He looked at the letter again. “The letter appears to be in order, ma’am, but I do need to verify the request with your institution.”
Alyssa gave the guard a nervous smile.
“Is that truly necessary?” she asked. “I’ve been traveling all night from Peru and am quite eager to start the inspection.”
“Yes, ma’am. It will only take a minute. Shall I call the number on the letter?” He reached for the phone.
Alyssa’s chest tightened. She stared at the guard as he began dialing the number for the Dean of Archaeology.
I’m so screwed. Her gaze ping-ponged around the lobby, her mind racing for options.
I should have known this would never—
She froze when she spotted the young man from the Internet café walk through the door and stride toward her. You’ve gotta be kidding me! Can’t this guy take no for an answer? She opened her mouth.
“Ah, Dr. Morgan! There you are.” He hollered and waved at her before she could say a word. He strolled up to her and gave her a smirk.
“It’s so good to see you again,” he continued. “Professor Garrison has been expecting you for the inspection of the equipment. I trust you had a smooth trip?”
Alyssa’s mouth opened and closed, unable to speak. The young man pulled out his ID badge and gave her a look.
“Uh… yes, thank you—” she pulled her glasses down just enough to make out the name on his ID badge—“Paul. Quite nice.”
“So glad to hear that, ma’am.” Paul smiled and handed his badge to the security guard.
“Everything is in order, Blake,” he said. “Please register Dr. Morgan as a visitor to our department.”
The security guard considered for a moment then hung up the phone and took Paul’s badge. He scanned it, handed Alyssa a visitor badge and pointed to the X-ray scanner.
“Please place your items on the belt, Doctor.”
Alyssa nodded, willing herself to breathe, then laid her backpack on the belt and walked through the security scanner, with Paul following closely behind.
A few seconds later, they entered an elevator. Once the doors closed, Alyssa turned to Paul.
“What…? How did you know?” she asked, baffled.
He flashed her an enigmatic grin.
“I’m serious,” she kept her stern look.
Paul reached into his pocket and handed her a couple of folded pieces of paper. Her mouth fell open when she realized they were printouts of the letter she wrote.
“That whack you gave the printer did its job, apparently. There were a couple files in the print queue that came out right after you left.” A flush crept across his cheeks. “I couldn’t help taking a look at them. Sorry… curiosity sometimes gets the best of me.”
She eyed him guardedly for a few seconds, brows pulling in. “Why did you help me?” she asked, finally.
Paul studied her for several moments. “You looked like you could use it.” Then he smirked, his eyes crinkling. “And I desperately want another chance at that coffee—and a lesson in ma
rtial arts.”
Alyssa continued to eye him quietly. Finally, she extended her hand.
“I’m Alyssa—but you already know that.”
“Paul.” He accepted her hand with a grin. “But you already knew that, too.”
Alyssa found it easy to return his smile. “So, this is where all the techies work?”
“Sort of,” he replied. “I’m interning this summer. When I’m not facilitating a level three security breach, that is.” He hesitated. “So why the charade?”
Alyssa’s smile faded. “It’s a long story.”
“It’s a slow elevator.”
“My father… he’s an archaeologist. Some equipment was shipped here from a dig in Cairo. I was hoping—”
“Wait, your dad was involved with the cock-up in Cairo?”
“It was his expedition.”
Paul whistled. “Brilliant,” he said and scratched his scruffy beard. “Well, if the equipment just arrived today, it should still be in storage. It’s a good thing shipping and receiving is part of my intern duties.” He gave her a mischievous smirk and pressed the button for the basement. “Shall we have a little look?”
The man driving the silver Jaguar was acutely aware of his surroundings as he skillfully navigated the sedan through the traffic on the M11 toward London. Gavriel glanced at his watch and allowed himself a brief nod of satisfaction. He was making good time.
A beep on his phone indicated an incoming text. He looked down and read the message.
TARGET LOCATION: WHO STORAGE FACILITY, BASEMENT
SHIPMENT ORIGIN: CAIRO
SHIPMENT ID: 214902
SECURITY CREDENTIALS: PENDING
7 World Health Organization, London
Alyssa was keenly aware of the sound of their footsteps echoing down the long corridor as they exited the elevator and paced briskly toward the wide double-door at the end of the hallway.
“The video footage you mentioned,” Paul said, breaking the silence, “nobody has bothered to check it to see what really happened down there?”
Heir of Ra (Blood of Ra Book One) Page 5