They followed the flight attendant to the front of the plane. The smell of fresh leather enveloped Alyssa as she entered the first class section. A horseshoe-shaped bar at the front of the cabin was flanked by plush leather benches set along the sides of the plane. Alyssa followed the flight attendant past the bar and the waiter with his well-practiced smile.
When she entered the next cabin, she felt like she had been transported into the lobby of a five-star hotel. The entire width of the twenty-five-foot cabin was dedicated to two impossibly lavish suites. The suites were surrounded by partitions that completely enclosed them, secluding their occupants from the rest of the plane. The flight attendant turned to them.
“Welcome to the Meridian Airlines private suites, Miss Morgan and Mr. Matthews. My name is Kaya. I have the pleasure of being your personal flight hostess on this trip. The suite on the right is yours. The other suite will not be occupied during this flight.”
She pointed at the leather reclining chairs inside the suite. “Please make yourselves at home. You will find complimentary slippers, pajamas, and toiletries in the nightstand at either side of the bed.”
She waited for them to enter the suite. “We ask that the door remain open during boarding, takeoff, and landing. During all other times you are welcome to close the door for complete privacy. The entertainment system is controlled with these devices,” she handed them two tablets. “If there is anything at all that I can get you, please only ask, or press this icon on your tablet.”
She smiled. “While we wait for takeoff, may I bring you a refreshment? Champagne, perhaps, or a mimosa?”
Alyssa looked up from the tablet. “Uh… yeah, sure! A mimosa would be great.”
“Make that two!” echoed Paul.
“With pleasure,” she said. “I shall be right back.”
Alyssa glanced at Paul as she absorbed their home for the next seven hours. Their plush leather chairs faced the front of the plane where a fifty-inch flat screen hung suspended above a queen-sized bed. A single long-stemmed red rose lay in the center of the gold-embroidered white comforter. The plushy pillows made it almost irresistible to Alyssa. The interior walls were accented with rosewood and paintings hanging on either side of the door. Freshly-cut roses in a vase secured in the corner of the suite completed the décor. If it weren’t for the airline-sized windows along the right wall, Alyssa would have never believed that she was inside a plane.
Paul looked at Alyssa and grinned widely. “This is posh.”
Alyssa slipped off her shoes and put on the fuzzy slippers from the nightstand. She pressed a button to recline her seat and bring up the footrest. A moment later, Kaya returned with the drinks. Alyssa took the crystal glass and clinked it with Paul’s.
“Here’s to traveling in style,” she said.
She took a sip and allowed the combination of the freshly squeezed orange juice and champagne to burst in her palate. As she savored the taste, she heard Kaya greet another passenger and walk toward the front of the plane. Lazily, Alyssa turned her head and caught a glimpse of a tall man dressed in an impeccably tailored suit. She spotted a brown leather-bound notebook in his hand a moment before he disappeared into the private cabin across the aisle.
She turned to Paul. “I thought Kaya said the cabin across from us was going to be empty.”
He shrugged. “Maybe somebody else used their miles at the last moment.”
“Unlikely. Did you see that suit? That getup alone will buy this ticket.”
“Whatever you say,” he replied. “Don’t worry. If we’re not safe on an airplane, we won’t be safe anywhere. Besides, I’m sure we’ll have enough personal attention from Kaya even with another passenger here.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” she said, stretching. “I want to get to work when we’re airborne and the door is closed. Until then,” she put on the noise-canceling headphones, “I’m going to make the best of this.”
Alyssa leaned her head back into the soft pillow and closed her eyes. She was asleep after three breaths.
In her sleep, Alyssa was blissfully unaware of the man wearing dark sunglasses who had been following them since their arrival at the airport. He walked into the first class cabin and sat in his seat. He took off the sunglasses revealing raw burns in his eyes. Grimacing with pain, Gavriel dialed a number on his cell phone.
Drake sat in his office chair. He answered the phone on the first ring.
“I’m on the plane. They are in a private suite,” Gavriel said.
“You know what to do,” Drake replied. “Do not fail me again.”
He hung up the phone and faced Tasha.
“It’s only a matter of time now,” he said.
She took a deep breath, “Will, perhaps this… this is too dangerous. George said—”
“Perhaps we should reconsider Lord Renley’s commitment to the Society?”
“He feels the risk is too great.”
“He is a coward.”
“Some things are too dangerous. They can’t be controlled.”
He studied her impassively, a threatening glow creeping into his eyes. “Is that why Renley sent you to me? To control me? To spy on me?”
She returned his gaze silently, intently aware of the hair lifting on the nape of her neck and on her arms.
Drake leaned forward. “Did you tell Renley about their flight to Cairo?”
Tasha pressed her lips into a fine line.
“Did you?”
“I owe him my life.” She moved her hand to his face. He brushed it away.
“Get out.”
“Will, please—”
“Leave now,” he said, his voice quiet and menacing.
Alyssa woke to the hum of the engines. Startled, she looked at Paul. “How long was I out?”
“Not even an hour. We just got up to cruising altitude,” he replied. “Hungry?”
Alyssa felt her stomach growl. “Starving. The ham and egg biscuit this morning didn’t do the trick.” She swallowed hard.
Paul smiled and handed her the leather-covered menu. She opened it. Marinated lamb loin with coriander jus… Spicy tuna tartare… Veal paupiette stuffed with dried fruits… She beamed at Paul.
“I know, right? Sure as heck beats ‘Chicken or Pasta’ in coach,” he said. “I was really hoping you’d wake up soon. I don’t know how much longer I could have kept myself from drooling all over the menu.” He grinned. “So, what shall it be?”
An hour later, Alyssa looked at Paul guiltily as she nibbled on the post-dessert cheese plate and popped a grape into her mouth. She took a small sip of her espresso. “I haven’t eaten this well or this much since the dig in Carnac in January,” she said. “Good God, can you imagine doing this all the time?”
Paul rubbed his stomach and gave a satisfied sigh in reply. He opened his mouth, but his words were interrupted by a knock on their door.
“Come in,” they said in unison.
The door opened slowly. Alyssa felt a sudden chill as she recognized the tall man from the other suite standing in the doorway. He was as slim and elegant as a flamenco dancer; his dark eyes and glossy hair produced a striking contrast to his pale skin. Standing with perfect posture, he seemed as comfortable in his crisply pressed suit as Alyssa was in her favorite sweatshirt. He held a cognac snifter in his left hand and swirled it slowly.
“My apologies for intruding,” he said, his voice ringing with the Queen’s English, his cool expression at odds with his gracious words. “May I request a minute of your time?”
Alyssa felt Paul tense in the seat next to her. She gently put her hand on his arm. “It’s been a very long day,” she said with forced politeness. “My friend and I were just about ready to take a nap.”
“Indeed, the hour has grown late,” the man replied as he entered the suite. He extended a flawlessly manicured hand to her. Alyssa caught sight of the impossibly thin Patek Philippe watch around his right wrist.
“Miss Morgan.” It was a statement more th
an a question.
Alyssa inhaled sharply. “You have me at a disadvantage,” she took his hand, her skin tingling.
“George Renley, at your service,” he said with the slightest bow of his head. His handshake was cool and measured.
Renley faced Paul. “Mr. Matthews,” he said.
“What do you want?” Paul said.
If Renley took offense at Paul’s harsh tone, his measured smile did not betray it.
“Very well, then. Let us dispense with the formalities,” he replied. “You have something in your possession that is rightfully mine.”
Before Alyssa could react, Paul leaped out of his seat and grabbed Renley’s jacket, pushing him against the wall. “Paul, no!” she yelled.
“You would do well to heed Miss Morgan’s advice,” Renley said, his arms at his side, his cold gaze a silent warning to Paul.
“You tried to have us killed, you bastard!” Paul snarled, his nostrils flaring.
Renley’s expression shifted for an instant.
“You misjudge me, Mr. Matthews. I assure you, I had absolutely no involvement with the events at the World Health Organization. I employ more—sophisticated—methods to achieve my goals. Now, please, unhand the suit.”
“You mean you buy people,” Alyssa said, contempt filling her voice. “How can we trust that you weren’t the one who hired that killer?”
Renley fixed a steely gaze on Alyssa. “Miss Morgan, I am a collector, I safeguard rare items. I admit that I have gone to great lengths to obtain the objects of my desire. However, killing or paying to have somebody killed is not among my practices.”
Alyssa studied him coolly. His eyes were intelligent—calculating, even—but they lacked the flatness of a killer’s empty stare.
“Let him speak,” she said.
“Alyssa—”
“Paul, please, I want to hear what he has to say.”
Paul shot her a dismayed glance but remained silent. He released Renley and took a step back, crossing his arms across his chest. “You have two minutes,” he said coldly.
“Thank you,” Renley replied. He smoothed his jacket and swirled his snifter before taking a slow sip of the cognac. “It may be of interest to you that your father and I have had numerous mutually beneficial business arrangements.”
Alyssa stared at him. “You know my father?”
“I became interested in Dr. Morgan’s research several years ago and have since provided financial auspices for three of his and Dr. Wallace’s expeditions.”
“What?” Paul shot back. “You’ve been sponsoring Alyssa’s father’s expeditions?” He turned to Alyssa. “This is absurd. How do we know that what he’s saying is true?”
“Two weeks ago, I provided a substantial donation to the Egyptian Supreme Council of Antiquities,” Renley continued, ignoring Paul. “The letter accompanying the donation pronounced my keen interest concerning Dr. Morgan’s studies of the Hall of Records.”
“You mean—” Alyssa started.
“Yes, Miss Morgan,” he replied, steadily. “I enabled your father’s pursuit of his studies and passions. So, as you can undoubtedly understand, from my standpoint, I am entitled to a certain claim—”
“I don’t care what you think you’re entitled to,” Paul interrupted. “You have no idea what we’ve—”
“Did you have anything to do with what happened to my father’s expedition?” Alyssa asked.
“My dear Miss Morgan,” Renley spread his hands, “please tell me what would possess me to sabotage an expedition I’m financing.”
Alyssa considered the reply. “Why are you so interested in the Hall of Records?”
Renley reached inside his jacket and took out a brown leather notebook.
“My great-grandfather, Lord George Renley II, became obsessed with the idea of discovering the hall.” He held the notebook out to her. “He recorded all his research within these pages.” Alyssa squinted as she tried to make out the embossed sigil on the front cover.
“Ultimately, he collected enough evidence to mount an expedition to the Giza Plateau in 1913,” Renley continued. “Regrettably, his entire party vanished without a trace. Over a decade of his research was lost and, for almost a century, nobody has been able to follow his trail of leads or recover any of his work.”
“Until my father,” Alyssa said. “So that’s why you’ve been financing his research. You wanted him to pick up the pieces.”
“Dr. Morgan demonstrated remarkable capability as both an archeologist and a researcher,” Renley continued, his tone flat and unhurried. “His methods proved quite successful in retrieving many of my great-grandfather’s leads and ultimately provided sufficient evidence to convince the Egyptian Council of Antiquities—with some additional enticement—to grant the permits for the excavation.”
“You mean you bribed the council. And now my father is in the hospital and we have people after us who want us dead.”
Renley’s expression turned dark. “You do not know with whom you are dealing. I can provide protection for you.”
“And you’re offering this purely out of the kindness of your heart,” she sneered.
“I am simply asking for what should have been in my possession in the first place.”
Paul faced Alyssa. “This is ridiculous. Why are we still listening to him?”
Renley regarded Paul in silence. Finally, he said, “Mr. Matthews, do you know that the Hall of Records was so named because it is rumored to have contained records created by Thoth, the scribe to the Gods? It is said that the person who can decipher the knowledge and use it to their advantage will be invincible. And immortal.”
“Yet you just want to lock up the key to this power with the rest of your precious artifacts.” Alyssa raised her eyebrows. “To safeguard it.”
“I believe that certain things are better left alone.”
“This is nothing more than a game to you, isn’t it?” Alyssa said as she slowly stood up. “You dress in your fine clothes, wear fancy watches and drink expensive cognac. You’ve used people as pawns all your life. You don’t even realize how sick your games are to the rest of us.” She crossed her arms. “We both have lost a great deal because of the Hall of Records, Lord Renley, but I cannot permit the only item that may hold the answer to my father’s cure to leave our possession. I’m sorry, this particular object of your desire is not for sale or barter.”
She turned to Paul then back to Renley. “Thank you for your visit. Mr. Matthews and I are ready to retire for the evening.”
Renley scowled, which consisted of the barest downturn of the corner of his lips. He remained silent for several moments before slowly nodding. “As you wish, Miss Morgan,” he replied, his voice flat. He turned around unhurriedly and left the suite.
After Renley closed the door behind him, Alyssa let out a sigh and fell back into the chair. She felt her hands tremble and gripped the armrests tight. She took a deep breath and looked up at Paul.
Paul rubbed the back of his neck. “You don’t seriously believe a word he said about his great-grandfather. Renley may have financed some of your father’s expeditions, but the story about the lost expedition sounds far-fetched. Seems like a perfect sob story to get sympathy from us.”
“Did you see the sigil on his notebook?” Alyssa said, straining her memory. “It was a griffin. I could have sworn I’ve seen it somewhere before.”
“An entire party lost on the Giza Plateau,” Paul continued. “That just sounds—”
Alyssa pointed at the phone in the seat.
“Kaya did say the calls were complimentary, right?”
Jacob’s phone lit up and the signature theme from Halo 3 cut through the silence of the pitch-black hotel room. His hand appeared from under the bed covers and reached toward the nightstand. Groggily, he fumbled for his phone and brought it to his ear.
“Hey, Jake.”
He bolted up at the sound of her voice. “Alyssa!”
“I didn’t wake you, did
I?”
Jacob stifled a yawn. “No, no… why would I be sleeping? That would be a silly thing to do at four a.m.” He rubbed his eyes, half asleep. “Where are you?”
“Long story. I need a favor.”
“I’m shocked.”
“I need you to find anything that you can about a Lord George Renley and an expedition to the Giza Plateau in 1913.”
“That all?”
“Yes—no, wait!”
“Uh-huh…”
“See what you can find about a griffin coat-of-arms.”
“Griffin?”
“The mythical creature. The head, wings and front legs of an eagle, and the body and tail of a lion.”
Jake stifled yet another yawn. “So, kinda like a platypus, except a lot more badass?”
“Bye, Jake.”
Alyssa shook her head and hung up the phone. Paul looked at her for several seconds with a curious expression.
“Who was that?” he asked, sheepishly.
“Who, that?” Alyssa replied, sounding more self-conscious than she cared to admit. “That was Jake… Jacob, I mean. He’s Kade’s student. He stayed behind in Peru to manage the dig.”
“Are you two…? Is he your…?” Paul stumbled.
“Jake?” She laughed, feeling a flush creep across her cheeks. “No, of course not.” Her gaze lingered on Paul a heartbeat longer than she intended before she continued, only too happy to change the topic, “Anyway, if Renley is right—”
“We’re bollocked.”
She grinned. “But we do have an advantage.”
“Our youthful exuberance?”
“We can see into the future. In the past.”
Paul frowned as she stood up and moved to the locker with the carry-on luggage. He let out a long sigh when she pulled out the big duffel bag.
“Alyssa…”
“There’s only one way to find out what we’re up against,” she said. “I do believe it’s time for work, Mr. Matthews.”
She pulled out the LIDAR and held it out to him. “You did pay attention when Clay was teaching you how to work this, right?”
Heir of Ra (Blood of Ra Book One) Page 12