Alberto’s eyes glowed with the telling, asking a few pertinent questions, nodding every now and then. “Yes, yes…”
Rachel finished. “That’s all we know.”
Alberto turned to Raoul. “She’s lying.”
“I thought so.” He swung the ax down.
4:16 P.M.
RAOUL ENJOYED the woman’s scream.
He pulled his ax head from where it had embedded in the deck. He had missed the captive’s fingertips by the breadth of a hair. He yanked the ax to his shoulder and turned to the woman. Her face had paled to a shiny translucency.
“Next time, it’s for real,” he warned.
Dr. Alberto stepped forward. “Our large friend here was good enough to get an angled flash on that center pyramid. It shows a square hole in its surface. Something you failed to mention. And a sin of omission is as good as a lie. Is that not so, Raoul?”
He raised the ax. “Shall we try again?”
Alberto leaned closer to Rachel. “There’s no need for your friend to come to harm. I know something must have been taken from the tomb. It makes no sense to blindly point to Rome without an additional clue. What did you take from the pyramid?”
Tears rolled down her face.
Raoul read the tortured agony in every line of her face. He grew hard, remembering a few moments ago. Through a one-way mirror, he had spied as one of the captain’s bitches had fingered through all the woman’s private places. He had wanted to perform the body-cavity search himself, but the captain had refused. His boat, his rule. Raoul hadn’t pressed. The captain was in a sour enough mood upon learning of Seichan’s demise, lost with so many of Raoul’s men.
Besides, he would soon be performing his own private inspection of the woman…but he planned on being much less gentle.
“What was taken?” Alberto pressed.
Raoul widened his stance, hefting the ax higher over his head. His freshly sutured hand ached, but he ignored it. Maybe she wouldn’t tell…maybe this could be stretched out….
But the woman cracked. “A key…a gold key,” she whimpered, then sank to her knees on the deck. “Gray…Commander Pierce has it.”
Behind her tears, Raoul heard a trace of hope in her voice.
He knew a way to squash that.
He brought the ax down in a steady hard swing. The ax severed the man’s hand at the wrist.
4:34 P.M.
IT’S TIME to go,” Gray said.
He had given Vigor and Kat an additional forty-five minutes to call all the local hospitals and medical centers, even discreet calls to the municipal police. Maybe they had been injured, unable to contact them. Or they were cooling their heels in a jail cell.
Gray stood up as his sat-phone rang from his pack.
All eyes turned.
“Thank God,” Vigor gasped.
Only a handful of people had the phone’s number: Director Crowe and his teammates.
Gray grabbed his phone and swung up its antenna. He moved closer to the window. “Commander Pierce,” he said.
“I will keep this brief, so there’s no confusion.”
Gray stiffened. It was Raoul. That could only mean one thing…
“We have the woman and your teammate. You’ll do exactly as we say or we’ll be mailing their heads to Washington and Rome…after we’re done playing with their bodies, of course.”
“How do I know they’re still—?”
A shuffle sounded at the other end. A new voice gasped. He heard the tears behind the words. “They…I…they cut off Monk’s hand. He—”
The phone was taken away.
Gray tried not to react. Now was not the time. Still, his fingers clenched hard to the phone. His heart climbed into his throat, constricting his words.
“What do you want?”
“The gold key from the tomb,” Raoul said.
So they knew about it. Gray understood why Rachel had revealed the secret. How could she not? She must have traded the information for Monk’s life. They were safe as long as the Court knew Gray retained the key. But that didn’t mean worse mutilations would not be performed if he didn’t cooperate. He remembered the condition of the tortured priests in Milan.
“You want a trade,” he said coldly.
“There is an EgyptAir flight leaving Alexandria at 2100 hours for Geneva, Switzerland. You will be on that flight. You alone. We will have false papers and tickets in a locker, so no computer searches will trace your flight.” Directions to the locker followed. “You will not contact your superiors…either in Washington or Rome. If you do, we’ll know. Is that understood?”
“Yes,” he bit off. “But how do I know you’ll stick to your end of the bargain?”
“You don’t. But as a gesture of goodwill, when you land in Geneva, I’ll contact you again. If you follow our directions precisely, I’ll free your man. He’ll be sent to a local Swiss hospital. We will pass on satisfactory confirmation of this for you. But the woman will remain in custody until you give over the gold key.”
Gray knew the offer to free Monk was probably sincere, but not out of goodwill. Monk’s life was an advance on the deal, a token to lure Gray into cooperating. He tried to shut out Rachel’s earlier words. They had cut off Monk’s hand.
He had no choice.
“I’ll be on the flight,” he said.
Raoul was not done. “The others on the team…the bitch and the monsignor…are free to go as long as they stay quiet and out of the way. If either sets foot in Italy or Switzerland, the deal is off.”
Gray frowned. He understood keeping the others out of Switzerland…but why Italy? Then it struck him. He pictured Rachel’s map. The line he had drawn. Pointing to Rome. Rachel had revealed much—but not all.
Good girl.
“Agreed,” Gray said, his mind already wheeling out in various scenarios.
“Any sign of subterfuge and you’ll never see the woman or your teammate again…except for body parts mailed out daily.” The connection ended.
Gray lowered the phone and turned to the others. He repeated the conversation verbatim, so all would understand. “I will be on that flight.”
Vigor’s face had drained of blood, his worst fears realized.
“They could ambush you at any point,” Kat said.
He nodded. “But I believe as long as I keep moving toward them, they’ll let me. They’ll not risk losing the key in a failed attempt.”
“And what about us?” Vigor asked.