Hunt Through Napoleon's Web

Chapter 11

“Gabriel!”

“Hey!” He caught his sister in his arms as she rushed unsteadily forward.

Kemnebi shut the door behind them and locked it from the outside.

Lucy was shivering although it wasn’t at all cold in the room. She seemed thinner even than the time he’d seen her in Istanbul—their first meeting after nine years apart—and she’d been awfully thin then. Gabriel took hold of her arms and stepped back to look at her.

She was dressed in blue jeans and a black T-shirt with a peeling image of the Eiffel Tower on it in white. Her short-cropped hair had recently been dyed dark green down to the roots. A tattoo of entwined serpents poked out from under one of the T-shirt’s short sleeves, one of a prowling jaguar from under the other. There was a piercing in her left eyebrow that Gabriel hadn’t noticed six months earlier.

“Are you all right?”

“Yeah. I’m okay.”

“You look like you’ve lost weight.”

“You try being kidnapped sometime. Best diet in the world.”

Gabriel looked around the room. It looked more like a bedroom than like a cell, complete with a desk, a chest of drawers, a bookshelf full of books and magazines, a small television set. An open door led to a bathroom with a shower. There was even a window—though like the ones downstairs it was securely boarded up, and it looked like they’d installed metal bars across it outside the glass for good measure. Which made it a cell no matter how nice the furnishings might be.

“I’m going to get you out of here, Lucy.”

“Cifer,” she said, quietly but firmly.

He put one hand along the side of her face, felt a muscle in her cheek tremble. “Did they hurt you?”

She shook her head. “Not too bad. I got a bit banged up when they broke into my apartment—but so did they. And I haven’t exactly been a shrinking wallflower since. It’s why they keep drugging me. You saw Chigaru out there in the hall?”

“The guy with the scratches on his face?”

“Guess who gave ’em to him?” She held up her right hand and made a clawing motion through the air. She swayed a bit as she did so, though, and Gabriel led her over to the bed, sat her down. He pulled out a chair and sat beside her.

“Chigaru,” she said. “He told me it means ‘hound.’ His parents knew what they were doing when they named him.”

“Why?” Gabriel said. “What did he do to you?”

“Less than he wanted to,” Lucy said.

Gabriel found his fists clenching involuntarily.

“It’s okay, Gabriel,” Lucy said, patting him on one fist. “I can take care of myself. Hell, I figured maybe he’d be my ticket out of here. I’ve slept with worse-looking guys for less.”

“There are some things an older brother doesn’t need to know,” Gabriel muttered, standing up again, pacing.

“How’d you find me?” Lucy asked.

“They found me,” Gabriel said. “Sent a note to Michael saying my helping them was the price for letting you go.”

“Helping them do what?”

“Find something they’re looking for,” Gabriel said. “A stone—an artifact from ancient Egypt that they say is hidden in Corsica.”

“Why Corsica?”

“It’s a long story,” Gabriel said.

Lucy stared at him, concerned. “Are you going to do it?”

“I’m going to do what it takes to get you out of here.”

“Do you really think they’ll let me go if you get this thing for them? That they’ll let you go . . . ?”

Gabriel shook his head. “But they aren’t going to hurt either of us as long as they still need me to get it. That gives us an advantage.”

“A small one,” she said.

“Yeah,” Gabriel said, but he grinned and chucked her gently under the chin. “But how much of one do I need?”

He saw her eyes warm to the prospect of a rescue. She’d always believed in him—more than she should have, maybe. But a bit of confidence wasn’t a bad thing, a bit of hope. She needed something to restore her strength.

Some food would help. He went to the door and pounded on it with the side of his fist.

“What are you doing?” she said.

“Getting you some food.”

The lock turned and the door opened. It was Chigaru.

“Hey,” Gabriel said, his voice low. “I want you to bring her some food. Right now. And—hold on.” Chigaru had started to turn away, but Gabriel snagged the front of his shirt in his fist, turned him around. Chiagru looked down at the bunched fabric angrily. “I want you to know something else. If you touch my sister again, I’ll kill you. Do we understand each other?”

“Take your hand off me,” Chigaru said.

“Do we understand each other?”

The look in Gabriel’s eyes was impossible not to understand. Gabriel let go of Chigaru’s shirt, smoothed down the creased fabric. “Good,” he said. “Now—food.”

Gabriel shut the door. He heard Chigaru’s footsteps going away. He’d left it unlocked, and Gabriel thought for a moment of trying to break Lucy out right now, while the door was open and Chigaru was away from his post. But it wasn’t feasible—not with three stories of armed men between them and the tunnel, and not with Lucy barely steady enough to stand. With some food in her, some more time for the drugs to get out of her system . . . maybe. But not yet.

“I’m going to talk to Amun and get him to stop giving you the drugs,” Gabriel said. “I’ll tell him you’re going to be cooperative now.”

“Who’s Amun?”

“Tall guy, goatee, fez?”

She shook her head. “Haven’t met him. Have you seen Khufu yet?”

“Who’s Khufu?”

“The boss around here,” she said. “Calls himself ‘Khufu the Second.’ Like he’s a pharaoh. Carries a scepter, wears a mask, this traditional Egyptian thing . . . He’s the man in charge.”

“I thought Amun was—”

“I don’t know who Amun is,” Lucy said, “but he’s not in charge. You meet Khufu, you know he’s the boss.”

She lay back on the bed. Her eyes were sliding shut, though she was fighting to keep them open.

“You shouldn’t have come,” she said. “I don’t want you hurt because of me.”

“What do you mean, shouldn’t have come?” He reached out and stroked her cheek. “I’m your brother. Of course I’m going to come.”

“I bet Michael’s mad at me,” she mumbled.

“He’s worried about you,” Gabriel said.

“He’s always worried. About everything.”

“So he’s more worried than normal. He cares about you, you know.”

“Even though I haven’t talked to him since I was seventeen?”

“Even though,” Gabriel said. “You’re still his sister.”

Her eyes slid shut and this time they stayed shut.

“I’m glad,” she said, her voice very tired, “that at least they’re not asking for money. That’s what I figured they wanted. And I really didn’t want Michael paying ransom for me. You know how I feel about the money.”

“Yeah, I know.” Gabriel smoothed her hair. “When this is all over, maybe you can explain it to Michael. Over a nice dinner in New York.”

She sleepily shook her head. “Not happening.”

“Why not?” Gabriel said, but at that moment the door swung open and Chigaru entered carrying a tray. He put it down on the desk, glared at Gabriel, and left without a word.

There was a plate of rice, some strips of grilled chicken, a little pile of hummus. A bottle of water accompanied it.

“Try to get some down,” Gabriel said—but when he turned to look at Lucy he saw she was asleep.

Well. It would keep. Hopefully she’d eat some when she woke up, maybe even a bite or two of the chicken. Not that he was too optimistic. Lucy had been a committed vegetarian since childhood.

Gabriel went over to the window. There were indeed bars attached on the outside of the glass pane. The wooden boards were screwed into the wall over them. Peering through the cracks between the boards he could just make out the bougainvillea-covered wall of the building across the street.

And what about the building they were in? Gabriel remembered his brief look at it when they’d gotten out of the limo. There was no bougainvillea here. No fire escape, no drainpipe. Nothing to hold onto or to shimmy down. Just three sheer stories of sandstone wall.

Gabriel raised the window, put his hand through the bars, and tested the strength of the boards. They seemed firmly attached. The only thing was, as Gabriel knew from caving and climbing, sandstone was soft. You could drive a piton into it barehanded if you had to, and pull it out again afterward; whatever screws they’d used to attach these boards should come out, too, with enough force. He gave one of the boards a few blows with the heel of his hand. After three or four, he felt it loosen slightly, and after a few more it was moving noticeably. One more strike, he thought, and it would come free.

Gabriel closed the window and went back to the chair. Lucy was sitting up, chewing on a spoonful of rice.

“I thought you were asleep,” he said.

“I was, till you started banging on the window.”

They heard a hand at the doorknob outside, saw it turn.

“Eat,” Gabriel whispered quickly, “and rest—and be prepared to move, fast, when I come for you.”

The door opened and Kemnebi stuck his head inside. He gestured to Gabriel.

“Come,” he said again.

Gabriel stood. “All right. I’m going to want to talk to Amun.”

“Later,” Kemnebi said.

“What do you mean, later? I want to talk to him now.”

“Later,” the big man repeated. “Khufu awaits.”