Hunt Through Napoleon's Web

Chapter 15

Dawn was breaking, and the Djemaa el Fna was already awake.

The melodic, soulful morning prayers boomed over loudspeakers mounted high on poles throughout the square. It was standard procedure to broadcast them in nearly every major city in Morocco. Gabriel and Lucy ran past dozens of workers and tradesmen, shopkeepers and vendors and performers, all bowing close to the ground. A few looked up as they passed, more as the Alliance guards came running after them moments later.

There were no tourists in the square yet, and no workers at work. As soon as the prayers were completed it would be swarmed by people beginning their day, a crowd among which Gabriel and Lucy might lose themselves. But while the sacred ritual was taking place, they could be seen from blocks away.

“We need somewhere to hide,” he said, taking a corner and pulling Lucy after him. “We can’t stay out in the open.”

Lucy pointed to a side street where a number of carts, wagons, vans, and cars were parked. “Over there.”

They ran. But after his ordeal the previous day, Gabriel was finding himself short of breath and hurting, and he knew Lucy was probably feeling similar following her period of drugged captivity. Behind them, he heard running footsteps drawing near. He glanced back. Their pursuers weren’t in sight yet—but they weren’t going to be able to make it to the side street before they were.

Gabriel pulled Lucy into an alcove beside a shop whose window display showed bulging sacks of grain and cereal. Two Alliance men appeared an instant later, running at full speed. Gabriel and Lucy pressed themselves back against the stone wall. The men sprinted past without breaking stride.

Once they’d gone, Gabriel pulled the picks out of his belt and made quick work of the lock on the shop’s door. No alarm went off, thankfully, and he and Lucy entered, relocking the door behind them and walking quickly to the rear of the space. They crouched behind a tall stack of burlap bags. Gabriel held his finger to his lips. They heard the men returning, panting, talking to each other furiously in Arabic. He understood only every tenth word, but the general tenor of the conversation was easy enough to guess: Where did they go? They must be hiding!

They tried the door, rattling the knob. Then a muttered curse came from one of the men, followed by the sound of departing footsteps.

Gabriel waited a full two minutes before slowly raising his head over the grain sacks. He couldn’t see much from where they were, but the little he could see suggested that the men were at least not waiting for them directly outside. He motioned for Lucy to stay where she was and crept to the front of the store in a low crouch. He scanned the area from every angle the store’s front window permitted. Nothing. They seemed to be safe for the moment.

He returned to Lucy and dropped heavily to the floor beside her.

“They’re gone. For now.”

“So what do we do? You have a plan?”

“No,” he said.

Her brow wrinkled. “You’re joking, right?”

“I’ll think of something,” he said.

“At least we’re out of the Casa del Khufu,” she said. “I was getting pretty tired of that place.”

The loudspeakers went quiet. The morning prayers were over.

“There’ll be people all over the place in a few minutes,” Gabriel said. “We can stay in here till it’s crowded and then slip out and blend in.”

“Neither of us is exactly the blending type,” Lucy said.

Gabriel thought of Sammi, tucking her red hair under a headscarf at the bazaar in Cairo. “We’ll do the best we can.”

“We need to get out of the city,” Lucy said.

“And to a phone,” he said, scanning the area around the store’s front counter for one. There was none in sight. Apparently, like many people in this part of the world, the shopkeeper relied on his mobile. “If I can reach Michael, he can get us on a plane. I want to try Sammi again, too.”

“Sammi?” Lucy asked. “My Sammi? What are you talking about?”

Too late, he realized he hadn’t told her that part of the story before. “She came with me to Cairo, from Nice.”

“What were you doing in Nice?”

“I went to your apartment. Wanted to see if I could find any sign of where they’d taken you.”

“And Sammi . . . ?”

“She was doing the same thing,” Gabriel said. “She insisted on coming along.”

“So . . . what happened?” Gabriel could hear the fear in her voice.

“I don’t know. We agreed she’d follow me from a distance when I went to meet the Alliance. But we lost contact in Cairo.” He didn’t tell her that Amun had said she’d been captured, maybe killed. Even if it was true, Lucy didn’t need to hear it right now. “She’s probably still in Cairo, wondering what the hell happened to me.”

“Why did you let her come with you?”

He held up his hands. “I tried to stop her. She’s a stubborn girl. Just like you.”

A thin smile appeared on Lucy’s face, but it didn’t stay there long. “I hope she’s okay.”

“Me, too,” Gabriel said. “I want you both somewhere safe while I take care of this business with the Alliance.”

“What ‘business’?”

“They found you in Nice—they won’t stop hunting just because you’ve gone somewhere else. Not now. They’ve got a score to settle now. Besides,” Gabriel said, “if that stone’s out there like they said, I can’t just let it fall into their hands.”

“Why? For god’s sake, Gabriel, what does it matter who’s got some old stone? Haven’t you got enough old stones already?”

“Not one like this,” Gabriel said. “Not if what they said about it is true.”

She shrugged, let her eyes slide shut. “All right. Do what you have to,” she said.

“What,” Gabriel said, “you’re not going to insist on coming with me?”

“Not a chance,” Lucy said. “I just want to get the hell out of here.”

It didn’t take long for people to start filling the square. Gabriel heard the first loud calls that indicated the water sellers had arrived. Sounds of shops opening and people greeting each other.

The door to the grain shop opened and, peeking up from behind the sacks, Gabriel saw the shopkeeper put down a bag and strap on an apron. The first customers entered directly behind him, a pair of women in Moroccan dress, followed by a gray-haired husband and wife with matching cameras around their necks. Gabriel and Lucy stood as the couple walked past and casually exited the store behind them.

The sun was bright now and the square was full. The same complement of acrobats, musicians, mendicants, and food sellers were in place and at work. A pair of early morning tour buses had parked nose-to-tail on the less populated side of the square and were disgorging passengers dressed in knee-length shorts and shirts with resort logos printed across the front. They fanned themselves with folded pamphlets, sweating already even though the real heat of the day was still hours away.

Lucy blinked in the glare and ran her fingers through her hair, which was standing up in spiky green clumps.

“You want me to blend in,” she muttered.

“Come on.”

They walked toward the group of tourists behind the nearer of the buses. A Moroccan guide was speaking to them through an electric megaphone.

“We are now going into the older portion of the Djemaa el Fna. Please to walk along this side of the square. We will stay another thirty minutes. Please to buy what beautiful souvenirs you find. Please to return to the bus by nine o’clock. As soon as everyone is back we will leave and travel to the beautiful Majorelle Garden.”

Gabriel and Lucy merged into the crowd, most of whom appeared to be American judging by their accents.

“Can’t we just get a taxi?” Lucy whispered

“I’m afraid all the money we’ve got is what your friend Chigaru had in his wallet. And the Alliance doesn’t seem to pay its people very well.” On the plane ride into Morocco, Amun had made Gabriel empty his pockets—less, Gabriel figured, as a matter of theft than to reduce his mobility if somehow he managed to get away. It was working.

The tour group stopped at a basket shop, a jewelry shop; they spent some time at a fruit stand. Then they walked toward a familiar street. At the far end Gabriel saw a sign that brought him up short—NIZAN’S CARPETS.

“Let’s slip away, Lucy. Slowly and quietly.”

But it was too late. Nizan stood in front of the shop, one hand raised to greet the morning’s customers. His eyes fell on Gabriel, and his smile abruptly vanished. He turned and shouted something in Arabic toward the back of the shop.

“Go. Go,” Gabriel said, pushing Lucy into motion. They took off across the square, threading between the knots of tourists and muttering apologies on the run for the occasional collision. The square was crowded enough already at this hour that it was difficult to move with any speed. The only good thing about the congestion was that it made things equally hard for their pursuers.

Gabriel looked back. Kemnebi and two other men had come out of the carpet shop. Nizan pointed in Gabriel’s direction.

Gabriel pulled Lucy toward the section where the crowd was thickest, a wall of people facing one direction, watching something. Lucy speared right through them, slipping between a pair of men holding their cameras up to their eyes. Gabriel followed. He stumbled into an open area, in the center of which a performer was busy—

Charming snakes.

The man, wearing an open vest over his skinny frame and a turban on his head, held several serpents in his arms. At his feet several more were coiled—a couple of cobras, a viper, an asp. He sang to the reptiles in a high-pitched voice that Gabriel thought would be enough to make him take a bite out of the guy if he were a snake, but the snakes appeared to be entranced by it.

Lucy had plunged into the circle at top speed and it took her a few steps to come to a halt. She caught herself up, arms windmilling to keep her from falling forward. There was a cobra at her feet. It twisted to face her and hissed. She reflexively stepped sideways, bumping into the covered basket by the charmer’s side. The man jumped up, shouting, reaching for it, but not in time. The lid toppled off and the basket went over, spilling its contents.

Suddenly there were two dozen snakes on the ground, spreading in every direction. The crowd shrank back with a collective intake of breath. Two people screamed and several bolted for safety, though most stayed frozen in place. A few were snapping photos as quickly as they could.

Lucy, meanwhile, had snakes on every side of her—she couldn’t take a step without coming within striking distance of at least one.

“Don’t move,” Gabriel said. He came closer, watching the snakes carefully. He’d have thought the charmer would have milked their venom before putting them in the basket—but betting on that could be a deadly proposition.

The big cobra was still the one closest to Lucy. Gabriel circled around till he was beside it, then aimed a careful kick at its raised head with the toe of his boot. It went flying. The crowd scurried out of its way, and it landed hissing.

Gabriel took hold of another snake—an asp—behind its head just as it darted toward Lucy’s leg. He flung it aside. “Here,” he called, reaching out an arm. Lucy leaped toward him and he snatched her off her feet, carrying her over the snakes between them. One reared up and snapped at her heels, but its jaws closed on air. Lucy clasped her arms around her brother’s neck and Gabriel ran, not putting her down till they were a safe distance away.

“Are you okay? Can you walk?”

Her eyes were wide with fear, but she nodded. Gabriel let her go and they took off. They carefully skirted the edge of another circle of tourists. This one appeared to be watching nothing more venomous than a troupe of acrobats—but you never knew what else might be going on in the center of the circle, and one encounter with the local wildlife was enough for any morning.

Gabriel tried to keep an eye out for the Alliance men, but it was impossible in this chaos. Occasionally he’d glimpse a familiar scowling face or a raised arm with a gun in it, but he was sure there were other men, equally dangerous, that he wasn’t spotting. They, on the other hand, wouldn’t be having much trouble keeping an eye on him and Lucy. The only thing he could do was keep pushing toward the edge, toward a place where they could hide, or a car they could use to get away—

Suddenly, a hand reached between a pair of people behind them and took hold of Gabriel’s shoulder. He tried to shake free, but it clung mercilessly. From the weight, he’d have bet money—if he’d had any money worth betting—that it was Kemnebi’s.

Gabriel bent at the knees and spun, launching a punch behind him. It collided with the rock-hard boulder of flesh that was Kemnebi’s midsection.

The big man reached in and encircled Gabriel with his arms, ignoring the punch as if it had been a pat from a child. He lifted Gabriel off his feet and began constricting, squeezing Gabriel’s chest with the strength of an automobile crusher. Gabriel couldn’t breathe—he felt as if his rib cage was about to snap. He kicked wildly, hoping to land a blow on one or both of Kemnebi’s kneecaps, but it was no use. The man was holding Gabriel so high that his legs dangled in the air.

“Let him go!” Lucy shouted, throwing punches of her own at Kemnebi’s side. He kicked her aside, sending her sprawling.

The pain was excruciating. Gabriel imagined the top of his head bursting from the pressure. Looking around, he couldn’t see Lucy anymore. He hoped it meant she was taking advantage of the situation to get away, at least.

He wrenched from side to side, desperately trying to pull free. In his head, he was running through his dwindling options. He couldn’t get to his gun, not with his arms pinned to his sides. A head butt? It was likely to do more damage to Gabriel than to Kemnebi, whose forehead looked about as tender and vulnerable as a cinderblock. Gabriel opened his jaws wide and was about to bend forward, aiming for the cartilage of the man’s nose, when suddenly Kemnebi screamed and released him.

As Gabriel fell to the ground, he saw Kemnebi’s hands shoot up to his throat, which seemed to have something wrapped around it . . .

Lucy ran up to Gabriel, tossing aside the wicker basket she’d been carrying. It looked familiar—and now that Gabriel took a second glance, so did the thing around Kemnebi’s throat. One of the charmer’s snakes. Another seemed to have sunk its fangs into the back of his shirt, and more were writhing around his feet.

Lucy’s face was bloodless and her hands were shaking. Gabriel had never minded snakes himself, but he knew she hated them—absolutely hated them. He knew what it had meant for her to go get that basket.

“Thanks,” Gabriel said, climbing to his feet. “Now let’s get out of here.”

He took her by the arm and dragged her toward an alleyway he’d spotted earlier. It had looked promisingly dark and empty of people. Unfortunately, it also turned out to be a dead end. Gabriel glanced back. If they stayed here, it wouldn’t be long before the Alliance’s men would find them; on the other hand, returning to the center of the square wouldn’t exactly keep them hidden either.

He looked around. Near the mouth of the alley there was a truck parked half on and half off the curb, with a wooden animal trailer hitched behind it. Gabriel went to the rear of the trailer and peered through the slats.

Inside, animals were quietly bleating.

Goats. At least half a dozen of them.

The doors of the trailer weren’t locked. Gabriel turned the handle, opened the door, and held it open.

“After you,” he said.

“Ah, hell, Gabriel—” Lucy hesitantly put a foot up. The trailer floor was covered in filthy straw and the animals stank.

“If you could handle snakes,” Gabriel said, “you can handle goats.” He pushed her inside, climbed in behind her, and shut the door.

“Gabriel!”

“Shh.”

He pulled her deeper into the trailer and squatted against the back wall. The goats were agitated, milling about in the constricted space and bleating angrily at the intruders. But they’d calm down. He hoped.

The smell really was overpowering. He breathed through his mouth and gestured silently to Lucy that she should do the same.

She started to say something in response, but from outside came the sound of men running into the alleyway and past the truck. The men reached the dead end, swore, and came back. Through the slats in the trailer Gabriel saw Kemnebi pass—apparently he’d gotten the better of the snakes, which must have been milked after all.

Gabriel held a finger to his lips and Lucy nodded. They both knew what was at stake.

A shadow darkened as someone approached the trailer.

Gabriel slid down until he was lying on the foul straw. He pulled Lucy down on top of him, and with the toe of one boot he nudged the leg of the nearest goat. The animal bleated complainingly but walked in the direction Gabriel had prodded it, which put its body between the side of the trailer and where Gabriel and Lucy were lying.

They waited in silence, Lucy stretched out along the length of him, her face buried in his shoulder. He stroked the back of her head with one hand. With the other, he reached slowly for his gun.

But the shadow departed, and with it came the sound of heavy footsteps moving off. They probably hadn’t actually seen Gabriel and Lucy come down this particular alley; they must have had several more to search.

After a minute had passed without their hearing the men return, Gabriel helped Lucy sit up and then rose himself. “Let’s give it just a little longer,” he whispered to her, “then we can get—”

But at that instant someone started the truck’s engine.

They both put hands out against the trailer’s walls to brace themselves as the truck lurched into motion.

“Gabriel!”

“Shh.” Gabriel crept forward and looked out through the slats at the farthest end, but he couldn’t see who was driving the truck, or where they were headed.

The one thing he did know was that they were leaving the Djemaa el Fna.

He returned to where Lucy was half standing and gestured for her to sit again.

“But we’ve got to get out of here,” she whispered fiercely.

“That’s exactly what we’re doing,” Gabriel whispered back.