The Oracle Code

31

After dinner, her head still swirling from all the information Lourds had dangled — while still not managing to answer what it was Boris Glukov had been killed for — Anna returned to her room to work on her story. Tonight, she worked on the true story, the one about the scrolls and her role in absconding with them.

She’d promised Lourds that she wouldn’t send it in without his approval — of the release, not the words. The only reason she had agreed to that was because she wanted the whole story, not half of one.

The frustrating thing was that the half of a story she had was really exciting. It was also daunting to write. Nearly all of it was autobiographical, with her firmly in the main viewpoint. She wasn’t comfortable doing that, and most news stories weren’t written in such a fashion.

But this one necessitated it.

The honesty she was forced to employ to get the story told was draining. It was much easier to tell a story outside herself, to simply group the facts into a fashion that made reading and understanding easy for a reader.

Taking the reader along as a co-adventurer was much more difficult. She didn’t like the proximity between her and the story. In many ways, she was the story. Her pages told of her personal changes during the course of Boris Glukov’s murder and the fear she’d had as she and Lourds had escaped the killer at the dig site. The words kept the memories far too sharp to suit her. She could just read a paragraph and be right back there.

She’d made notes about Lourds’s elaboration on the scrolls but knew she’d have to do more research to fully understand what he’d been talking about. And then she was probably going to relay everything pretty much the way he had.

Unless her editor cut her word count.

That would be a pain. Just the thought was enough to depress her and take some of the joy from her writing.

She stared at the blinking cursor on the screen.

Don’t think about that. Focus on the story right now. Focus on staying alive. That should keep you interested.

She opened up her mail client and discovered she had e-mail from her editor.

Anna—

How is it going? I have not heard anything from you. You are not answering your phone.

It is hard to keep you updated when I’m running for my life, Kirill. Anna didn’t reply with that, but she wanted to. Checking her phone, she noticed she had missed seven of his calls. She had been purposely avoiding him because she was bursting to tell the real story.

When are you returning to Moscow? I am growing anxious, and the newspaper can’t afford to keep you over there for an extended period.

Right now, I’m not costing you anything. When you’re running from a killer, you learn to live cheaply. She was also thankful she had fallen in with Lourds and the ANA. If she’d had to put herself up at the moment, things would have been far too expensive.

Let me know when you can. I’m looking forward to more of your story. We have several interested readers who are writing in to make sure you are all right.

If there is anything you need, please let me know.

Kirill

Anna took pride in the mention of the readers. She was hooking people with her story. Of course, that was easy to do. CNN was still running footage of the attack, and Thomas Lourds was a public figure who had gone missing.

With her.

She smiled at that, but she didn’t forget that somewhere out there, a killer was searching for them, just waiting for her and Lourds to make a mistake.

Inside the small apartment in a building built at the foothills of the mountains on the western side of the Old City, Linko stared at the computer screen on the small table. The FSB intelligence division had bugged Kirill Filatova’s computers at home and at the office. He was Anna Cherkshan’s editor.

Linko had not told the intelligence division why he had needed the computers hacked. He did not have to. They were employed to do the things people like him demanded they do.

Thirty minutes passed, and Anna Cherkshan made no reply.

Linko didn’t know if the woman was somewhere without access to the Internet, or if the most recent attack had driven her underground. So far, he still had not tried to intercept the young woman’s phone because he was afraid General Cherkshan would discover that.

Growing irritated at watching the unchanging screen, Linko rose from the hard chair. One of the other agents he had at his disposal quietly took his place.

The apartment was small and felt claustrophobic. It was rundown and old, not a place he wanted to be for any length of time. A sliding door opened onto a small balcony that was really nothing more than the eaves of the roof of the apartment below.

Cold air hugged the mountain, buffeting him as he stood there. He was hungry and cold and tired. He wished he could rest. He wished he could just find the professor and the woman so he could kill them and take the scrolls back to President Nevsky.

And he wished the woman wouldn’t have to die too quickly. After everything he had gone through to try to accomplish his mission, he wanted something for himself.

“What are you going to do?”

Lourds looked at Layla as she stood at the door to his borrowed room. “I’m going to miss you.”

She smiled but looked uncomfortable. “I wish it did not have to be this way.”

“Me too.”

“At least we had earlier.”

“Yes, we did.” Lourds grinned at the memory, but that seemed only to sweeten the ache he had to be with her again.

She looked at him with concern. “You’re going back to work on those scrolls, aren’t you?”

“As long as I’m able. They’re the key to everything that’s going on. The answers have got to be there.”

For a moment, she was silent. “Not always, Thomas. Sometimes things are just what they are for no reason at all.”

Lourds frowned at her. “It’s not like you to be pessimistic.”

She shook her head. “I am sorry. I am just tired. This position takes a lot out of me.” She gave him a half-smile. “I long for the days when I had to keep foreign archeologists in line, from getting too drunk and getting into trouble in a local city, from getting into shouting matches and potential fistfights over various schools of thought regarding events that happened hundreds or thousands of years ago, and from taking chances wandering around in the middle of the night when they should be sleeping.”

“Yeah.” Clearing his throat, Lourds couldn’t help being reminded of Boris. “I miss all that too.” He paused and looked at her. “Maybe you need to take a break. Just for a few days.”

“No, I cannot. If I take time off, it only means that things are not getting done.”

“You can’t take on everything by yourself.”

“I am not. There are a lot of people helping me, but the need in my country is strong. There are many women who need protection, who need a way out of bad situations, and who need training and job opportunities. If I step away, I make the burden on each one of those people even harder.”

Lourds didn’t know what to say. He could only care for her, not tell her what to do, and not make her job any easier. In fact, being here, looking after him, was already taking her away from her duties.

“I understand.”

“How long are you going to be here?”

The question caught Lourds by surprise. “What do you mean?”

“Working on the scrolls?”

“I don’t know. Can I stay here? Will that be a problem?”

“I am sure something can be arranged. Whatever you are after, it will ultimately end up in Afghanistan hands because it is from this place.”

“Not necessarily.” Lourds wanted to be clear about that, and he felt defensive all of a sudden. “If what I’m really after is Alexander the Great’s tomb, then it depends on where it’s located.”

Layla nodded. “But the scrolls you are using to locate it are property of the country of Afghanistan. They were found here.”

“Agreed. I just need to hang on to them a little while longer.”

“Of course. But when you are finished with them, they need to be turned over to the proper authorities here so they can be placed with a museum.”

“I’ll be happy to.”

She frowned. “I’m afraid I have some more bad news, my love.”

“What?”

“I have got to get back to my job tomorrow. I hate to leave you here, but I have so much to do.”

Her announcement triggered a spark of anger and loss within Lourds. He didn’t want to be alone with his discovery. Something like this was meant to be shared.

But he nodded. “I understand. I’ll be fine. If I need to leave this place—”

“No. I will not hear of it. I want you to be safe. Stay as long as you like. I will make certain your needs and those of Miss Cherkshan will be met.”

“Thank you.”

“I am also going to ask Captain Fitrat to watch over you himself.”

“He’s your bodyguard.”

“He’s one of several bodyguards, but he is the most knowledgeable, the most traveled.” She smiled. “And he knows how to cook.”

“Layla—”

Reaching up, she put two fingers over his mouth. “Do not protest. You will only provoke me.”

Lourds nodded, relishing the mere touch of her skin against his.

“I am going to have enough trouble convincing Captain Fitrat that this will be his new assignment for the time being.” She glanced over her shoulder, then stood on tiptoe and kissed him quickly, passionately. She stroked his cheek with her hand. “I am sorry that Valentine’s Day was not everything you wished it would be.”

Lourds thought of the ring and of proposing, but this wasn’t how he wanted to do it. Layla deserved more than a proposal delivered at the end of a very long day filled with all kinds of emotional complexities.

“Next year, we’ll have to spend it in the United States. It would be much different.”

For just an instant, sadness showed in her eyes. Then she said good night and walked away.

Lourds watched her until she disappeared. With a sigh, he returned to the scrolls on his borrowed desk.