The Sanctuary

Chapter 33

The campus was barely stirring to life as Ramez moved cautiously down the quiet, tree-shaded lane that led to Post Hall.

He’d hardly slept. He’d watched his clock tick the interminable hours away, minute by minute, and by the time the sun had finally deigned to make its appearance, he couldn’t take the confinement anymore. Hesitantly, he’d emerged from his apartment and made his way to the university, looking over his shoulder, scanning the street as he hurried along, alert to anything that looked even remotely out of the ordinary.

The building itself was deserted this early in the morning. The most conscientious of the staff didn’t come in before seven thirty, which wasn’t for another half hour. He paced around his office, looking out onto cypress trees outside, stealing anxious glances at the cell phone on his desk, tormented by indecision — and by fear.

As he heard the first of his colleagues trickling into the department, he decided to put an end to the ulcerous pain that was knotting up his chest and grabbed his phone.

The ferret watched intently as the taller detective spoke on the phone. Reading between the lines, he realized what was going on. His suspicions were soon confirmed once his partner hung up. The man who’d called worked with the kidnapped American professor at the university. He’d been contacted by the Iraqi antiques smuggler they were looking for, who wanted to make a deal before coming in. He was scared.

The taller detective had told him to stay put; he and his partner would be there shortly.

He told the ferret to get ready to head out to the university with him and picked up his cell phone to make a call. He wasn’t exactly bolting out the door at the news. That was good.

The ferret guessed he’d be calling the American agent to give him the news. He had to move fast. They weren’t paying him to stand idle.

He had to let them know. Then he had to delay things at the station long enough for them to get there first.

He told his partner he needed to take a quick leak, then left the room. He found a quiet corner in an interview room, made sure he wouldn’t be overheard, and speed-dialed Omar’s number.

The brief cell-phone ring echoed through the apartment and roused Mia from an almost comatose sleep. She sat up and rubbed her eyes, feeling groggy. She wasn’t sure what time it was. The room was completely dark, the outside world ruthlessly blotted out by roller shutters. She noticed some sunlight creeping in from under the bedroom door and realized it was morning.

She was surprised at how deeply she’d been gone, given the circumstances. She ran her hands through her hair, pulled on her pants, and stumbled out of the bedroom to find Corben in the kitchen. He was already dressed and was talking into the phone while stuffing some files — including the one he’d taken from Evelyn’s apartment — into his briefcase.

His body language, focused and urgent, sent a spasm of dread down Mia’s spine.

He saw her and tilted the phone upwards, away from his mouth. In a low but firm voice, he said, “We’ve got to go.” His steely expression filled in the rest. They had to go now. Her questions would have to wait.

She’d hardly managed to get her shoes on before they were heading down in the elevator to the underground garage. Corben filled her in as they hurried into his Cherokee, and within minutes they were rushing towards the university.

“They’re sending a couple of men over,” Corben concluded, “but I’d rather have Ramez in our custody than in theirs when that call comes in.”

He checked his watch. Mia checked hers. “So this Farouk’s supposed to call him at noon?”

Corben nodded. “We’ve got about four hours.”

Mia’s mind was racing ahead questioningly, a surge of adrenaline flooding her senses. “So why wasn’t he picking up his phone last night when you tried calling him? What if it had been Farouk? What if he’s changed his mind, or something’s happened to him?”

Corben shrugged. “I guess we’ll know in four hours’ time.”

“He should’ve picked up his phone,” she insisted.

Corben turned to her. “This is good. At least he’s made contact.”

Mia took in a deep breath and settled back in her seat, trying to subdue the methodical, analytic scientist inside her, but there were too many unknowns, too many possible variants, for her to switch off. “What if Farouk’s watching him? You don’t want to scare him off.”

“If he’s watching, he’ll see you,” Corben reassured her. “And that should give him some comfort, maybe even encourage him to come out.”

Mia nodded to herself and turned away, looking ahead as the street tore past. She didn’t like the silence. It allowed her to take stock of what she was actually doing, and with that came apprehension. She thought again of her mom, of what she must be feeling. She tried to calm herself by thinking forward and imagining a best-case, uneventful scenario — they pick up Ramez, Farouk calls, he’s brought in, and either they act on his information to track down the hakeem and free Evelyn, or they get the smuggled pieces and trade them for her freedom, and everyone lives happily ever after. But her mind refused to cooperate, insisting instead on fleshing out outcomes that were far less rosy and, despite her best efforts to block them, involved a lot of suffering and a disturbing number of deaths.

Corben made a right turn at the bottom of Rue Abdel Aziz onto the tail end of Bliss and turned into the circular driveway of the main entrance to the university. The Medical Gate, as it was known, was shrouded in darkness at all times of day by the sweeping canopy of a gargantuan, ancient banyan tree. He pulled right up to the cast-iron gate. Vehicular access to the campus was tightly controlled due to the local penchant for car bombs, but Corben’s Jeep had the diplomatic 104 plates that indicated it was affiliated to the U.S. embassy and enjoyed special privileges. Sure enough, the guard manning the gatehouse spotted the plates and, after a cursory glance inside the car, waved them in.

They pulled into a parking spot under a row of stately cypress trees up the road from Post Hall. Mia felt her nerves tingling as she followed Corben out of the car. She noticed him look around as if to make sure no one was watching before he opened the SUV’s tailgate. The trunk was bare, aside for a latch in its carpeted floor, which Corben unlocked. He gave the surroundings another quick once-over before opening the concealed lid. Neatly strapped into place and tucked away inside the compartment was a small armory: shotgun, submachine gun, a couple of automatics, and several boxes of rounds. The tingle grew more pronounced as Corben pulled out one of the handguns, rammed a full magazine in, and tucked it into his belt underneath his jacket.

He slammed the lid shut and seemed to spot the apprehension in her expression. “Just in case,” he reassured her.

“Good idea,” she muttered, unsure whether to feel relieved that he was armed this time.

They walked past a couple of students who were hanging out before class and entered the old stone building. There was no receptionist in the lobby — the Archaeology Department was small, with no more than a dozen or so full-time staff. Mia knew that Evelyn’s office was on the upper floor and led Corben past the empty lecture hall and the entrance to the campus museum and up the stairs.

They checked the rooms as they walked down the corridor until they came to Ramez’s office. His door was open. The assistant professor’s face lit up with alarm when he spotted them, then his expression turned to confusion as he seemed to recognize Mia.

“I’m Evelyn’s daughter.” She smiled, trying to put him at ease. “We met here before, remember? In her office?”

“Of course.” His eyes were still fearful as they darted from her to Corben and back. He wanted to mouth some more words, but Corben didn’t give him that chance and took over.

“I’m with the American embassy,” Corben informed him flatly. “We’re trying to find Evelyn, and we’re hoping you can help us. The Fuhud detectives you called up told me about the man who came to see you yesterday, Farouk. We really need to talk to him to see if he can help us secure her release.”

“He’s going to call me at noon.” Ramez’s voice quivered uncomfortably.

Corben pointed at the cell phone on the desk. “That one?”

Ramez nodded. “They said they were coming here. They said they’d tell me what to say.”

“I’d prefer it if you came with us to the embassy,” Corben said. “You’ll be safer there. Just until we bring Farouk in.”

Ramez’s eyes widened at the mention, and he took an instinctive step backwards. “Safer?”

“Just a precaution,” Corben assured him. “We don’t know how well connected these guys are, but they seem to know what they’re doing. They’re also looking for Farouk. I can’t guarantee your safety anywhere else.” He paused, clearly letting the warning sink in.

From the grim expression on Ramez’s face, it seemed to have sunk him with it.

“We should go,” Corben told him soberly as he stepped to the desk and picked up the phone. He handed it to Ramez, who took it, looked at it for a moment, and slipped it into the front pocket of his jeans. “I’ll let the detectives know you’re with us.” He saw some lingering anxiety in the assistant professor’s eyes. “You’ll be fine. Let’s go.”

Ramez glanced at Mia. She gave him a small nod and a supportive half-smile. He shrugged and nodded back with grim acceptance.

Corben led the way as they exited the building and walked back to the car. He scanned the quiet surroundings — the university’s campus was an oasis of tranquillity even during the worst of times — as he ushered Ramez into the backseat. Moments later, the big gates parted again and the big gray Cherokee rejoined the noisy streets of Beirut.

Corben waited for a couple of cars to pass before cutting across Rue Bliss in the opposite direction and heading up the big, open intersection that fronted the university’s entrance. He glanced in the mirror at Ramez and reached for his cell phone to call the Fuhud detectives. The assistant professor was staring nervously ahead, his face riven with unease — and just then, something else rushed into the mirror, a dark shadow accompanied by a strained engine growl and an earsplitting screech of tires, and a split second later, something rammed the Cherokee full force from behind.