Where the Library Hides (Secrets of the Nile #2)

Capítulo Veintitrés

CAPíTULO VEINTITRéS

Carriages rumbled up and down the street, and donkeys laden with their burdens crowded the lane, while vendors selling juice and spices and bread called out their prices. The bustling noise surrounded me, and the urge to yell for help overwhelmed me.

“We wait here,” the man said.

I licked my dry lips. “What does Mr. Sterling want?”

“Quiet,” he said, removing his hand from around my shoulders. The gun stayed where it was, half-hidden. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the same card Mr. Sterling had given me and traced the lettering printed on the surface with his thumb. “He won’t be long now.”

He was older, and his manner was grim and jaded. Everything about him was dour: his clothing, the turned-down corners of his mouth, the vacant emptiness in his watery blue eyes.

I glanced around nervously, my hackles rising. Despite the morning sunlight, a chill skipped down my spine. A sleek brougham painted black approached. One could trust Mr. Sterling to choose the most formidable transportation available. The driver pulled to a stop in front of us, and through the window, I caught sight of the person I least wanted to see in all the world.

The door opened, and Mr. Sterling leaned forward, tipping his hat to me in mock salute. “Hello, Miss Olivera,” he said in his nasally voice. “Won’t you come in?”

I eyed him warily, conscious of the gun pressed into my side. Would he truly have his associate shoot me in the middle of the street?

“I really would,” Mr. Sterling said, as if I’d asked the question out loud. “I’ve reached a point of no return, I fear. Now, I’ll ask you one more time. Won’t you come in?”

“No, thank you; I’d rather stay where I am,” I said. “You’re here for a reason, I’m sure. Why don’t we have our discussion right now?”

“Mr. Graves, if you would?”

The man took a hold of my arm while jabbing me again with his pistol. “In you go, Inez.”

“No,” I said, squirming. Mr. Sterling was here for a reason—and he was bluffing. He had to be. He wouldn’t shoot me before he got what he wanted. And clearly there was something I had that he needed. I wouldn’t go easy.

I opened my mouth, inhaling, a scream gathering deep in my chest.

“Remember your husband,” Mr. Graves said. “If you don’t cooperate, he dies.”

My voice abandoned me, and my terror returned. Mr. Graves pointed to the open carriage with his chin, and I took a wobbly step forward, and then another.

I hesitated. Whit would not want me to go anywhere with Mr. Sterling of all people, not for his sake. I heard Whit’s roaring protest in my mind. I blinked when I heard that distinct shout again.

Actually, that was Whit roaring.

I half turned in the direction of the hotel to find him racing toward me, shouting my name. Mr. Graves let out a sharp curse. The stab of the gun at my side decreased in pressure. Mr. Graves shifted on his feet, turning.

No, no, no.

Instinctively, I spun around and climbed inside the carriage, dropping onto the bench opposite Mr. Sterling. Whit abruptly stopped in his tracks, sand spurting. His jaw dropped, and anguish stole over his face. My heart shattered. I knew what this would look like to him. Mr. Graves came in after me, the pistol in his hand aimed at Whit.

“I’ll cooperate,” I said. “Please, shut the door. Please.”

Mr. Sterling nodded, and Mr. Graves did as he was ordered. Mr. Sterling struck the roof of the carriage twice and the driver clicked his teeth. We lurched forward, gaining speed. I looked out the window, catching sight of Whit as we rolled past him.

“Inez,” he yelled, frantically trying to get to me. He skirted around the hotel guests gazing at the scene in unabashed astonishment. “ Don’t —”

“Lo siento,” I said. “Go back! Please!”

This, apparently, wasn’t a sufficient enough apology, because Whit ran after us, cursing at Mr. Sterling with every step.

“He’s a determined young man,” Mr. Sterling commented. “Your brute.”

“He’s not a brute,” I said sharply. “You’re the one with a brute .” I inclined my head in the direction of his employee.

“Mr. Graves comes everywhere with me,” Mr. Sterling said. “He even carries my guns.”

He smiled dourly in my direction, like a crack of lightning that heralded an approaching storm. Whit had seen Mr. Graves murder that young man in cold blood. I scooted as far from him as I could, clutching the handle of the door so hard my knuckles turned white.

The carriage picked up speed, and my stomach twisted in knots. I had only thought of keeping Whit from dying, but now unease flared as I fully realized my situation. “Where are we going?”

“To my office.”

“Why?” I asked. “Whit won’t stop looking for me. He’ll involve the authorities.”

“No one can touch me in Egypt, Inez. I thought you knew that. And as for your persistent husband, my men will pick him up at the next block.”

I leaned forward, anger blooming in my blood. “If you hurt him, I won’t cooperate. I’ll make your life miserable—I swear.”

Mr. Sterling looked at me passively. “What makes you think you can tell me what to do?”

“Because,” I said, “there’s obviously something you need from me. Why bother with kidnapping if that weren’t the case?”

His lips parted in surprise, then they stretched into a wide grin, his ridiculous mustache twitching. “I got tired of waiting for you to call.”

“I ripped your card in half,” I said, seething.

Mr. Sterling’s eyes flickered to the silent Mr. Graves. A wordless conversation passed between them and then Mr. Graves nodded. A sharp prickle of alarm stabbed the back of my neck. I moved to the door, managing to get it open, but rough hands grabbed me from behind, dragging me backward. I struggled, legs kicking, and I screamed as loud as I could.

Mr. Graves slapped a damp cloth against my mouth and nose.

Three breaths later, my vision dimmed.

And in the next, it went fully black.

I woke slowly, a headache pounded near my temples. Groaning, I sat up, rubbing my brow, swallowing hard. My vision spun as I stumbled to my feet. I was in an elegant room with dark paneled walls and expensive rugs layered on top of one another. A handsome wooden desk faced a leather sofa. I looked at the creased velvet pillow I had been lying on and shuddered, knowing someone had laid me down and covered me with a blanket.

The door opened, and Mr. Sterling strode in, carrying a tray with a steaming teapot and two empty cups. He set it down on the desk and said, “I’m glad you’re awake. I trust you had a nice rest?”

“A nice rest,” I repeated, shaking my head, feeling sluggish. “You had me drugged .”

“I couldn’t let you discover the location of my office,” he said, sounding almost apologetic. “And you look exhausted, if you’ll permit me to say so. I think the sleep did you good, even if it was forced.”

“I want to go back to the hotel,” I said firmly. “Take me there at once.”

Mr. Sterling carried the chair tucked under the desk closer to the sofa and then sat down. “I’ve made other plans, I’m afraid. Let’s have tea, and we’ll have our discussion. You did tell Mr. Graves you’d cooperate, if you recall.”

I opened and closed my mouth, confused by his almost solicitous manner. “Will you take me back to the hotel once we’re through?”

Mr. Sterling smiled and gestured to the couch. “Have a seat, Miss Olivera.”

“Obviously, you’ve doctored the tea,” I said stiffly as I positioned myself on a cushion. “I will not be drinking or eating anything you offer.”

“It has not been tampered with,” he said. “Watch carefully.”

He poured the tea, filling both cups to the brim. Then he lifted his own and took a long sip.

“I still won’t drink the damn tea,” I said.

“Well, now you’re just being stubborn,” he said. “But suit yourself.”

He took another sip of his tea, set down his cup, and then proceeded to drink from mine. After proving his point, he settled back against the chair and raised his eyebrows. “You’ve been up to your usual tricks, searching for clues, getting into scrapes. I have a hard time believing you haven’t made any headway in finding out where Lourdes might be.”

“I don’t—”

He held up a hand. “Before you lie to me, consider who you’re speaking with. I have a great many resources at my disposal, I’m well-connected, and I have the funds to employ however much manpower I need in order to get what I want. I only need to say the word, and your husband is dead. I’m in control, not you.” He dropped his hand and regarded me shrewdly. “Now, do you want to reevaluate your response and adjust accordingly?”

His unwavering stare unnerved me, while the panic I felt over Whit’s safety made me break out in a cold sweat. This man was a liar, a murderer. All my instincts were screaming at me to get out of this room and run for my life. But I couldn’t—not without ensuring Whit would be safe from Mr. Sterling’s plans.

“You’re very confident in my sleuthing,” I said. “Suppose I don’t know where my mother is.”

“Oh, but I think that you have some idea.”

“And if I were to share this idea, how do I know that you’ll leave Whit and me alone?”

“Because you don’t have any other options,” Mr. Sterling said. “You’ve reached the end of the road, Inez .”

I lifted my chin. “If you hurt Whit, I will never tell you what I know. If you kill me, then you’re back where you started. I think you need me more than you’re letting on, Mr. Sterling .”

His dark eyes gleamed with emotion—one I couldn’t interpret. He almost appeared to be entertained, as if enjoying a friendly competition.

“All right, Se?orita Olivera. What are your terms?”

“First, I’d like to remove myself, and my husband, entirely from this situation,” I said. “After today, I never want to see you again.”

“What else?”

“Second, I’d like all the artifacts my mother and Mr. Fincastle stole returned to the antiquities department. Hopefully, they will make these storied objects accessible for all, though I have a suspicion that won’t be the case. However, better the artifacts and Cleopatra herself are in the hands of the government than sold, piece by piece, to the highest bidder.”

Mr. Sterling opened his mouth to reply, but just then, he was overtaken by a fit of coughing. He pulled a handkerchief from his jacket pocket and wiped his lips. Before it disappeared, I caught sight of blood on the fabric.

“You’re ill,” I said.

“I’m ill,” he confirmed. His expression remained devoid of any emotion. “Is that all you want?”

“In exchange for the location of your enemy? Absolutely not,” I scoffed. “Third, my uncle has been charged with the theft of Cleopatra’s sarcophagus and all of the artifacts residing in her tomb on Philae. We both know my mother and her lover, Mr. Fincastle, were responsible. Once you find my mother, I want you to send her to Cairo where she will face judgment for her crimes so that my uncle and his business partner will go free and have their reputations restored.”

“But I don’t want Lourdes in prison,” Mr. Sterling said mildly. “I want her dead, and her annoying associate.”

“Then we don’t have a bargain,” I said firmly. “The authorities will need her alive for questioning, and I won’t share what I know if you can’t guarantee my mother will make it to Cairo alive.” I stood up, smoothing my skirt, and gave him a wintry gaze I hoped would freeze any protest he might make. “Now, take me back to the hotel.”

Mr. Sterling regarded me thoughtfully, and then he said, “Sit back down, please.”

The mildness of his tone alarmed me. It would have been better if he’d shouted; then I could have truly understood who I was dealing with. Still, I kept my chin raised, my shoulders straight, and shook my head. “I demand to be taken to my hotel.”

“You’ll want to hear what I have to say. I think you might be pleased with the counteroffer,” he said. “Now, will you sit?”

“No. I insist you take me back and—” I broke off, my curiosity flaring. “What is it?”

He nodded as I sank down onto the sofa. I eyed the empty teacup wistfully, wishing I hadn’t been quite so stubborn. I was thirsty, but I would be damned if I asked for something to drink now.

Mr. Sterling leaned forward and poured himself whiskey from a decanter on the coffee table, next to the pot of tea. “I will allow your mother to rot in prison, and I will force her to reveal where she has hidden Cleopatra and her cache. But Inez? I will keep it all.”

My lips thinned. “That is not—”

“Think it through. You and your husband will be kept safe; your uncle and his business partner will be freed and vindicated.”

I tried to protest, but he held up his hand.

“Furthermore, I will personally see to it that your aunt and her daughter, along with your cousin’s body, are safely returned to Argentina. Do not forget that you have made enemies here, Inez.”

My breath whooshed out of me, and the memory of Elvira dying flooded my mind. I had fought so hard not to remember her lying on the sand, her face destroyed by a single bullet.

“You tried to kidnap me,” I seethed, “but took the wrong girl instead.”

“Because Lourdes had marked her. She sacrificed your cousin, selfishly trying to save your life.” His voice dropped to a coaxing whisper. “Accept my terms, and everyone you care about will be saved.”

The weight of our conversation pressed against my chest. Everything hinged on what I said next. The terror of messing up overwhelmed me. More than anything, I wanted to be able to look over my shoulder and find Whit, my uncle, or Abdullah standing behind me, telling me what they’d do.

If they’d risk everything on Mr. Sterling’s word alone.

“Come now, Inez,” he said in that same coaxing whisper. “What’s it to be?”

WHIT

That woman was going to be the death of me.

I stared after my wife, hardly believing my eyes. She had willingly climbed into that bastard’s carriage. I ran after it, yelling her name until my lungs burned. Why would she align herself with Mr. Sterling? She wouldn’t . Doubt crept in, and I fought hard to beat it back. It took me a full minute to think it through logically, to make sense of her actions.

I knew Inez. She was resourceful, reckless, curious. My wife had conviction and cared deeply for the people in her life. Her family. And that was me.

I was her family.

The night we shared swam in my mind. How she had clung to me, afraid that I’d disappear. That the magic wouldn’t work, that I’d end up worse than before. She had gripped my hand through the worst of it, as if by her touch alone she’d save me from death.

Inez was scared. So she’d come up with a plan, a desperate one. One that clearly didn’t involve me, but tough shit. All I could do was show up if she needed me.

I only had to prepare for all eventualities.

Three knives, two pistols, and one rifle, the latter of which I tucked into my scabbard strapped to my back. There was the tiniest amount left of the magic-touched ink and I dribbled it onto my wound, howling silently at the wretched sting. I rolled up the sleeves of my shirt and then took one last look, searching for anything else I might need, before locking the room behind me. The lobby was nearly empty as I strode past the front desk, but as I reached the entrance, I stopped, arrested by a sudden thought.

I stood frozen, silently considering.

The consequences would be severe if I was wrong. As in, Ricardo and Abdullah could remain in prison for a very long time. But I thought of Inez and what she’d do. My wife was a risk-taker, but more than anything, she had faith in herself.

My gut was telling me to proceed.

I turned and flagged down one of the hotel attendants.

“I’d like to send a telegram,” I said.

“Certainly, sir,” he replied. “By when?”

“Now.”

He nodded and went to retrieve a card and pencil. He gave me both and said, “I’ll have someone go to the office as soon as you finish.”

I looked down at the blank sheet, took a breath, and began writing. The hotel clerk handed me an envelope, and I tucked the note inside and gave it back to him.

“Thank you,” I said.

Mr. Sterling’s men were waiting for me the moment I stepped outside of the hotel. Three of them—one with pale blue eyes, another who wore a checkered shirt, and the last with shoes that had been polished to a glossy sheen.

I held up both hands as I walked down the steps, taking each one slow. “Hello, gentlemen,” I said pleasantly.

They tensed, raising their arms, hands curled into fists.

It would be quite a show out here in the middle of the dusty street. Using my rifle was out of the question. Already, several onlookers gathered, while women hustled their children out of sight. Polished Shoes came at me first, throwing a punch that I easily sidestepped. I used his momentum against him, yanking him forward, and he stumbled, body bent at the waist, and I slammed my elbow into the middle of his back. He went down hard on his knees, and a swift kick to his ribs sent him toppling over, moaning.

“Who’s next?”

The last two rushed forward, fists swinging. I threw my leg around the shorter one’s neck, forcing us both to the ground. Checkered Shirt gasped, fighting for air, his neck in the crook of my bent leg. Pale Blue Eyes aimed a kick to my side, and pain shot through to my limbs. Grunting, I clenched my thigh muscle, and Checkered Shirt ceased struggling.

Pale Blue Eyes dragged me up by the lapel of my shirt, and I stumbled to my feet as he threw a punch below my rib cage. I gasped, eyes watering from the sharp ache. I inhaled, focused on my anger, and lurched forward, snarling as I grabbed the back of his neck and brought his face sharply down onto my raised knee. His nose broke, and he crashed to the ground, blood pouring from both nostrils. I used my elbow like I’d done to the other guy, but this time aiming for his upper back, and he dropped with a loud thud.

I straightened, breathing hard, and wiped the sweat off my face with the back of my hand.

One man down, groaning, clutching his ribs, and the last two unconscious. Not bad, considering I almost died recently. I glanced up the street, but the carriage was long gone. That didn’t matter.

I knew exactly where that bastard took her.