Gabriel's Horn (27 page)

“What was it created for?”

“I don’t know.”

“Does Roux?”

“Maybe. You’d have to ask him.”

“I have.” Annja grimaced. “He’s not exactly forthcoming.”

Garin smiled. “He never has been. His business has always been his business.”

“Do you know what the horn looks like?”

“I’ve never seen it,” Garin said.

They began searching.

Annja spotted a battered wooden box tucked under bolts of rotting purple-colored silk. Nervously, she reached for the box. It was almost two feet square and a foot deep. A leather carrying strap had been affixed to either end. She somehow felt drawn to it.

“What’s that?” Garin crossed over to her, feeling it, too.

“I don’t know.” Annja steeled herself and reached for the box. When she lifted it from the shelf, it was lighter than she expected. Cautiously, she slipped the simple latch and opened the box.

Inside, on what felt like a feather pillow, rested a horn. It was constructed of conical brass tubing bent into five complete circles. The tubing ran through its own center, as well, to provide handholds. There were no keys to change the pitch of the notes.

“This is it,” Annja said quietly.

“Doesn’t look like it’s worth much,” Garin observed.

Annja turned around and found Charlie standing there.

“Decided to join us, did you?” Garin asked.

“After you found the horn.” Charlie nodded. “I wondered if you’d be foolish enough to try to blow it.”

“It doesn’t look overly complicated,” Garin said.

Annja knew Garin was only taunting. She’d seen the respect—and maybe a little fear—in his eyes.

“You won’t be able to touch it,” Charlie said. “Only she can. She doesn’t harbor the darkness in her heart that you do.”

Garin cursed. Bah,” he snarled. “Now that we’ve got it, what do we do with it. Destroy it?”

Charlie smiled. “You can’t destroy that horn any more than you can Annja’s sword.”

“The English destroyed the sword,” Garin said. “I saw that happen.”

“The sword was destroyed, yet Annja carries it still.” The old man’s smile mocked Garin. “It would be the same with this horn.”

Annja put the horn back inside the box and closed the lid. She set the latch, then slung the leather strap over her shoulder. “Maybe we should think about getting out of here before anyone else finds us.”

She led the way.

* * * *

Someone slapped Roux back to wakefulness. The pain stung sharply enough to get his attention even through the fogged recesses of his mind. A big man squatted before him. He struggled to remember where he was, then finally remembered he’d been shot with a Taser. His chest muscles still ached from the painful contractions triggered by the voltage.

“So you’re still alive, are you, old man?” the big man taunted.

For a moment, because his vision hadn’t yet returned to normal, Roux believed the man in front of him was Garin. The big man backhanded him across the face again. This time Roux tasted blood while his cheek and temple felt as though they had been set aflame.

Roux struggled to stand, but discovered that his hands were cuffed behind him. He lacked the balance. Fearlessly, he locked eyes with the man. “I promise you that you will die for that,” he said.

The big man laughed, and his casual disregard only stoked the fires of Roux’s rage. “You’re in no position to be making threats, old man. And you’re not going to live long enough to have any hope of making good on any of them.”

Roux sat silent and proud. He and death were old friends. It did not scare him.

As he looked around, he discovered he was in the back of a large cargo truck. He tried to peer through the windows to figure out where he was.

He felt certain he was still in Istanbul. Surely he hadn’t been unconscious long enough to be taken out of the country. There were no drugs in his system that he could tell.

Someone opened the back of the truck. Twilight had settled over the city. He also believed he was still downtown. Farther down the street, pools of neon light fought the encroaching darkness.

Saladin stood at the back of the truck. He glanced at the big man. “Get him out of there.” He spoke in Arabic, either not knowing that Roux spoke the language, as well, or so convinced of his triumph that he didn’t care.

40

The big man yanked Roux from the seat bolted to the truck wall and tossed him out. Roux tried to keep his feet under him, but it was impossible given the fact that his hands were bound behind him. His forward momentum was too great for him to handle.

Off balance, he smacked into the rough ground hard enough to knock the wind from his lungs. He was only able to keep his face from getting smashed by turning it to the side. A cut opened up over his right eye and oozed blood that blurred his vision.

Roux didn’t try to get up. Instead, he looked around to get his bearings. The city was behind him. The Golden Horn stretched before him. The harbor and bay were filled with ships and freights. No one was close enough to see what was happening. Or perhaps no one cared. Istanbul was a dangerous city.

“Get him up,” Saladin ordered.

The thug grabbed Roux roughly and yanked him to his feet. Stubborn and defiant to the last, Roux stomped the man’s instep hard. When the man howled in pain and bent down toward his foot, Roux head-butted him in the face and broke his nose with an audible crack.

Dazed, the man rocked back and collapsed onto his backside. His nose drained blood. Before anyone could move, Roux kicked the man in the mouth and broke several of his teeth. This time he fell back totally unconscious.

Saladin drew a pistol and pointed it squarely between Roux’s eyes. “Keep it up and you’ll die now.”

Roux was tempted to push the fates. That was the way he’d done things when he was a young man. But that had been so long ago, and so much had changed.

Breathing raggedly, he stood straight and stared down the pistol barrel. He tested the cuffs binding his wrists but there was no give.

“Who knows?” Saladin asked. “If this goes right, maybe you’ll even get to live.”

Roux didn’t respond.

“Annja Creed is here in Istanbul,” Saladin said.

That surprised Roux.

“So is your friend Garin,” Saladin continued.

He ran straight to her, Roux thought.

“I believe she’s figured out how to decipher the Nephilim painting,” Saladin said. “Salome believes so, too.”

Roux grinned. “You’ve been following Salome.”

Saladin smiled back. “Of course. In fact, I’ve got someone within her ranks. After all, we’re all players in this little game. At the moment, Annja seems intent on following up an abandoned tunnel orphaned from the Church of the Holy Apostles. Do you know why?”

“No.” Roux’s mind raced. Had Annja truly found the horn? Despite his predicament, excitement flowed through Roux’s veins.

“Salome has managed to follow her,” Saladin said. “She and those killers she employs are waiting outside the building they entered.”

Fear for Annja replaced some of the excitement, but not all of it.

Saladin held out a cell phone. “I want you to call them.”

“Why? So you can ransom me?” Roux shook his head.

“If you don’t tell them,” Saladin said, “they’re going to walk into Salome’s trap. I can assure you she won’t show them any mercy.” His dark eyes focused on Roux. “I give you my word, on the names of my ancestors, that Annja Creed will not die by my hand.”

Roux knew that Saladin would honor his word. But he had no doubts that the man would also kill him as soon as it benefited him to do so.

“What do you want to do?” Saladin demanded.

Roux took a deep breath. There was no choice.

* * * *

Garin’s phone vibrated in his pocket as he and Annja replaced the trapdoor that led to the first tunnel.

The number was unknown to him. But the caller ID indicated it was Roux.

Garin frowned.

“What’s wrong?” Annja asked.

“I’ve got a call from Roux.”

“Answer it.”

“The caller ID shows Roux’s name,” Garin said. “He wouldn’t have a phone number in his name.”

“What do you think it means?” Annja asked.

“It can’t be anything good,” Garin assured her.

“Answer it,” Annja said.

The phone stopped ringing and the number faded.

“Too late,” Garin said softly.

* * * *

The answering service picked up the call.

Roux smiled and pulled his head back from the phone. “Evidently he’s busy.”

“I’ll call again.” Saladin punched the redial key.

Idly, Roux glanced at the water in the harbor. It was only twenty feet away. He might be able to get there before Saladin’s men gunned him down. He was quick. And he’d rather drown than be killed by his enemies.

The phone rang but this time Garin answered. “Hello.”

Saladin pushed the phone toward Roux’s face.

Roux spoke calmly and quickly. “You’re surrounded in that building. Salome has people all around it.”

“Where are you?”

“Saladin has me. He intends to trade me for whatever object you recovered.”

Saladin grinned in anticipation.

“Personally,” Roux said, continuing on in Latin, “I don’t trust him. Get Annja and yourself out of there. Run and don’t look—”

“Old fool!” Saladin snarled. He struck Roux in the face with his gun barrel and drove him to his knees.

Roux got his feet under him and tried to rush Saladin, but a man tripped him and another put his foot in the middle of Roux’s back to pin him to the ground. Roux struggled, but he couldn’t get up.

“Are you there?” Saladin demanded.

“I am.” Garin’s voice sounded cold and efficient. “Don’t hurt him.”

“I am sorely tempted. He is a most vexing man.”

“I know, but you’re not going to get what you want if he’s killed.”

Saladin let out a breath. “Do you have the treasure that the painting led you to?”

“Yes.”

“You could be lying to me.”

“I’m going to have to trust you not to put a bullet through Roux’s head. You’re going to have to trust me regarding the artifact.”

“Very well.”

“Is what Roux said about Salome true?”

“Yes.”

“Are you coming here?”

“No. You will meet me at the harbor.” Saladin gave directions.

“Getting out of here will be difficult,” Garin said.

“I will be praying for your safety.”

Garin’s voice dripped sarcasm. “Great. And I’ll tell you something else, Saladin. If you harm that old man, I will track you down if it’s the last thing I do. You’ll die a slow, horrible death.”

Saladin grinned. “I look forward to meeting you. I’m told your ancestor killed my ancestor.”

“It runs in the family,” Garin agreed. “You keep that in mind. I’ll see you as soon as I can.”

The phone clicked dead.

Amused, Saladin put the phone in his pocket and gazed down at Roux. “Your son seems quite full of himself.”

“You might be better off killing me,” Roux said. The side of his face had swollen badly. “No matter how this turns out, Garin is going to kill you.”

“He won’t live long enough to do that,” Saladin promised. “And I’m not going to kill you until I get the treasure. In case your son decides to get cute while we’re trading and wants to verify that you’re still alive.”

Garin would, Roux knew. And if he was dead, then maybe Garin and Annja would live. Calmly, Roux started voicing a litany of insults about Saladin, his parentage and everything else he could think of.

* * * *

As he stood in the fourth-floor office of the building and surveyed the team waiting out in the street, Garin felt scared. It was the first time the emotion had touched him so hard in years.

“Are you going to be all right?” Annja asked. She stood at his side.

“We’re trapped,” Garin said.

“We can get out of the building unnoticed,” Annja said. “There’s another trapdoor in the next building.”

They’d found it while searching for the hidden chamber. They’d also spotted another security team around the building and figured they belonged to Salome. Garin and Annja had caught sight of them at roughly the same time. Neither of them had taken their departure for granted.

“If we escape Salome, we’re only going to meet Saladin’s people and they’ll kill us.” Garin paused, then made himself voice the alternative because they both needed it said. “Or we escape and let Saladin kill Roux.”

Annja frowned.

“Escape isn’t an answer. Not if we’re going to save Roux. And I’m not going to leave him in their hands,” Garin stated.

“Neither am I. What about the men you have at the airport?”

“If they come in the helicopters, they’re going to be seen. If they try to drive, it’ll take too long.” Garin nodded. “There’s an army waiting out there. We just need to mobilize it.” He grinned. “Do you feel lucky?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“No.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“I’m going to go after Roux. You wait till you get my signal, then let Salome’s people see you escaping from the building. The harbor is half a mile to the west. If you run fast and use the terrain, you can get there in a few minutes. Salome and her people will follow. If we get a break, Saladin and his warriors will come this way hoping to get their hands on the horn. If we get really lucky, they’ll fight each other and we can escape in the confusion.”

“How fast can you run?” Annja asked.

Garin looked at her. “I’m not going to—”

“Yes, you are. I’m smaller than you are. I should be able to get in closer. And if they see me, there’s a chance they won’t know who I am. For a while, anyway. You’re too distinctive.”

Garin started to argue.

“Garin,” Annja said softly, “you know what I’m saying is true.”

Garin cursed. He did know that.

“However you want to do this,” Annja said, not challenging him, “we’ll do it that way.”

She knew not to try to argue with him. By leaving the decision totally in his hands, he had to take everything into consideration. He was a master strategist.

“All right,” he said. “Just find Roux and take care of him. I don’t want—”