The Lost Tomb

by N. J. Croft

  “So why not go to the police afterward? It doesn’t look good, Noah.”

  “Because I need to find out what’s going on, and to do that, I can’t risk being in police custody.” He wasn’t even sure he trusted the police. It had taken them a hell of a long time to come after him the other night. Could they have been involved? Dodgy cops were nothing new. Maybe they’d been paid to stay out of that cemetery until someone could finish the job on him.

  “You think this is somehow related to Project Arachnid? Revenge?”

  “No. I’ve cross-referenced every job I worked on, pulled every name that could possibly have reason to come after me. And eliminated every one of them. I think it’s tied to Eve’s death.”

  Peter was silent for a moment. “You’re not just being paranoid?”

  “No. Someone tells me my ex-wife was murdered, and shortly after that, someone tries to kill me. I’ve got to presume the two things are somehow connected.”

  “I think you should come in and we’ll sort this out together.”

  “The email also said I was in danger and so were my family.”

  “Jesus, Noah. Do you have someone watching the children?”

  “The senator offered me the use of the company security. I have two people watching them at their grandparents—it’s easier to monitor than in the city.”

  “You’ve spoken to Michaela about this?”

  “A few days ago. That’s another thing—could you let her know what’s going on? I need to contact Tom and want him to be prepared.”

  “Of course. I think you’re right to trust her.” He was silent for a moment. “I know you feel like you’ve ruled it out, but have you considered that maybe Eve was killed to get you to resign, make you vulnerable?”

  Of course he’d considered it. He’d considered everything. “Why, though?”

  “Because you were damned good at your job. Project Arachnid was starting to make a real difference, and that was mainly because of you.”

  “I was just one of a team.”

  “Don’t start with the false modesty now. You have an uncanny ability to understand the reasoning behind the terrorist mind. To work out what they will do next and stop them. There were probably plenty of people who were very happy when you left the project.”

  “Or just one.”

  Peter sighed. “Are you still holding onto your theory that there’s someone at the center of it all?”

  “I’ve seen nothing to change my mind. If Eve was killed to get me out of Arachnid, then it worked. I’m out. Why come after me now?”

  “You’re still in the same line of work. You predicted the German attack.”

  Noah scowled. “Too late to do any good.”

  “All the same, the alerts went out. It’s not impossible that someone traced it back to you. So what do you plan to do?”

  “I’m going to look into Eve’s death, go back to where it happened, see if I can’t find out something new. But to do that, I need to be able to move freely. I need the police off my back. And I need to know the children are safe and that they know I’m okay.”

  Peter was silent for a while. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Thank you. Can you call me back on this number when you have some news?”

  After they hung up, he tossed the phone on the cabinet by the bed and sat back, staring at the wall opposite. It would take a while; he had to be patient—never one of his strong points. He couldn’t decide on his next move until he knew whether the police were actively looking for him. In the meantime, he needed a shower, and more food would be good.

  When he came out of the bathroom half an hour later, a towel wrapped around his hips, Star was sitting on the bed, typing into a laptop. She looked up as he came in, one eyebrow raised as her gaze drifted over him. Did she like what she saw?

  Noah had never had any problem getting women.

  He’d had a couple of short-term relationships since his divorce, but his job had made breaking them off easy. Undercover work and relationships did not mix. And that suited him fine. He had no intention of ever attempting a relationship again. Look how well the last one had turned out.

  But some women found danger a turn on. Was Star one of them?

  He’d be a liar if he told himself he wasn’t curious. She was different than any woman he had ever known. A combination of naivety and confidence. Plus, she’d saved his life. Obviously, she had an ulterior motive—she needed his help—but all the same that meant something. Tied them together.

  “You need some clothes,” was all she said.

  She was right. All he had were his running shorts and a blood-stained T-shirt.

  “I’ll go pick you some up from your apartment,” Star said. “You can’t go near the place yourself, the police will likely be watching it, but they won’t notice me. I’ve been thinking, you’re also going to need your passport. Plus I’m nearly broke, so if we’re going to follow Eve, then we’ll need money and a lot of it.” She looked at him. “I take it you have money?”

  “I have some cash in the safe at the apartment. And credit cards, though probably not a good idea to use them at the moment.” There was some other stuff she could pick up as well. Things from his old life that might come in useful. The reports of Eve’s accident were in the safe, too.

  Star was right. It was unlikely anyone would notice her entering the apartment building. And as he wasn’t a suspect, just wanted for questioning, there was a good chance they wouldn’t have searched the apartment yet. “I’ll make a list, give you the codes to get into the safe. But if you get there and it looks too risky, then you walk away. We’ll get the stuff some other way.”

  He thought about suggesting she change clothes. She had a pretty distinctive look and would stick out in anyone’s memory, but he suspected she didn’t have anything less conspicuous to wear, so he’d be wasting his energy. And likely pissing her off.

  She left half an hour later. Noah went back to bed, dropped the towel, and slid between the sheets. He still felt weak, and his shoulder was killing him. Star had left some painkillers on the cabinet by the bed, and he took a couple, swallowed them with a mouthful of water, then started going over options in his head.

  Peter called an hour later. “You’re clean,” he said. “I told them you were involved in a job for us. They’re no longer looking for you, but they still want to talk to you at some point. And I suggest you do that as soon as possible.”

  “Thanks, Peter. I don’t suppose you could get me a copy of the police report?” Maybe there would be some information on the identities of the men in the black SUV. They hadn’t been carrying any ID, but maybe there had been a fingerprint match or DNA.

  “I’ll see what I can do, but there’s only so many favors I can call in.”

  “Do what you can. And the kids?”

  “I spoke with Harper, told her you’d been called away suddenly. Luckily, they hadn’t seen the news report about you, but she did want to know if it was something dangerous. I told her you didn’t do the dangerous stuff anymore. Not sure she believed me—that girl has your suspicious nature. They’ll be okay, Noah.”

  “I owe you.”

  “You do. So what are your plans?”

  “I’m not sure yet. Still deciding.”

  “You know, if you want, I can send the team over for back up. There’s still a chance that this is somehow tied in with your work with Project Arachnid. It’s a justifiable response.”

  “Thanks, but I want to poke around and see what I can find, and the team can’t help with that. They’ll just alert whoever is after us.”

  “Us?”

  Shit. He didn’t want to mention Star just now. “I meant me and the children. The last email said we were all in danger.”

  “Well, let me know if you change your mind. And I talked to Michaela. She’s contactin
g your assistant—you’ll have any help you need.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Well, stay safe and keep in touch. And let me know what’s going on.”

  “Of course.” Though he wasn’t sure how true that was. He didn’t want to drag Peter into any danger, though his uncle could look after himself.

  “I’ll talk to you later.”

  He ended the call.

  Chapter Twelve

  Noah was looking up flights on the laptop when Star came back.

  She dropped the bag on the bed. “I thought you were in the army,” she said. “So what’s with the four passports? Are you some sort of super-secret special agent?”

  “I did some undercover work.”

  “And you kept them as souvenirs.”

  “Something like that.”

  He opened the bag. Looked like she’d found everything. Clothes, toiletries, the cash from the safe, credit cards—which he could use now the police were off his back—and the report on Eve’s accident. Plus bullets. For the gun he’d lost in the cemetery. Not that a gun would be much help if they were going out of the country. It would never get through airport security. And the passports and other paperwork to support his aliases.

  He took the bag into the bathroom and dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, boots. He felt almost human and ready to go.

  When he came out, Star was seated at the table, going through his notes. She glanced up, but he couldn’t tell what she was thinking. He’d never met a woman so hard to read. He took the seat opposite, pulled the laptop toward him, and checked his email. There was one from Peter, and he opened it. The message read: You owe me. Attached was the police report of the murders. That was fast work.

  He read through the report, but there was nothing new. There was no fingerprint match in the database for either of the two dead men, and the results were not in yet for the DNA. They’d both been killed by a single gunshot—probably with a silenced weapon—to the head at close quarters. Which suggested that there had been more than one shooter. They could hardly have expected the second victim to just sit in his seat and wait his turn. And there had been no sign of a struggle. That would tie in with what he remembered. There had definitely been more than one person after him that night.

  So he’d had at least four people following him—five if you counted Star—and he had no clue who any of them were or what they wanted. He had to assume that the two murdered men were working for someone. So while they had been eliminated, it didn’t mean the threat was gone.

  As he went to close the laptop, an email popped up. Professor Coffell. At last. He read it quickly. It was the information he’d asked for, a list of names of the team with Eve in Mongolia. The Russian, Yuri Vasiliev, and Tarkhan Ganbaatar were there, but also John Chen, a translator, and Zachary Painter, a journalist doing a piece on Eve’s search for the tomb.

  “Have you heard of a Zachary Painter or a John Chen?” he asked Star.

  She shook her head.

  He opened an email to Tom and asked him to dig up anything he could on the two men then sat back and rubbed a hand over his head.

  There was still no response from either the Russian or the Mongolian Eve had been working with. “Did you have any contact with the other members of the team?”

  “No. Everything went through Eve. I didn’t want contact with anyone else.”

  He blew out his breath. “I never realized archeology was so cloak and dagger. I thought it was digging around in the dirt looking for old bones. What the hell could be so important that someone would go to all this bother?”

  They certainly wouldn’t find out holed up in this place. And if he stayed in one place for too long, there was always the chance that whoever had already tried to kill him once would try again.

  “I think I should head to Russia. We know the last place she was seen alive from the police report. I can talk to the investigators. See if I can’t track down her last moves. Find out if she went anywhere that night after she called you and tried to call me.”

  “I’ve never been to Russia.”

  “I have.” A few years back. It had been freezing. He remembered that most about the country. Moscow in January was fucking cold.

  He studied her a moment. Three people were already dead that he knew of, and he was having bad feelings about the Russian and the Mongolian. No one just dropped out of sight these days. “Maybe you should stay in London.”

  “No way. I’m coming. This is my search just as much as yours. I can be useful.”

  He wasn’t sure whether she was right or not. But likely she was in as much danger if she stayed here as if she came with him.

  If anyone was looking for him, they’d be monitoring the airlines, which meant he and Star weren’t going under their own names. He was covered, but he needed to get another identity for her, and quickly.

  “You need a passport,” he said.

  “I have a passport.”

  “You need another passport.”

  He’d make a few calls to a few old contacts in the intelligence community. Someone would know where he could get a passport fast.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Irkutsk - Russia

  Noah paid the driver while Star dragged the bags out of the back of the taxi.

  In the end, they’d had to take a flight to Moscow and then change over to a second flight to Irkutsk, the city where Eve had spent the night before she died. Situated in Eastern Siberia, it was a city of approximately 600,000 people, not that far from the border to Mongolia. Which made sense if that was where Eve had come from and was heading back to.

  He took his bag and winced as pain shot through his shoulder then blanked the expression from his face as he caught Star watching him.

  She just shook her head, grabbed the bag from him, and slung it over her shoulder with her own. “Go.”

  He frowned but headed up the steps and into the hotel. According to the accident report, this was where Eve had stayed the night before she died.

  It was a small boutique hotel away from the city center in an old building—the sort of place she’d always loved, with plenty of character and an old-worldy feel.

  The receptionist looked up as they approached and gave them a professional smile. “Can I help you?”

  “I have a reservation, two rooms. Noah Jackson.”

  He completed the paperwork, and the receptionist handed him two key cards.

  “Could you tell me if you remember this woman?” He showed her a photograph of Eve. “She stayed here just over a month ago.”

  “Can I ask why?” Her English was perfect but with a strong accent.

  “She was my sister,” Noah said. That was the story they had come up with since they were booked into the hotel under their alias identities. “I was supposed to have come on the trip with her, but I couldn’t make it at the last moment. She died in a plane crash while leaving the city, and I’m just trying to get some…closure, I guess. A sense of what she was doing before she died.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss. I don’t remember your sister. Can you give me a name and I’ll check the dates?”

  “Eve Blakeley.”

  “Of course.” Her fingers flashed over the keyboard. “Yes, here she is. I was on leave those days. Sofia, who was on duty then, will be taking over for me in the morning. She may remember something.”

  “Thank you.” He thought for a moment. “Do you provide safety deposit boxes?”

  “No, but we allow guests to deposit valuables in the safe if they require.”

  “Can you tell me if Eve left anything in the safe when she stayed here?”

  The woman appeared unsure then frowned. “It’s against policy to share that information.”

  “Please. It’s important.”

  She finally gave a small nod. “I’ll check, but if there is anyth
ing, we’ll need the proper authority to release it.”

  “That’s fine. I’m sure we can get it.” He had no clue what the proper authority was in Russia, but they could worry about that if there was actually anything here.

  “Just a moment.”

  He waited, trying to curb his impatience as the woman worked at the computer keyboard. She came back a moment later. “There was nothing logged in.”

  Damn. “Thank you for checking.”

  Noah followed Star to the elevator, and they rode to the fourth floor. As they stopped outside a door, he handed her one of the key cards.

  “I’ll come and look at your shoulder,” she said.

  “You don’t need to.”

  “Yes, I do. The last thing I want is for you collapsing on us again.”

  He shrugged but moved to the next door along, slid the card in the lock, and stepped aside so she could enter the room. She dropped the bags on the floor and waved him to the bed. “Sit down.”

  “Are you always this bossy?”

  “I can be bossier. Sit down and take your shirt off.”

  He shrugged out of his jacket then pulled his T-shirt over his head and tossed it on a nearby chair. The bandage was clean, so the wound hadn’t reopened. As he sank down onto the bed, she stepped closer and unwound the bandage. His shoulder looked good, no redness or swelling.

  He stood up. “All right if I take a shower before you bandage me back up?”

  “Go ahead.”

  He stood under the hot water for long minutes. Afterward, he contemplated putting on some clothes, but he wasn’t going anywhere else tonight. And Star had no doubt seen him naked while she was looking after him. So he just wrapped one of the white towels around his hips. She was sitting on the bed, a glass of something in her hand—she must have found the mini-bar—her gaze wandering over him. He sat down beside her, took the drink from her hand, and swallowed the contents in one go. Vodka and tonic.

  “Hey!” She scowled but jumped to her feet and got the medical kit. After cleaning the area with an antiseptic wipe, she wrapped a clean bandage around his shoulder.