Library of Gold

by Alex Archer

  He came crashing through the door just as she’d expected, the noise he made echoing through the stairwell. It also covered up the sound of Gianni’s footsteps, forcing the gunman to stand still for a moment and let the noise he made fade before he could decide whether his quarry had gone up or down. Annja used those precious few seconds to plan out her next move, getting ready for what was to come. She was only going to get one chance… .

  The minute she could hear Gianni’s footsteps again, she went into action, rushing to the landing. There she planted one hand against the railing and vaulted over it, dropping toward the gunman’s unprotected back as he headed down in pursuit of Gianni.

  Her feet struck him between the shoulder blades, driving him downward so that for a second she was balanced on his back, riding him like a surfer rides a wave, and then she jumped clear, not wanting to become tangled up with him as he fell. She landed lightly, the additional dexterity the sword seemed to impart on her helping her keep her balance. She was ready to face her opponent should he regain his feet quicker than she expected.

  Except this time their pursuer wasn’t going to get back up. He slammed into the next landing at an odd angle and Annja could clearly hear the crack as his neck broke, leaving his head at an impossible angle, staring up at her with sightless eyes.

  She swore beneath her breath.

  She hadn’t intended to kill him, it being awfully difficult to question a corpse, but there was nothing to be done about it now. Conscious that the others might have realized their mistake and already be looking for them, Annja didn’t waste any time with regrets. She knelt beside the body and quickly searched it for some kind of credentials or identification, something to let her know who was after them. But she came up empty.

  Shaking her head in disgust at how quickly things had gone totally to hell, she headed down the stairs after Gianni.

  Chapter 14

  She found him waiting for her in front of the door that led to the first floor and visible relief washed across him as she came into view. He moved to open the door but she shook her head, pointing past him to the rest of the stairwell that led to the lower floors, no doubt the haven of the service personnel who, on any given day, catered to the needs of the hotel’s nine hundred guests.

  Their pursuers would be waiting for them in the lobby. Or at least that’s what she would have done if she were them. Leave one or two of their number to watch the lobby, make sure those they were pursuing didn’t emerge from a different elevator or stairwell, while the rest of the team began to canvas other floors.

  Doing something unexpected, like bypassing the quick route to the street in favor of heading deeper into the hotel, might throw off the pursuit and give them extra time to get away unobserved.

  Or so she hoped.

  The stairs ended one floor below and when they stepped out of the stairwell they found themselves in a wide corridor in the heart of the hotel’s service area. Several men in blue coveralls were pushing carts of dirty linens in one direction while the next shift of maids were busy stocking their carts from an open supply closet. Annja and Gianni slipped out into the flow of traffic, following the men with the laundry carts, hoping to find an exit.

  Near the end of the hall was a set of double doors on the right, both of which were propped open, letting the occasional wave of steam out. Annja caught the heavy scent of detergent and bleach and steered Gianni in that direction, assuming that there would have to be some decent ventilation in the room to keep the workers from becoming overcome by the chemicals. The easiest way to do that was to have a door to the outside.

  They were just about to go in when a man shouted from behind them. “Stop!”

  The voice was full of command authority and everyone, Annja and Gianni included, responded to it, instinctively turning in that direction.

  It was the leader of the gunmen, Annja saw immediately. He stood in the middle of the hallway, having just come out of the elevator at the far end. That narrow face and goatee stood out. As did his charcoal-gray suit. And the gun in his hand.

  The gun he was pointing at them.

  “Run!” Annja yelled.

  Screaming erupted as several of the hotel staff realized there was a man with a gun in their midst and they were between him and his target. Chaos ensued. Staff scattered in every direction, carts and laundry went flying as people fought to find cover. Gianni shot into the laundry room, Annja on his heels.

  Massive industrial washing machines lined one side of the room, dryers the other. Employees were standing, wondering what all the commotion was about and staring curiously at the civilians in their midst.

  “Vykhod?” Annja asked, hoping she was getting the pronunciation right, thankful for the dozen or so words in Russian she’d memorized on the flight over.

  Several of the workers turned and pointed to the far end of the room, where an open door was half-hidden behind several wrapped bundles of laundry.

  “Spasibo!” Annja yelled over her shoulder as they ran for the exit.

  She and Gianni burst out the door to find themselves in a dimly lit alley at the back of the hotel. Annja didn’t hesitate, just grabbed Gianni by the hand and took off down the alley at a dead run, their footsteps echoing off the walls around them as she dragged him along in her wake. She was praying that they’d reach the other end before their pursuers caught up with them, knowing that they’d be gunned down like ducks in a shooting gallery if they didn’t.

  The alley opened up onto a side street that was just as dark and just as empty. Annja didn’t stop there, either; she raced down that one until it bisected a slightly more trafficked area. Cars were parked up and down the road—Ladas, Charkas and even a few Volvos and Mercedes—but there were no people. With her hand still clamped over Gianni’s, she led them across the street and then ducked down behind the nearest automobile.

  Gianni was about to say something but she quickly stopped him with her hand over his mouth.

  “Shh! Listen.”

  Behind them she could hear shouting and the sharp sound of footfalls against the pavement.

  They weren’t out of this yet.

  Annja glanced down the street. Traffic was moving on the next street, but it was a long way off. It would take them several minutes to get there and even then there was no guarantee they would find cover. The buildings lining the street were either apartment buildings with thick iron gates, no doubt locked tight at this hour, or commercial properties with their doors hidden behind steel shutters and thick chains.

  Clearly the cars lining the street were their best bet.

  Annja began to creep along beside the cars in a low squat, being sure to keep her head below window level and therefore out of sight of anyone coming down the street they’d just left behind.

  Gianni crept along behind her, casting nervous glances back over his shoulder every few seconds. “Now what?”

  Annja ignored him, intent on her search. She needed something nondescript but also something with enough guts under the hood to get them away from their pursuers. She wasn’t familiar enough with the Russian models to even make an educated guess as to their usefulness. Fortunately, there was a black Mercedes sedan parked three cars up.

  She crept beside it and gently lifted the handle on the front passenger door.

  Locked.

  “What are you doing?” Gianni whispered in her ear.

  “Getting us out of here,” Annja whispered back as she glanced up and down the street.

  Not seeing anyone, she rose to her feet, put her back to the door and smashed her elbow sharply against the driver’s-side window. The sound of the glass shattering was still hanging in the air as she reached in and opened the door.

  “Get in and keep your head down,” she said.

  “But…”

  “No buts!” she snarled. “Get in before we’re out of time.”

  As if to emphasize her point, they heard the sound of a shot and a bullet shattered the window of the car parked be
hind them.

  That was all the urging Gianni needed. He hauled open the back door and flung himself down on the backseat as Annja climbed into the front.

  Shouts were coming from somewhere behind them now but she ignored them, kicking savagely at the steering column until the portion covering the ignition wires cracked away.

  “Get us out of here!” Gianni yelled from the backseat.

  Annja didn’t waste her breath in replying, but that was exactly what she was doing. She slid in behind the wheel and then reached under the steering column. She yanked down the wires and quickly selected the ones she needed.

  More sounds of gunfire, much closer this time, and bullets slammed into the trunk of the car, causing Gianni to let loose a blistering stream of curses in Italian. Thankfully none of the bullets came through into the passenger compartment. Annja chanced a glance behind her and saw three men closing in on their position. They had guns in their hands and even as she looked on, one of them fired again, the bullet blowing a hole in the rear window and plowing into the headrest of the passenger seat only a few inches away from her face.

  She twisted the wires together in her hand and was rewarded with the throaty growl of the Mercedes engine. With a shout of triumph she cut the wheel to the left, threw the gearshift into drive and hit the accelerator. The Mercedes rocked away from the curb, its tires squealing.

  Bullets chased them down the street.

  * * *

  “WE NEED TO DITCH THE CAR,” Gianni said.

  He was right. It had been an hour since their narrow escape from the hotel and sooner or later someone was sure to report the car as stolen, if it hadn’t happened already. Frankly she was surprised they’d attracted as little attention as they had; apparently the sight of a vehicle with enough bullet holes in it to play connect-the-dots wasn’t as uncommon a sight to the citizens of Moscow as she’d imagined it would be.

  She’d been driving aimlessly for the past hour, trying to stay off the main thoroughfares and threading her way through the back streets, intentionally avoiding those nicer parts of the city that foreigners like them would be most expected to retreat to in times of trouble. Now she’d begun intentionally looking for a place where they could leave the Mercedes behind without getting mugged or killed in the process.

  She found it about fifteen minutes later, a run-down neighborhood of tenement buildings and corner bars but with enough foot traffic that they wouldn’t be mugged the minute they abandoned the vehicle. Annja parked between a battered old Volvo and a panel truck that had seen better days. They left the doors unlocked and just walked away, knowing the car wouldn’t be there by sunrise and feeling pretty happy about that. The chop-shop thieves would tear it down to its component parts in a matter of hours, erasing any evidence of their theft in the process.

  They walked to the nearest bar and paid the bartender six hundred rubles, or about twenty bucks American, to have him call them a cab. It was highway robbery, no doubt about it, but Annja couldn’t afford to call attention to themselves by arguing—or threatening the bartender with her sword—so she let it go.

  She thanked him for his generosity in making the call as she handed over the money. The whole time she was telling herself that karma always has a way of coming back and biting you on the ass when you least expect it and that bartender was going to get his own, no doubt about it.

  The cabbie thought they were a couple of rich tourists out slumming and he also tried to gouge them. This time they were away from prying eyes and Annja quickly disabused him of the notion with a few choice words and a highly effective nerve strike to the arm she had snatched up and was now holding over the back of the seat. For a moment she thought she was going to have to snap the arm, which might give her satisfaction but wouldn’t get them out of their current predicament, but then the cabbie gave in and took them to a nearby hotel without any more fuss.

  It was the kind of place that rented rooms by the hour and charged a deposit on the bedsheets, but Annja didn’t care at this point. Everyone who came here was looking for some privacy and those who stayed made an effort not to remember anything about anyone else they might see. Still, it was only when they were both safely behind the door of the single room they had rented for the night, clutching their sheets, that Annja began to breathe a little easier.

  Because they had been waiting for Sir Charles Davies to return their call, Gianni had been carrying the satellite phone with him at dinner. Thankfully it had survived the subsequent chase and gun battle. They used it now to call their benefactor.

  Charles answered on the second ring.

  “Annja! I hear you have good news for me.”

  It’s amazing what a few hours can do to change one’s fortunes, she thought before taking the time to explain everything that had happened that afternoon and evening. It was not a brief conversation.

  “Where are you now?” he asked, once she had finished bringing him up to speed.

  “A run-down hotel on the outskirts of town.”

  “And the map?”

  “Still locked in the safe at the Marriott, as far as I know.”

  “Which means whoever is chasing you may or may not have it.”

  “I’d guess the latter. It will take them time to make the connection between our faces and the names of a couple of registered guests, so there might be time to recover it.”

  That earned her a grunt from him. “It’s far too dangerous for you to even try,” he said to her. “I’ll see if I can have someone pick it up in proxy for you in the morning. In the meantime, lay low until you hear from me tomorrow. It’s going to take some time to work out a way to get you to the American Embassy.”

  “The embassy?” Annja asked. “Whatever for?”

  “To help get you out of the country, of course. You’ve got armed gunmen after you, Annja. Clearly the situation has gotten too dangerous.”

  Annja laughed. She couldn’t help it. She had managed to find the first clue to the location of the Library of Gold since it had disappeared five hundred years ago and he wanted her to give it up?

  “Why are you laughing?”

  “I’m not backing down—not a chance. I studied that map long enough I can practically re-create it from memory. I’m sure I can. You figure out a way for us to get into those tunnels and I’ll find you that library.”

  She noticed Gianni looking at her oddly, so she asked Charles to hold on for a moment and covered the receiver with her hand.

  “What?” she asked him.

  “Have you gone mad?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Then why are you telling him that we’re going after the library?”

  “Because I am—I assumed you’d want to come with me. Was I wrong?”

  After what seemed like an eternity, he finally nodded.

  It seemed straightforward to her. The only way to ensure nothing they had done so far would come back to haunt them in the end was to continue the expedition. The authorities would be forced to recognize them for finding and restoring such a valuable piece of Russian history. And if there was one thing Annja had learned over the years, it was that it is awfully hard to publicly arrest a hero.

  She put the phone back to her ear. “So what’s our next step?”

  “I’m not sure yet. Stay in your hotel room for now. That will minimize your chances of being seen and recognized. I’ll make some calls, see what I can figure out. I’ll get back to you as soon as I have something.”

  They said their goodbyes and hung up.

  It looked like it was going to be a long night for all of them.

  Chapter 15

  Annja spent a restless night in that cramped little hotel room, lying beside Gianni on the narrow bed. The Italian slept like the dead, snoring quietly in her ear, but several times Annja awoke to voices in the hall. When she did, she’d lie there in nervous anticipation, ready to call her sword and use it if need be. But each time the voices faded as the speakers moved away down the hall.


  Annja was up with the dawn, pacing back and forth inside the small room, staring at the satellite phone and willing it to ring despite the fact that it was the middle of the night in the U.S. She hated sitting around, waiting on someone else. She was a doer by nature and wanted to be figuring out mysteries on her own. But she was hampered by her lack of contacts in this part of the world, never mind the restrictiveness of the regime that controlled the area they needed to be searching in.

  She’d come to the conclusion that even if they were being chased by members of a government agency, which she believed they were, then those members were not acting in any kind of official capacity. Otherwise, the men back at the restaurant would have identified themselves and would have had people watching the entrance and exits to the hotel to be sure they wouldn’t escape. Which meant it was a private group or individual after them. That the gunman she’d taken out hadn’t had any official ID supported her theory.

  And they were not afraid to use force to get what they wanted.

  But what, exactly, did they want?

  That was the question she couldn’t yet answer. She suspected it had to do with the map and, by extension, the library. Though she didn’t understand how word had leaked out about it. Perhaps one of Charles’s contacts had been loose-lipped?

  Of course, there was also the possibility that whoever was after them had nothing at all to do with the library, that it was Annja who was the target over something to do with a confrontation in her past. Since taking up the sword she’d foiled the plans of some dangerous people and there was nothing yet to prove that this wasn’t revenge against her.

  For all she knew, they might have even been after Gianni. She barely knew him and had no idea what kinds of activities he might have been involved in prior to this.