by Gabriel Hunt
Movement at the corner of his eye brought Gabriel’s attention back to the pedestal. The stone fingers began to bend inward on their hinges to form a thumbless fist. Just like in Borneo, before they’d almost gotten buried alive in the chamber. He pointed in the direction of the hatch and started swimming, gripping the emerald tightly and kicking his legs as fast as he could. He glanced back to make sure Joyce was still behind him. Past her, at the far end of the underwater crypt, a panel in the ceiling was sliding open (damn it, he hadn’t seen a seam!), and a large, jagged stone fell through, moving at a tremendous pace as though hurled by some sort of spring mechanism. It smashed the pedestal beneath it and careened off the floor. Because the chamber was angled downward toward the hatch, the stone caromed toward them. It banged off the walls, smashing off shards of stone that spun through the water like shrapnel. Behind it, another stone, even larger than the first, shot out of the hole and barreled toward them in the first one’s wake. Then a third. Gabriel twisted back around and kicked as fast as he could toward the hatch.
The water slowed the speed of the oncoming boulders, but not enough. He’d seen the damage they were capable of doing. If one of them hit him or Joyce, they’d be pulped.
As they swam desperately along the channel, he felt Joyce beside him, tugging at his arm. He looked where she was pointing—at the alcoves with the skeletons inside. She swam toward one of the alcoves and started wedging herself inside.
Not a crazy idea on the face of it—hide in an alcove, let the stones pass—but in fact it would be suicide, for reasons he had neither the time nor the ability, underwater, to explain. Instead, he yanked Joyce out of the alcove she’d swum halfway into and shoved her furiously toward the hatch. She plunged through, disappearing outside. He gave one last glance over his shoulder and saw the first boulder bearing down on him. Gabriel launched himself through the hatch.
He made it through a fraction of a second before the boulder slammed against the hatch from inside, blocking the opening. The second boulder hit the first from behind a second later, then the third, and with each impact the metal frame of the hatch warped and bulged under the weight, forming a tight seal. If they hadn’t made it out—if they’d tried to duck into the alcoves instead of fleeing—there was no way they would have gotten out now.
Joyce stared at him through her mask, the look on her face once again tinged with embarrassment. Gabriel pointed toward the surface and started swimming up. Let her feel embarrassed all she wants. I promised her uncle I’d keep her alive.
A few minutes later he spied the bright beacon lights along the bottom of the Ashina Tuwu and headed for them. Joyce followed close behind. When they broke the surface, Gabriel saw Daniel rushing down the steps from the flybridge toward them. They pulled themselves up the ladder on the side of the ship, Gabriel clutching the emerald in one arm. He took the regulator out of his mouth and slipped out of the air tank’s straps, putting it down on the deck next to Joyce’s.
Daniel handed them each a towel and said breathlessly, “Dear god, is that it?”
Gabriel held up the emerald. “Right where Arnuwanda said it would be.”
“My God,” Daniel said, “it’s huge. It would be worth a fortune to any jeweler, never mind the historical value.”
“Right, never mind that,” Joyce said. She flipped her ponytail to her shoulder and squeezed the water out of it. “That’s only the reason dozens of people are trying to kill us right now.”
“Oh, I know, I know,” Daniel said, still staring at the gemstone. He reached for it tentatively. “May I?” Gabriel handed it to him. “Oh, my word. Is it…vibrating?” He put his ear to it. “And humming? It’s incredible! I can feel something, like an electrical charge.” He shook his head in wonder. “Fantastic.”
Daniel handed the gemstone back to Gabriel. “I’ll turn the ship around. We should be back in time for dinner. I know a place on the Atatürk Caddesi. A bit pricy, but this calls for a celebration.” He climbed the steps to the flybridge again and disappeared behind the tinted windows.
Gabriel stood by the railing, letting the sunlight play off the facets of the emerald in his hand. They’d beaten Grissom to the second Eye of Teshub. That was good, but it didn’t mean they were out of danger yet. Grissom still had the first gemstone, and quite possibly had a better idea of where the final one was hidden than they did. Of course, even if Grissom found the third Eye before they did, the Spearhead was presumably useless, inert, without all three to activate it. But that only put their lives in further danger. It meant Grissom would come looking for the missing piece, and he wouldn’t stop until he had it.
Briefly Gabriel thought about whether they could use Grissom’s determination to their advantage somehow—maybe they could stay put in Turkey and let him come to them. But no, it was too dangerous. Grissom had too many men under his command, too many resources. Besides, Joyce would never go for it. Watching her walk toward him across the deck, tying a towel around her hips like a skirt, Gabriel knew exactly what she was going to say. He could have written the script for her.
“The third gemstone is still out there somewhere,” she said. “We have to find it before Grissom does. It’s the only way to keep him from getting his hands on the Spearhead.”
“You still don’t have any idea what that third element from the legend is?”
She shook her head. The light from the emerald reflected in her eyes as she stared at it. She lifted it out of his hands and cradled it between her palms. “Whoa! You guys weren’t kidding about the vibrations. How is it possible? It’s just an emerald, isn’t it?”
He cupped his hands around hers, feeling the gemstone’s muffled vibrations through her flesh. “I met a medicine woman in Paraguay once, one of the last of her tribe, who claimed to be able to use crystals to heal the sick. Her line was that all crystals are in a constant state of vibration, which gives them special conductive properties. She said it was what made it possible for her to heal her patients.”
“Did it work?”
Gabriel shrugged. “I don’t know if it was the crystals or not, but a lot of sick people got well in her care. Maybe it was purely psychological. Maybe there was more to it.”
“But you couldn’t actually feel the vibrations in her crystals, could you?”
Gabriel shook his head.
“So this is different.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” Gabriel said.
“It’s like these gemstones are so charged up that they can barely contain the energy inside them. But what kind of energy is it? Where did it come from?”
“Don’t you remember the legend?” Gabriel said. “It came from Teshub.”
She laughed sarcastically, but only for a moment. He wasn’t laughing, and with the giant emerald thrumming powerfully in their hands, no explanation felt like it was worth dismissing.
They stood for a moment in silence.
“So…Gabriel,” she said, looking up at him. “Are we up to four now, or have I lost count?”
“Four what?”
“Four times you’ve saved my life.”
“Someone’s got to,” Gabriel said. “You keep risking it.” He smiled. “And what would the world do without Joyce Wingard to keep things interesting?”
A questioning look came into her eyes, for once an unguarded one, and she tilted her head back. There was no embarrassment in her expression now, nor any hostility. Her lips were slightly parted, and it was clear what she was waiting for. He bent his head forward and kissed her, felt her lips soft against his, her tongue slipping gently between them, her eyes sliding shut. She released the gemstone with one hand and moved it up to behind his head, her fingers curling in his wet hair. Her grip tightened and she pressed her lips harder against his—and then she broke away suddenly. She turned her face aside.
“I should…,” she said. Her breathing was unsteady. “I’m going to get changed.”
“Sure,” Gabriel said, though sure was the last thing he felt. “T
hat’s a good idea.”
He took the emerald back from her and watched her walk to the door.
“I’m sorry,” he called to her. “I shouldn’t have…”
She glanced back at him over her shoulder. “What in the world are you talking about, Hunt? Of course you should have.” A half-smile played about her face, then she disappeared belowdeck.
He shook his head. What have you gotten yourself into now?
He opened the backpack and placed the gemstone and the Death’s Head Key inside. He looked up at the tinted rear windows of the flybridge. The ship had turned around, heading back for Antalya, and with the sun now on the other side of the bridge he could make out Daniel’s silhouette through the dark glass. He thought he saw Daniel move something small away from his ear—a cell phone?—and slip it into his pants pocket.
Chapter 16
If Daniel had seen their kiss on the boat, he didn’t mention it. In fact, Daniel didn’t talk much at all on their trip back from the marina to the hotel. It seemed unlike him, especially after he’d been so excited when they’d brought the Eye up. Gabriel, back in his street clothes, adjusted the heavy backpack on his shoulders as they rode the elevator to the penthouse and tried to guess what was going through the older man’s head. Daniel stood at the front of the elevator car, shifting his weight anxiously from one foot to the other. Something was definitely up; he’d have to ask Daniel about it when they were next alone.
Which they weren’t right now. Standing in the back of the elevator beside Gabriel, Joyce surreptitiously wrapped her fingers around his. He glanced at her, but she didn’t meet his eye, keeping her gaze forward and her face expressionless, entirely professional. The elevator pinged and the doors opened, and she quickly pulled her hand back.
Daniel led the way to his room, pulling the keycard from his pocket. He slid it into the lock mechanism on the door, waited for the little light beside the slot to turn green, and then pushed the door open. As they walked through, Gabriel saw Daniel raise his hands over his head. His heart sank even before he saw Edgar Grissom sitting on a chair in the living room, one leg casually crossed over the other. It wasn’t until the door slammed behind him that he noticed the other men standing in key positions around the room. Three stood near Grissom, another by the side table along the wall, and a fifth was behind them, covering the door. All five had guns drawn and pointed at them.
“Frisk them,” Grissom said. The man behind them left his post at the door and patted Gabriel down. Not finding anything, he moved on to Joyce.
“No weapons,” the man said.
Grissom beckoned. “The backpack.” Gabriel shrugged out of it and the man who’d frisked him carried it over. Grissom unzipped it, looked inside, and chuckled. “Excellent. The Star, the Death’s Head Key, the second gemstone, even your gun. I couldn’t have gotten a better gift if it were Christmas.” He lifted the emerald out of the backpack and regarded it in the light. “Once again I ought to thank you. You have done all the heavy lifting for me, Mr. Hunt. Killing you seems like such a waste. I really ought to hire you instead.” Grissom replaced the emerald in the backpack and zipped it closed. He smiled at Daniel. His hands, no longer raised, hung feebly at his sides. “Professor Wingard can tell you that I am a fair man to work with.”
Joyce’s face clouded over with anger. “You…helped him?”
Gabriel suspected his own face was displaying a similar combination of disbelief and disappointment. How could Daniel have sold them out? Not just Gabriel, the son of two of his oldest and closest friends, but Joyce, his own niece, whom he’d spoken so sincerely of wanting to protect. Or maybe he thought this was a good way to protect her? Get the Eyes and the Star out of her hands once and for all, never mind whose he was putting them in?
Daniel looked on the verge of tears. “I’m so sorry, my dear. You must believe me when I say that. Mr. Grissom contacted me a week ago, told me you’d been kidnapped in Borneo. He said he would bring you back safely if I helped him with his search for the gemstones.”
“And you believed him?” Joyce demanded.
“Why shouldn’t he?” Grissom said. “I’m a man of my word. But imagine my surprise when I discovered that the famous Gabriel Hunt had beaten me to it. Of course, even before I contacted your uncle, I already knew you were in possession of the Star of Arnuwanda, Miss Wingard. It’s amazing what spreading a little cash around can accomplish with the locals here in Turkey.”
Gabriel glanced at the three metal cylinders standing by the side table and remembered Daniel mentioning how the expensive acetylene gas was safer in his room than at the dig site because the place was full of thieves. Well, one of those thieves had signed their death warrants with a phone call to Grissom, and for what? A few extra coins?
Daniel turned to Gabriel, tears streaming down his cheeks. “I didn’t know you would get involved, Gabriel. I thought they would just take the key from you in New York and that would be the end of it.”
Gabriel’s eyes narrowed. “What?”
Grissom laughed. “You mean you haven’t figured it out yet? How we knew you had the Death’s Head Key?”
Daniel hung his head and wiped at his eyes with the heel of his hand.
“Tell me,” Gabriel said. Grissom started to speak, but Gabriel cut him off. “Not you. You,” he said to Daniel. “You tell me.”
Daniel took a deep breath. “You know I still talk with your brother from time to time, right? The last time, Michael mentioned that you’d gone to the Amazon to find the key. When Mr. Grissom mentioned he was looking for it, too, I thought…” He shook his head and looked at Joyce. “I’m no fool. I knew the kind of man I was dealing with. But I thought if I got him the key, it would ensure your safety. Please, Joyce, I’m so sorry. I only did it for you.”
She turned away from him.
“Please—”
Grissom smiled. “Don’t beg, Professor. It’s not seemly for a man of your experience. She is a petulant child and doesn’t appreciate what you’ve done for her.”
“Speaking of petulant children,” Gabriel said, “where’s your son? I’d have expected to see him here, carrying your bags.”
“Julian will be joining us momentarily, Mr. Hunt. I know how much he’s looking forward to seeing you again after your last encounter.”
The door behind Gabriel opened.
“Ah, speak of the devil,” Grissom said.
“The stairwells are manned, and the security cameras on this floor will be down for half an hour,” Julian reported. “Any longer than that and hotel security will get suspicious. We’re going to want to be long gone by then.”
“Well done,” Grissom said. He nodded toward Gabriel. “Our friend here was just asking about you.”
Julian came around. He had a gun in his hand and Gabriel saw that his throat still bore the angry red marks of the choke hold that had rendered him unconscious.
Gabriel smiled. “Nice scar.”
Julian turned the gun toward Gabriel’s face.
“Not yet, Julian,” Grissom said. “You’ll have your chance soon enough, my boy. But Mr. Hunt and I have some unfinished business of our own.” From his jacket pocket he pulled the ivory-handled dagger. He pressed the eye of the dragon carved along the handle and the two additional blades sprang out to flank the central one. Grissom rose from the chair, leaving the backpack on the cushion behind him.
“Step aside, Julian,” Grissom said.
Julian obediently stepped to one side—but in doing so, he came within Gabriel’s reach. Gabriel swept one hand up, grabbing Julian’s gun arm and yanking it so the weapon pointed toward the side table. The gunman standing there ducked aside, but he wasn’t the target. Gabriel squeezed Julian’s fingers against the trigger.
One of the acetylene cylinders exploded in a violent eruption of fire and thick black smoke. Everyone hit the floor except the gunman who’d been nearest to the table; a large piece of the canister’s outer shell sliced crosswise through his torso and pinne
d him to the wall. His clothing erupted into flames.
A shrill alarm sounded from the smoke detector on the ceiling. The sprinkler system turned on, drenching the room in a cold rain. Gabriel wrestled the gun out of Julian’s hands, sprang to his feet and broke for the chair across the room, where Grissom had left the backpack.
Undeterred by the sprinklers, the fire climbed up the wall, devouring the wallpaper and charring the wooden frame of the mirror above the side table. Thick black smoke filled the room. Gabriel felt light-headed, and realized the acetylene gas was mixing with the smoke. Through the haze, he saw Grissom kneeling and coughing violently into a handkerchief, the dagger on the floor by his knees.
Shapes moved in the thick smoke as Grissom’s men got back to their feet. Gunshots sounded. Gabriel heard a bullet zip past his head and smash a ceramic lamp by the couch. Another smashed the mirror into shards of glass. With Grissom’s men unable to see, they were shooting in all directions. He heard voices shouting but none of them sounded like Joyce’s. He’d lost track of her—but he didn’t dare call her name, not while the gunmen were looking for any indication of a direction to fire in.
He snatched the backpack off the chair and, hearing footsteps behind him, spun around. A man rushed toward him through the smoke, gun in hand. Gabriel swung the backpack, hitting the gunman in the head and knocking him to the floor. The man rolled away and came back up with his weapon blazing. Bullets tore through the air beside Gabriel, so close he could feel their heat on his skin. Gabriel lifted Julian’s gun, aimed into the center of the dark mass in the smoke and fired. The man fell and didn’t get back up.
Sopping wet from the sprinklers, eyes burning, throat raw, he slung the backpack over one shoulder and dropped to a crouch. A breeze from a shattered window swept through the thick smoke, clearing it a little, and he was suddenly able to make out two figures grappling on the other side of the room. One was tall and thick, the other shorter and with a ponytail flapping at the back of her head. Joyce! He saw her elbow her opponent in the side of the head. When the man fell forward, she brought her knee up into his face. He hit the floor hard and stayed there. As Joyce turned, another man came up behind her, snatching her off her feet.
