The pythia gave an exasperated sigh. “When have you ever known me to make up three-syllable words and string them together in a sentence? That’s your department.”
“I stand corrected. So what words of wisdom does Mr. Murphy have to offer in his codicil?”
“That when a thing that can go wrong is about to go wrong at the worst possible time—you won’t be able to dodge it because you’ll never see it coming.”
The scrivener shrugged philosophically. “On the whole, this night might have gone worse. Whoever they are, at least they didn’t kill us.”
“The night’s not over yet,” Cassie remarked ominously.
Chapter 49—A Flawless Plan
The argument among Cassie’s and Griffin’s captors continued for another quarter hour. Eventually, the voices receded into the distance. It sounded as if they were traveling back up the mountain.
The pair relaxed slightly once the gang was out of earshot.
“Who were those guys?” the pythia asked. “They weren’t Nephilim. I know that because we’re not dead.”
“I have no idea. I didn’t recognize the dialect they were speaking.”
A lantern glowed just beyond the tent flap, bathing the interior in a dim yellow light.
“It doesn’t sound like they left a guard outside,” Cassie observed cautiously.
“I don’t hear anyone either,” the scrivener agreed.
They both waited for the lantern’s owner to make a move but nothing was stirring beyond their canvas prison other than the hollow wind.
In the faint light, Cassie noticed that their backpacks had been shaken out, searched, and then tossed into the tent after them. The attackers hadn’t taken any of the contents which meant they’d been looking for something specific.
“Check out our packs.” The pythia drew Griffin’s attention to their scattered belongings. “They didn’t find what they were after which means they must want the relic.”
“How is that even possible?” The scrivener registered surprise.
“Think about it,” Cassie answered. “It was pretty easy for the twins to find out what Daniel and Hunt were planning for tonight. What if somebody else overheard them and decided to grab the goods as those two came back down the mountain?”
“If that’s the case, why would they waylay us?”
“Who knows? It was dark out. Maybe all Western tourists look alike in the dark. I’d be suspicious of anybody climbing down from Kailash at this hour.”
“It still seems odd that they should disappear after tying us up.”
Cassie was as stumped as her companion. “Maybe they were sure we had the artifact. They were thrown when they didn’t find it. Maybe there’s somebody else who’s giving the orders, and they had to report back to him to decide what to do next.”
“Oh, dear!” The scrivener sounded stricken. “If those men really are thieves, I can think of only two possible ways this evening can end for us.”
Cassie braced herself. “I’m only listening to this because my hands are tied up, and I can’t cover my ears.”
Griffin forged ahead. “In the first scenario, they believe we stole the artifact and hid it somewhere. They’ll torture us to find out its location.”
Cassie swallowed hard. “What’s the second possibility?”
“In the second scenario, they believe they made an error, and someone else stole the artifact. They’ll cut our throats to keep us from exposing them.”
“Given those two choices, I vote for option three.”
“Which is?”
“We get the hell out of here before they come back!” Cassie frantically twisted her hands in an effort to loosen the ropes.
Griffin seemed not to hear her. “I say, this shelter looks like the old mummery tents that were used by Himalayan climbers several decades back.”
“So what?” Cassie failed to see the relevance of the comment as she continued to fidget with the ropes.
“Mummery tents are unusual. Their design is floorless.”
The pythia stopped struggling. She tried to turn her head to glare at the scrivener but couldn’t quite manage it, so she settled for whacking him in the back of the skull with her own.
“Oww! Why the bloody hell did you do that?”
“To snap you out of it because I think you’ve lost your marbles! Our lives are literally hanging by a thread... Well, more like a bunch of threads... But that isn’t the point. We’re in dire peril, and you’re fixating on flawless tent design?”
“Not flawless, floorless!” Griffin objected, trying to keep his voice down. “F-L-O-O-R-L-E-S-S.”
Cassie gritted her teeth. “Griffin, your accent is adorable but in Brit Speak those two words sound exactly the same. Would it kill you to pronounce a hard ‘R’ every once in a while?”
Ignoring her comment, he resumed his explanation. “Given our current predicament, floorlessness is a useful feature. We can—”
She cut him off. “Now that we’ve cleared the pronunciation hurdle, I’m way ahead of you.” The pythia managed to dig the heel of her boot into the sleeping bag on which she was seated. Dragging the coverlet to the side, she exposed the loose rock beneath. Then she swept the ground with her leg, drawing half a dozen stones toward the two captives. “C’mon, flawless,” she urged. “Mama needs a sharpie.”
Griffin noticed her actions and began a dredging operation of his own. Unfortunately, his long legs couldn’t quite tuck in far enough to bring the stones close to their bodies.
“Allow me,” Cassie offered. “Aside from needing a step stool to reach my top kitchen cabinets, being vertically-challenged has its advantages. It gives me a smaller turning radius.”
By twisting her hips sideways, she managed to push a sizeable mound of rocks right beneath Griffin’s hands.
“Your fingers are longer. Can you find something in that pile with a cutting edge to fray these ropes?”
There was silence for several seconds as he sorted through the rock collection.
“Aha! I do believe I’ve found one. It feels as jagged as an arrowhead to me.”
“Good, then work on my hands first. Those guys didn’t tie my wrists too tightly.”
“I imagine they went more easily on you because you’re a woman.”
Cassie gave a short bark of a laugh. “That mistake is gonna cost them.”
Griffin sawed away feverishly.
“Ouch!” The pythia winced. She could feel blood running down her fingers.
“Cassie, I’m so sorry!” The scrivener stopped immediately. “Are you injured?”
“Forget it. A nick on my wrist is no biggie. Besides, the blood might make the rope slippery—easier for me to slide out.”
“Forgive me for calling you a fatalist earlier this evening,” Griffin said dryly. “Your willingness to take life’s lemons and make blood lemonade bespeaks a truly appalling form of optimism.”
“Thanks. I think...”
The scrivener returned to his task, albeit more carefully. At the end of five minutes, he’d succeeded in fraying the top layer of rope.
Cassie interrupted his labors. “Hold on. Let’s see if I can wiggle out yet.” She twisted her hands this way and that. The rope was definitely looser but not enough for her to slip free. “A little more,” she advised.
The scrivener was about to resume the operation but froze when they both heard a noise outside.
Footsteps were traveling toward the tent. The two of them sat bolt upright, pressing their backs close together to hide the makeshift knife and pile of rocks.
The flap opened, and a face peered in at them—a man with coarse, weather-beaten features and a scraggly gray beard. His flashlight beam swept the interior of the tent as his sharp, beady eyes darted into every corner. Fortunately, it didn’t appear to their guard as if anything was amiss. He gave a satisfied grunt and withdrew, lowering the flap behind him.
Scuffling noise
s beyond the tent meant he had taken a seat on the ground just outside the door.
“Perfect!” Cassie hissed in frustration. “As if it wasn’t already hard enough to pull a Houdini, this particular escape trick didn’t need an audience!”
“Shhh,” Griffin warned. He recommenced slicing away at their bonds. Fortunately, the sound of his efforts was almost imperceptible.
Cassie could feel blisters and rope burns forming on her wrists from her repeated attempts to free herself. Each effort reopened the cut on her hand. It continued to trickle blood.
Several tense minutes later, the scrivener paused in his work. “Try now,” he instructed.
The pythia winced and twisted her wrists. This time, the rope yielded just enough to allow her to drag one hand out. As noiselessly as she could, she snaked around and worked the remaining knot free, exhaling with relief when it gave way. Quietly rotating to face Griffin’s back, she untied his hands.
Then she leaned over and spoke in his ear. “We need to get rid of that rough character outside, grab our gear, and go.”
“How do you propose we dispatch him?”
She chuckled softly. “Check your coat pocket.”
“Yes, of course. I’d forgotten.” He reached in and grasped the stun gun she’d given him earlier. “Would you like to do the honors, or shall I?”
“Thanks for the offer but this seems like a two-person operation. You grab him, and I’ll zap him.”
“Righty-ho then.”
The pair crept stealthily toward the tent flap. They took up kneeling positions on either side of the opening.
“Hey, you!” Cassie called loudly. “Get in here!”
Their guard stirred. He poked his head through the flap to see what the noise was about. When he did so, Griffin grabbed him in a headlock and covered his mouth while Cassie zapped him in the neck with her stun gun. He went down without a struggle.
The two of them paused, waiting to see if anyone else was nearby. All remained quiet except for the ever-restless wind. They dragged the guard’s inert body inside the tent. Then they used their discarded bindings to tie him hand and foot. Cassie fashioned a makeshift gag out of his scarf. As a finishing touch, she gave him another jolt with her stun gun.
“That ought to keep you quiet for a while,” she muttered.
Not wanting to use their flashlights to attract attention, they groped around in the shadowy tent to retrieve their scattered belongings and stash them into their backpacks.
Cassie put a restraining hand on Griffin’s arm. “Did you hear that?” she asked tensely.
“No, what is it?”
“It sounded like voices out on the trail. Maybe the rest of the gang is coming back.”
“I don’t know if we can outrun them,” Griffin observed uneasily. “Especially once the sun comes up.”
“I wouldn’t worry too much about sunrise if I were you,” Cassie countered sardonically. “The jury’s still out on whether or not we can survive the night.”
Chapter 50—Relatively True
“Welcome, my son! Welcome home.” Abraham spread his arms wide to enfold Daniel in a fatherly embrace.
The scion looked mildly surprised but came forward to accept the gesture of affection.
“Your trip was successful?” the diviner asked, still smiling.
“Yes. Yes, it was.” Daniel placed an object wrapped in cloth on his father’s desk.
The old man carefully undid the packaging, gasping in surprise at what he saw. “This artifact, heathen though it may be, is quite impressive.”
“It is,” Daniel agreed diffidently. He took a seat in one of the low visitor chairs in front of his father’s desk.
Abraham noted his son’s lackluster reaction but decided not to dwell on it. He sat down in his own chair so that he could gaze benevolently on both Daniel and the relic. “Each new victory proves you are fulfilling God’s grand design for the Nephilim. I’m sure He is pleased with you.”
The scion nodded in acknowledgment but offered no remark.
The diviner chalked up his demeanor to fatigue. “Now you must rest. Spend some time with your wives and children.”
“Speaking of my family,” Daniel sat forward. “I went to see Annabeth when I first arrived home, but I couldn’t find her. Her sister-wives said she’d been taken away. Is she well?”
Abraham’s face clouded over briefly at the thought of Annabeth’s rampage and the steps he’d been forced to take to vanquish her. Is she well? The diviner had thought long and hard about how to answer that inevitable question. In an absolute sense, she was well. After she had paid for her rebellion with her life, Annabeth had taken her place among the blessed in the celestial kingdoms, there to await the return of her husband. She was at peace just as the diviner had promised Daniel she would be.
However, Abraham was pragmatic enough to realize that telling his son of his wife’s demise might seriously jeopardize the future of the relic quest. There was one more artifact yet to be collected before the diviner would possess the Sage Stone. He could ill afford to have his son’s mind distracted by grief. Is she well? In the present moment, confronted by his son’s earnest face, he gave the only reply possible.
“Never fear, my son. She is receiving the best care possible.”
“What do you mean?” Daniel leaped from his chair.
The old man smiled benignly. “Calm yourself, Daniel. Sit down and let me explain.”
Looking unconvinced, the scion resumed his seat and waited.
Abraham sighed heavily. “Just before your return, Annabeth took a turn for the worse. Her behavior became erratic, and I was forced to call in medical assistance.”
The diviner was not lying to his son. Annabeth had indeed become erratic, and medical assistance in the person of Doctor Aboud had been summoned.
Daniel’s eyes flew open wide. “You sent her to one of those places? To a mental institution?”
“I sent her to an institution but only for a time, my son. Only for a time. Her fits of violence made her a danger to the community. I had no choice but to relocate her where she could receive the care she needed.”
This was not a lie either. Annabeth, in her volatile state, posed a spiritual threat to his flock and Abraham had placed her temporarily in an institution—Doctor Aboud’s underground laboratory.
“When can I see her?” the scion asked urgently.
The diviner shook his head sadly. “Not for a while, I’m afraid. Her condition seems to worsen whenever she comes into contact with family members—myself, your other wives, her daughter. The doctors have forbidden any of us to see her, at least for the next month or so. Be patient. She will be restored to you in time.”
Nor was this last statement a lie. Annabeth would be restored to him in time—at the end of all time. Husband and wife would be reunited in heaven, and then his son would realize that Abraham had acted for the greater good. In the near term, Daniel would be given periodic reports of Annabeth’s decline. Within a month, the scion would be told that Annabeth had contracted a fatal disease at the institution. This was equally true. She had contracted pneumonic plague. A week later, it would be reported that Annabeth had succumbed to an infection which was so highly contagious that her body had to be cremated to avoid contaminating anyone else. Another true statement. Her corpse had been burned in Aboud’s incinerator. Daniel would be told there could be no burial because there was no body to bury. True yet again—only a pile of ashes remained. If Daniel questioned any of these facts, Doctor Aboud would be summoned to testify to their verity, and the doctor could bear witness with a clear conscience. None of these statements were falsehoods.
No doubt, once the diviner’s son had put these shocking events behind him, he would devote his full attention to the relic quest. Abraham felt confident that matters would proceed more smoothly with no family distractions to get in the way. Annabeth’s entire life had been the very definition of pointless
distraction.
“I understand, Father.” Daniel’s words broke into the old man’s reverie. The scion seemed resigned to the news of Annabeth’s condition. “It’s time I paid a visit to my other wives and children.”
“Yes, of course.” Abraham rose and walked his son to the door, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I will not forget the great service you have rendered to the Blessed Nephilim this day. You have earned the gratitude of the entire brotherhood and my own personal thanks as well.”
Daniel ducked his head uncomfortably and left.
***
After his son’s departure, Abraham turned to admire his newest acquisition. He picked it up reverently. This was a momentous day. The artifact, separated from its counterparts for thousands of years, was about to be reunited with them in his treasury room.
He had already taken the precaution of switching off the surveillance cameras in his office so none of the security staff would see the object his son had just deposited on his desk. Nor would they see him slide open the wooden panel on the opposite wall to reveal an alcove and the solid steel door beyond.
He punched a code into the keypad next to the inner door which protected his treasury. Then he entered. The metal door and the wooden panel both slid shut noiselessly behind him.
He glanced around at the locked drawers lining the walls, each one guarding a treasure of its own. In aggregate, they held the world’s most concentrated collection of objects of mystical power. It had taken Abraham decades to amass them. In anticipation of his son’s return, he had already retrieved the other three Minoan artifacts from their storage lockers and set them out on the table in the middle of the room.
On the left side was the golden bee, then the lapis dove, after that the diamond-studded bull. To the right of the bull, he set down this latest find and stepped back a few paces to admire the priceless menagerie which had taken so much struggle and sacrifice to retrieve.
Abraham gave a satisfied smile as he gazed down at the artifacts resting on the table before him. Their very presence in his treasury was a sure sign that God’s favor had been restored to the diviner in spite of recent unfortunate events. Annabeth’s Satanic master would have to find another even more weak-minded vessel to do his bidding. Daniel’s late wife could no longer compromise Abraham’s position in the heavenly hierarchy.
Arkana Archaeology Mystery Box Set 2 Page 28
