“We must leave,” Berhanu said, turning on the spot. “Perhaps we can --”
He broke off abruptly. The Kohen had disappeared. Estelle heard the distinct sound of a door closing.
“Seriously?!”
“What do we do?” Berhanu demanded, turning back to Rick.
He still held his pistol, but it wasn’t raised. She heard him sigh. “Just try not to get shot.”
The group of shadows surrounded the sanctuary, standing just outside the fence. Light burst from all directions as flashlights flared to life, blinding Estelle. Voices began to shout, overlapping so that the words were lost in a roaring clamor. Her glasses couldn’t keep up; she had no idea what she was being told to do. Her mind began to fill with a white fog, panic trickling into her lungs.
“Hands,” Rick hissed at her. She raised them immediately, still blinded. “Kneel down,” he said. She did so, glimpsing Rick and Berhanu do the same. The lights readjusted, and she was blinded again.
The voices continued to shout, filling her head and making it throb. They rose towards a crescendo -- and then fell silent.
Estelle’s ears rang. In the heavy silence she heard a squeal of hinges and the sound of unhurried steps approaching. Through her eyelashes she could just make out a backlit figure. It seemed impossibly thin in the glare of the lights.
It stopped before Rick, its shadow thrown across him. Estelle heard a soft voice speaking Amharic. Too quiet for her glasses to translate. She watched a pair of boots pace leisurely towards where Berhanu knelt, pause; then, just as slowly, make their way towards her.
She ducked her head, chest tightening, trying to become invisible --
A hand reached down. Fingers touched her chin and her face was tilted up. In the glare Estelle could just make out a face very close to hers. A woman, with large amber eyes and a shaved scalp.
“Who are you?” the woman asked softly. She studied Estelle’s face, eyes penetrating.
Estelle opened her mouth. Nothing but a squeak escaped. Her throat had closed; she could hardly breathe, let alone speak.
“What have you done with it?” the woman asked.
Done with what? The question didn’t make sense to Estelle’s panicked mind. She hadn’t done anything, hadn’t --
“I know you came back for it,” the woman said. A thumb traced Estelle’s jaw. “Tell me where it is.”
Estelle blinked, vision blurring. There was a roaring in her ears like the pounding of the ocean. She opened her mouth again and finally managed to find words. The voice sounded nothing like her own. “I-I don’t know. I don’t know what you’re --”
She sighed, releasing Estelle’s face. Estelle’s head dropped to her breast, too heavy to lift. She sensed the woman standing, turning, moving away. Would they be left alone?
Then she spoke, in a voice quite different from the one Estelle had heard. It cut across the sanctuary grounds and through the trees like a shard of glass. Estelle’s glasses translated, but she couldn’t make sense of the tiny red letters, her eyes wouldn’t focus and were too filled with tears.
A great shout went up, making her flinch as if struck. It was coming from those dark figures gathered on the other side of the fence. They roared to the heavens, the Earth seeming to shake with their voices, overlapping and mingling to become something less than human, a force of nature.
In it all, Estelle could recognize just one word. A name, repeated over and over. It rang in her ears as rough hands grabbed her by the arms and hauled her to her feet, dragged her away from the sanctuary.
K’ebero.
Twenty
Axum
Tigray, Ethiopia
Something reeked, like shit and a dozen eggs gone bad. Slowly Kai came to, swimming up from a fuzzy darkness.
He opened his eyes to a world of pain. His face hurt. His torso hurt. His arms hurt. Even his ass hurt. It took a few seconds for his brain to chug into motion. Dimly he recalled venturing out into the city with Booker, looking for a truck or a van that wasn’t being used by anybody. Then a dozen scrawny rebel-types had come pouring out of the alleyways before either of them could do so much as sneeze. He thought maybe he’d knocked out a couple before succumbing to their combined weight and force. Couldn’t say what had happened to Booker.
After that, he hadn’t thought much else for a long time.
He was lying on his back, breathing stale, hot air and looking up at some sort of grid of tiny lights. Wincing, Kai sat up, whole body throbbing. His head felt like a bucket of rocks. He gave his eyes a moment to adjust in the near-total darkness. The small lights weren’t actually lights but holes punched into a roof, like air holes poked into a shoebox. In fact, he was in a box. A shipping container, by the looks of it. The faint, hot sunlight shone down from the ceiling and through more holes punched high in the walls, revealing a long rectangular corridor of sturdy metal. A large door stood closed at the far end.
Kai got to his feet, carefully testing each leg in turn. Neither seemed to be broken, though his right knee felt like it had been twisted in a really unpleasant direction. He kept a hand on one wall as he hobbled towards the door, the metal warm beneath his skin. He pressed against the doors without a shred of hope and felt it refuse to budge. His wristband was gone and his holster was empty, of course, so he wouldn’t be shooting through the lock. Not that that ever really worked.
A prison, then. He hadn’t really expected anything else.
Kai turned slowly on the spot. There wasn’t much to see. The container was entirely empty, not even a bucket to shit in or eat out of. He had no idea how long he’d been out of it, but the thickness of his tongue and the fuzzy throbbing of his skull told him he was dangerously dehydrated. The thought didn’t bother him too much. If they had wanted to kill him, they wouldn’t have bothered hauling him into this box. The wait wouldn’t be pleasant, but water would come.
In the meantime, Kai took stock of the rest of his body. His ribs were bruised, his tongue felt like he’d chewed on it, and he was missing at least one tooth. He felt his face and found his lip split, the flesh around one eye puffy and swollen. Other than that, however, he was mostly functional. Nothing felt broken. Sometimes even he was impressed by the beatings he could take.
God. That smell, though. It wasn’t going away, and actually seemed to be getting worse. Briefly Kai wondered if he’d shit himself while he was out. A quick pat check showed that there, at least, he’d preserved some dignity. So where the hell was that stench coming from? Had they shipped animals in this crate at some point? It was everywhere, in his nose and mouth – and also weirdly familiar.
Ignoring it for the moment, Kai began softly rapping a knuckle on the walls of his prison. The echo on his right side suggested that there was nothing but open space behind the wall; to his left, however, there seemed to be another solid structure. Maybe a second shipping container. He pressed his face close to the warm metal, almost coughing -- the smell was stronger here, wafting through the holes -- and said, “Rick?”
There was no answer, but his voice had come out as little more than a thin wheeze. Swallowing dryly, he tried again: “Rick!” A bit stronger this time, but still no response.
Rick’s not out there, he decided. What that meant, he couldn’t say – not yet. Maybe Rick had gotten away from the rebels, maybe not. They were separated, that was all he knew.
So there was his first goal: Get out and find Rick. It gave shape and focus to his situation. Now all he had to do was figure out a way forward.
As he moved to sit his knee twinged and he lost balance, stumbling. His shoulder hit the left wall hard, creating a resounding gong-like sound that vibrated through the shipping container. He stumbled down to one knee, catching himself before he could break his teeth on the floor.
In the same instant he heard something to his left. Something big, moving around just outside the container. There was a dry rasping like sandpaper dragged over metal, accompanied by a few heavy, ponderous thuds that could only
have been footfalls. Along with those came an odd series of sharp clicks, like nails on a hard surface.
Kai sat quite still where he had fallen, listening. The thing was moving slowly, almost as if he had woken it up from a nap. He could feel it moving, its weight rocking the shipping container slightly, and could almost picture it circling cat-like to find a comfortable spot. After a few seconds it seemed to settle down. There was a second of silence, and then a weird, guttural chirping sound.
Kai felt his heart pound as he waited. His neighbor, whatever it was, didn’t move again or make another sound. But now that he was paying attention he could hear it breathing, a heavy, measured intake of air, then a slow, rattling exhalation. Asleep.
That smell. Thick in the air, like shit and bad eggs. In a burst of revelation Kai knew what it was. He’d smelled it before, a long time ago. After he and Rick got out of Houston and started making their way north, east, anywhere but the CDZ.
One of their first stops – their first legitimate job, and nearly their last – had been a chicken farm in Oklahoma. Its hundreds of squawking, clucking, chirping inhabitants had smelled just as bad as Kai’s sole neighbor did now.
* * *
Estelle wasn’t sure how long she had been sitting in the dark. It could have been hours or minutes. She wasn’t even sure how long ago she had been snatched in Axum. All she knew was that, for a time, she had just sort of stopped thinking. About anything.
That time was over, apparently, because now her mind was forcing her to confront her situation. She was sitting in near-pitch blackness, the only light coming from a few small holes overhead. They had thrown her in here, she remembered now, pulling the hood off her head just before slamming the door shut behind her so that she went from one smothering darkness to another.
It was very hot. She could feel the heat emanating from the walls, as if she were sitting in an oven. Her jacket was gone; her blouse was soaked with sweat and she could barely swallow for how dry her mouth was. All at once the only thing she could think about was water.
Estelle struggled up onto rubbery legs, wincing at the pain in her wrists where the zip-ties had rubbed bloody bracelets into her skin, and shuffled towards what she thought was the door to this prison or box or whatever it was. She raised a hand to knock and was dimly terrified by how feeble her muscles felt.
“Hello?” she croaked. “Is -- is anyone out there? Can I have some water?”
Nobody answered. She listened. Distantly she could hear voices, even laughter, so she knew she wasn’t completely alone. Thinking maybe the theoretical guard on the other side of this door couldn’t understand English, Estelle made to open the translation app on her glasses -- then realized her glasses were gone.
Somehow that made the situation ten times worse. Suddenly Estelle felt naked and exposed, and a fist of panic tightened around her. “Please! I need to talk to someone!” Shouting hurt her throat, but she couldn’t stop. “Anyone! Hello --!”
Someone pounded against the other side of the door, a rapid staccato of angry blows. A voice shouted at her, sounding just as angry, and Estelle fell backwards from the door, landing hard enough to make little lights flash in the darkness. The voice continued to jabber for a few more seconds, then fell silent. Estelle could hear footsteps moving away. Crazily, she wanted to plead with them to come back, just so she would know she wasn’t alone in this stifling darkness.
Before she could open her mouth to speak, however, a voice spoke, much softer. “Estelle?”
It seemed to be coming from her right. She whirled towards it, scrabbling over to the wall and pressing her cheek against it. The metal was almost too hot to touch. “Hello?” she whispered.
“Estelle,” the voice said again, more firmly. The relief in it was mirrored by her own.
“Booker! Oh, thank God.” She slumped against the wall. “I thought I was the only one here. I thought you’d all been killed or-or…”
“Just a little beat-up,” Booker said, in the same tone he’d used to try and get her out of a bad mood when they had been dating. “Are you ok?”
Estelle took stock. Except for what felt like the early stages of dehydration and a few bruises… “I’m alright, I think. I’d kill for some water.”
“Me too.” He paused. “I think they’re trying to dry us out. Weaken us.”
“For what?”
Another pause. “Interrogation, maybe. Or maybe just to keep us from making trouble. Do you know what happened to the others?”
She didn’t answer right away. Interrogation. The thought brought a new surge of terror, but also made her recall those last few moments at the Ark sanctuary. The woman who had spoken to Estelle, demanding to know where the Ark had gone. Why had she thought Estelle would know?
“Estelle?”
“I’m here, sorry. No, I don’t know where anyone else is. They put hoods on us and…and I sort of lost track of things.” She took a breath. “Booker. Do you think they’re going to kill us?”
“No,” he said at once. “If they just wanted us dead, they would have done it back in the city. We’re too valuable. They’ll try to ransom us.”
Estelle surprised herself with a hoarse laugh. “If that’s supposed to make me feel better…”
“It means they’ll open a dialog with the Ethiopian government, and eventually the United States. After that, it’ll only be a matter of time --”
There was an odd explosive sound from somewhere overhead, and then a third voice drawled, “She’s an adult woman, Hopkins. At least be straight with her.”
“Álvarez?” Booker said. “That you?”
“Unfortunately,” came Rick’s voice. He must have been in a box stacked atop hers.
“How long have you been up there?” Estelle asked.
“Dunno. They took my wristband. Tracked the movements of the sun through the air holes, until I realized I have no idea how to translate that into time. So…” She could almost hear his shrug. “Heard them chuck you in, though. Not too long after me.”
Estelle felt a flash of anger that was almost refreshing. “You mean you’ve been up there, listening to me scream my head off, and you didn’t say anything?”
“Well, it sounded like you were having a private moment.”
“You’re an asshole.”
“Won’t argue that.” There was something different about his voice. It was thicker -- Estelle entertained herself with images of his nose being broken -- but also duller. Emptier. As if some spark had gone out of him.
“I don’t suppose you know where Berhanu is?” Estelle asked.
“In a box like us, probably.”
“I’m sure he’s fine,” Booker told her quickly. “Like I said, they won’t hurt any of us if they think they can get a ransom --”
Rick snorted audibly, that same explosive sound. “And how has that gone in the past? Remind me, because I’m drawing a blank on all the times our side successfully negotiated with terrorists.”
“You’re missing the point.” Booker lowered his voice. “The negotiating is a stalling tactic. It’ll give our side time to find us.”
“Does anyone even know we’re here?” Estelle asked.
“Nasim al-Faradi does. It’s been days since she heard from you. She has to be getting worried by now.”
Estelle nodded, latching onto the logic of that and the hope that it offered. Nasim would know. She’d send someone, call someone. Help would come.
Assuming they survived that long.
“Fair enough,” Rick said. “You’ve overlooked one fatal flaw, though.”
“What?”
“The government doesn’t give a shit about us.”
Estelle heard Booker sigh. “Spare me. I’ve heard the woe-is-me bullshit from too many of your kind.”
“My kind? Ouch.”
“Shut up.”
“Seriously. You know why my kind always spouts the same rhetoric? It’s because your kind doesn’t fucking care. They don’t even care enough to
clean up the messes in their own backyard. You really think they’re going to bother with us? Fine, maybe they’ll come for you. Put too much money into those suits you’ve undoubtedly got hanging in your closet. But me and Kai? We’re expendable. Acceptable casualties.”
“Look, will you two stop bickering?” Estelle hissed. “Getting out of here is going to be a lot harder if we can’t even work together.”
“Getting out?” Rick said. “How exactly do you think we’ll manage that? You able to chew through metal down there?”
She forced herself to take a calming breath. “No. But you’re the professional thief. This is your element, isn’t it?”
“As a rule, I try to avoid being captured.”
“But you must have escaped situations like this before. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? Because you’re the best in the business?”
She winced. The flattery sounded awfully thick to her, but there was a note of fatalism in Rick’s voice that she didn’t like. It wasn’t that she particularly cared about his mental wellbeing right now. It was just that, as far as she could see, Rick and Kai were their best hope for some sort of plan. Unless they wanted to wait around for Booker’s hypothetical rescue. Which she wasn’t at all certain would get here soon enough to save them.
“Even the best screw up,” Rick said, after a long pause.
“But you’ve survived --”
“Drop it, Estelle,” Booker said. “Let the man pout if he wants. Any plan of his is likely to get us killed, anyway. The best thing for us to do is just sit tight. Save our strength and wait for an opportunity.”
Estelle didn’t think she could take sitting in the dark and doing nothing. But, like it or not, they didn’t have any other choice right now. So she sat with her back against the wall, imagining Booker was doing the same on the opposite side, and waited.
Clouds of dust swirled in the golden columns of light that shone through the holes in the ceiling and walls. Estelle felt like her skin was coated in a fine layer of dust, her nose clogged. How much longer would it be before someone brought them water? Would they wait until they were all on the verge of death? Maybe Booker was wrong. Maybe this wasn’t some tactic to soften them up, but was simply a way to kill them without wasting bullets.
A Covenant of Thieves Page 35
