“Thank you,” she said.
“I will see you when you get here.” He disconnected the call.
George Renley stood for several moments, replaying the conversation in his head, then he picked up the phone again and dialed a number.
4 Renley Estate
Alyssa perked up in the plush leather seat as the silver Bentley approached the estate. The rolling English countryside with its treeless hilltops and old limestone farmhouses gave way to an ivy-covered stone wall and a winding path leading to the iron gates. The car pulled into the long driveway, flanked by rows of oaks crowned in rust and gold, swaying gently to the chilly autumn wind.
Alyssa chewed her bottom lip as she reflected on the past several hours. So far, Renley has delivered on his promise.
After the taxi dropped her off at the private terminal of the Cairo Airport, she was met and whisked away by a woman who had been waiting for her.
I suppose I was easy to pick out, rolling up in a cab among the Rolls-Royces and Bugattis.
Within an hour she was up in the air on a small private jet that Renley had chartered. She used the plane’s satellite phone to try to call her dad, but hadn’t been able to reach him. No better luck getting through to Kamal, either. She did reach Renley, but he told her only that his driver would meet her at the plane and bring her to his home.
The limousine rolled to a smooth stop at the top of the circular driveway. A thin, distinguished looking man stepped out from beneath a covered alcove. Though he looked to be in his early seventies, he strode briskly to the car. The chauffeur opened her door as the man reached the Bentley. He wore a starched Windsor-style shirt, a black suit, and a silk tie.
“Good afternoon, Miss Morgan,” the man said, offering a bow and white-gloved hand to help her out of her seat. He gazed kindly at Alyssa through a pair of round silver rimmed glasses that matched the gray in his hair. “My name is Jacques. I am Lord Renley’s majordomo. I trust you had a pleasant trip from Cairo?”
What’s a majordomo? she thought. “Uh, yes, thank you, Jacques,” she managed to reply as she took his hand and stepped out. Jacques reached for her backpack.
“I got it, thank you,” Alyssa said.
Jacques pulled back, the slightest look of surprise crossing his face before he nodded. “Of course, as you wish.”
Alyssa tried not to stare at the structure looming proudly before her. The mansion grew out of the manicured lawn like an infant castle. Moss and ivy clung to its pale gray walls. At its threshold stood an ornate marble fountain, the soft gurgling of the water resonating in the surrounding silence. They approached an entryway that was sheltered under a wide archway supported by stone pillars.
Jacques opened the tall oak door, decorated in thick brass, and Alyssa passed into an imposing entrance hall floored in polished marble. The twenty-foot ceiling was arched high, and the walls were decorated in French tapestries and large paintings. A wide, curving staircase wound to the second floor.
So this is how the top one percent of the one percent live.
“May I get you anything at all?” Jacques asked, closing the door behind them. “Would you care to freshen up?”
“No, thank you,” Alyssa replied. “I would like to see Lord Renley as soon as possible.”
“In that case, please follow me. Lord Renley is expecting you in the library.”
Alyssa followed Jacques through the marble-lined corridor, eyeing a painting.
Is that a Rembrandt?
Before she had any more time to ponder, they arrived at a wood-paneled door. Jacques slid it open and moved aside, bending slightly at the waist. Alyssa stepped through, and Jacques closed the door behind her.
The room was large and perfectly proportioned, with grand latticed windows overlooking the courtyard. Bookshelves lined the walls, floor to ceiling, interspersed with strips of dark oak paneling. A grandfather clock ticked on the right. Renley luxuriated in one of the two leather armchairs that were drawn up to the carved stone fireplace dominating the left wall.
He rose, putting aside the tablet he was holding. His salt-and-pepper hair was combed neatly back. He took off his reading glasses and slipped them inside his bespoke suit.
Of course he wears suits at home.
“Miss Morgan,” he said.
With no small pain, Alyssa screwed a hint of a smile onto her face. “Lord Renley,” she replied coolly.
Renley approached her. “I can only imagine the depth of your resentment for me and my despicable actions several months ago. I have no excuses for my conduct during our last encounter. I only hope that you will consider forgiving me and that, with time, we may be able to re-establish a relationship of trust between us.” He held out his hand.
Alyssa was taken aback. I guess that’s Renley-speak for “I’m sorry I was a bastard.” Well, it’s a start.
“Thank you,” she replied, a bit less cool, and accepted his hand. “But you know I have not come here to hear your apology.”
“Indeed. And I promise that I shall share with you everything I know. Perhaps you would care to discuss it over dinner?” he asked.
Alyssa felt her stomach growling. She shed her coat and draped it over the chair. “I would like that.”
“I understand the past several weeks have been… challenging,” Renley said. “I took the liberty of inviting a familiar face in hopes of lifting your spirits.” He pointed behind her as the door opened. She turned—and stared into Paul’s grinning face.
Alyssa let the surprise freeze her for only an instant. She dashed up to him and threw her arms around his neck.
“What are you doing here?” she said, stepping back, staring at him. “What about Oxford?”
“I was granted a leave of absence to participate in field research.” He glanced at Renley. “It seems a well-regarded alumnus donor placed a call to the administration.”
She hugged him again, holding him tight. “I’ve missed you,” she said. She broke the embrace after some time.
Alyssa faced Renley. “Thank you,” she said.
“It is gratifying to see a smile on your face,” Renley replied. He cleared his throat. “Well, I shall leave you two to get reacquainted. Jacques will call on you to show you to your room shortly and summon you when dinner is served.” He gave the slightest of nods before leaving the room.
Alyssa turned to Paul and caught him stealing a glance.
“You look…” he struggled for the word, “older.” The pained expression on his face after the word came out of his mouth made her burst out laughing.
“I don’t see you for four months, and this is the best you can come up with? Where did you spend your time? Nerd charm school?”
“Something like that,” he said, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment.
Has it only been four months?
Alyssa eyed him up and down. His chestnut hair was longer, lankier across his forehead, and his face had grown leaner, making his cheekbones stand out and emphasizing his dark eyes even more. His shoulders were wider than she remembered, and his muscles rippled beneath his T-shirt as he slipped off his backpack and set it on a chair. He seemed more mature, harder.
She grinned and punched him playfully in the arm. “Geez, Paul. What have you been doing? Hitting the gym much between classes?”
He laughed self-consciously. “Well, after six weeks of physical therapy rehab, I got kind of used to the daily routine. I kept it up.” He reached out to her, touching her cheek gently. “How about you?” he asked. “How are you holding up?”
She shrugged, her somber mood threatening to break through the surface again.
“Hanging on,” she whispered, the expression on her face matching her thoughts.
He took her hand and led her to the plush leather sofa at the fireplace. He sank into it and pulled her beside him. They cozied up, facing the fire for several minutes, soaking in the heat and each other’s presence. The dance of the flames and warmth of Paul’s body next to hers went a long way
to beat back the hopelessness that had begun to set over Alyssa during the last couple of days.
“Talk to me, Ally,” Paul said.
Alyssa took a deep breath, searching for a place to start. “I’ve been having these dreams.” She shook her head. “I don’t even know if they are dreams. They seem so real. Just like… his memories. A couple of weeks ago I saw the night when his wife died and his son was taken.” Alyssa shivered, not at the cold, but at the feelings that stirred up inside her. “It felt so real. When I wake up from them, I don’t know what’s real anymore.” She felt burning behind her eyelids.
“You’ve been through so much. I’m not surprised—”
“That’s not all,” she continued. “I feel… like something is trying to break out. Like I’m losing control.” She swallowed, looking down, unable to hold his gaze. “After that dream, I… I almost killed somebody.”
“What?” Paul pulled back slightly, blinking.
She told him everything that had happened in the library in Prague. “All I could think of was Horus’s loss. I felt this… rage…” She trailed off, her stomach clenching at the memory.
Paul reached for her hand again and cradled it, his touch and the silence helping to ease her tension.
After several moments, he asked, “Have you been able to find out anything else about the Hybrids?”
Alyssa pressed her lips into a tight line, thinking about the months of dead-end leads.
“No,” she said, “but I haven’t given up. Much to my dad’s consternation.”
Paul cocked an eyebrow.
“If it were up to him, I’d be hiding under a rock,” she sighed.
“You can’t fault him for that,” Paul said. “Especially after what happened to your mom.”
“How about what’s happening to me now?” She pulled her hand back. “I’m not doing this because I’m bored, Paul. This isn’t some wild goose chase!” she said, a measure sharper than she had intended.
Paul drew back, startled. The look in his eyes deflated her instantly. Her shoulders sagged.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s just I’m really confused and scared… for my father, for me.” She dropped her head, lips trembling.
Paul reached out and lifted her chin. She saw the play of mixed emotions in the soft concern of his eyes and worried lines of his lips. He knew how important this was to her, but the fear for her was plain to read. He put his arms around her and tugged her close. A long stretch of silence followed, with each lost in their own thoughts.
A soft knock at the door drew them back.
Paul gently pushed her back and stood. He extended his hand and bowed. “Would the lady care to join me for dinner?”
“I would be delighted,” Alyssa said in her best impression of the Queen’s English and accepted his hand. “As long as the esteemed sir does not mind my bringing along a snooty chaperone.”
Two hours later, Alyssa watched Paul scoop off his last bite of the mouthwatering baklava while Renley sipped on his cognac. The pre-dinner catnap and hot shower went a long way to make her feel more like herself again. The scrumptious dinner didn’t hurt, either. She leaned back in her chair and tugged back the sleeves of the blue sweater dress that Jacques had delivered to her room, courtesy of her host. It seemed like Renley was going all out to make up for what had happened in Cairo last summer. Still, Alyssa couldn’t shake the feeling that he was keeping something from her. She took a sip of her water and eyed him, trying to read any hidden motives that might be hiding behind that stony façade.
It’ll take more than an apology and a cashmere dress to make me trust you again, old man. Still, it was a damn good apology—and the dress was the softest thing she’d ever owned. But still… She wiped her mouth with the cloth napkin.
“The dinner was marvelous,” she said. “Thank you again for your hospitality, Lord Renley.”
“It is my pleasure,” he smiled. “However, I am quite aware that you did not come here to sample the Renley estate cuisine, fine as it may be.”
Alyssa nodded, grateful for the opening. “Do you have any information about the break-in at the institute?”
“After receiving your call, I made some inquiries. It appears that your initial suspicion was correct. The Society may have had a role in the events.”
“I knew it!” Alyssa sat up in her chair.
“However,” Renley continued, “there is more. Apparently, the Society received information—and resources—from a third party that enabled them to carry out the attack.”
“A third party?” Paul asked.
“This is where the issue becomes somewhat abstruse,” Renley continued. “The individuals who may have been linked to this third party are unable to disclose any additional information.”
“Unable or unwilling?” Alyssa asked.
“They are dead,” Renley replied. “The woman you saw in the hospital was the last survivor of that group.”
“Do you know who she was?”
“Madame June Chen,” Renley said. “She was one of Hong Kong’s wealthiest individuals, with ties to most of the organized syndicates in that city. She was also rumored to be one of the largest antiquities collectors in that region, known to bend rules to obtain the objects of her desire.”
“A woman after your own heart,” Alyssa said, and regretted it almost instantly.
Renley’s only outward expression of disdain consisted of the slightest downturn of his mouth.
Sensing the tension, Paul jumped in. “So, what happened? Did their deal go bad?”
“Or were they double crossed?” Alyssa added, happy to move past her cheap shot.
“Either one of those two scenarios appear to be plausible, based on the limited information we have,” Renley replied.
“And no leads about this third party?” Paul asked.
“As of now, we seem to have exhausted our leads on this front.”
“What about the message on her phone? Valediction?” Alyssa asked. “It seemed to mean something to you.”
“Ah, yes,” Renley said. “The heart of the matter.”
“So, you know what it means?”
Renley took a sip of his cognac before answering. “Valediction,” he said, “or, more precisely, the Valediction is the name of a sea vessel. A large yacht, custom built for the use of the Society. It has served as their mobile headquarters for over a decade.”
“A Society yacht?” Paul asked.
“More a ship than a yacht, actually. It has been kept in international waters and is almost self-sufficient, with a large enough crew to cater to the needs of the members on board. It is being periodically refurnished with necessary supplies and crew rotations.”
Paul whistled. “Those smug bastards. What better place for the members to get together, away from prying eyes and the reach of law enforcement agencies. Just please don’t tell me it turns into a gigantic sub, like some Bond villain’s toy,” Paul said.
“No, nothing that exciting,” Renley replied. “Though it is rumored to have state-of-the-art defenses and surveillance measures.”
“Why Valediction?” Alyssa asked.
“In many ancient cultures, a rite of valediction, or parting, occurred when a young child left the comfort and safety of their home to venture on a journey of self-discovery. The child was only permitted to return after fulfilling a specific rite of passage, to be celebrated and accepted as a full-fledged member of their society. Those who dared to return prematurely or unsuccessfully were deemed unfit and were banished, or even killed.”
“That sounds barbaric,” Alyssa said.
“Survival of the fittest,” Paul mused. Alyssa shot him a sidelong glance. Paul raised his palms. “Hey, I’m not saying I agree with it, but seems a fitting motto for the Society.”
“Okay, so what does the message mean?” Alyssa asked.
“I cannot be certain,” Renley replied, “but it could be a call for the members to gather on the ship. A type of beacon call.”
<
br /> “How can you know?”
“I cannot. However, the ship was designed to provide a safe haven for its members, especially in times of crisis. Furthermore, it also serves as a secure offline repository for the Society’s documents and data. If there is any information about the third party, it would seem a logical starting point for their own investigation.”
Paul slapped his hand on the table. “Brilliant. That settles it then. We just have to infiltrate a ship that belongs to a powerful, dangerous, and, not to mention, looney group of people, steal information from a completely offline and totally secure data repositorium, oh, not be seen by the ultra-sophisticated surveillance and highly trained guards, and if we manage that, escape all the aforementioned minor inconveniences on the way out, and be home before supper. Good thing I brought my spandex tights and cape. When are we leaving?”
Alyssa looked at him intently. She chewed her lip, pondering his words.
Paul stared back at her. “I was kidding…” He shook his head, exasperated. “And I don’t really own spandex tights,” he added.
“Do you have any other suggestions?” she asked.
“No, I don’t, but I’m also not in a hurry to be caught by the Society—again. I don’t have very fond memories of my last time as their guest.” He rubbed his left arm for emphasis. “There’s no way we can sneak aboard that ship.”
Alyssa’s shoulders slumped, knowing he was right.
“There may be another option,” Renley said. “Pardon me.” He motioned Jacques over and whispered in his ear.
Jacques nodded.
“Ah, splendid. Please show him in,” Renley said.
Alyssa looked up at him expectantly as Jacques left the room.
“The Valediction is catered by an extensive crew,” Renley continued, unperturbed. “In the past, I have provided references to several of my staff to serve aboard. Since I believe my word still carries a certain weight, I may be able to create an opportunity for you to get aboard under the disguise of two new crew members.”
Daughter of Ra Page 5
