Raymond Khoury - The Sanctuary

The trail that had begun in that underground lab in Iraq had gone cold for more than three years. He’d changed countries and worked on several other assignments since then, but he’d kept a careful eye on that elusive ball, hoping that when a clue, a hint, something, popped up, he wouldn’t miss it. And now, his diligence and commitment that had paid off. With a bit of luck, maybe — just, maybe — the trail was warming up again.

Life turned on a dime. He’d been around long enough to know just how true that was.

He saw Mia standing by the window and headed over to the oak desk that sat in the far corner of the room. It was stacked with files, textbooks, and course materials. Corben was more interested in the laptop that sat to one side. As he unplugged it, he noticed Evelyn’s thick, weathered personal organizer. It was open to a two-page spread that encompassed that week. A slightly tattered, old-fashioned business card was lying on it. He picked it up. It was the card of some archaeologist out of Rhode Island. He used it to mark the page the organizer was open at, which he then closed and placed on top of the laptop. He’d want to go through that too.

He noticed an old jacket file under the organizer. Something about it drew his eye, and he pulled it out.

Its position on the desk suggested that Evelyn had been going through it just before leaving her apartment the night before. The first image, the woodcut of a snake-eater that leered out at him when he opened the file, sent a jolt of adrenaline through his veins.

The trail had suddenly heated up considerably. And right at that moment, a sudden outburst from Mia snuffed out his excitement with brutal efficiency.

“It’s them,” she blurted out, turning to Corben, her eyes alight with fear. “They’re here.”

Corben rushed over to the window and looked out. Mia was pointing out three men who were walking down the sidewalk, towards the entrance to the hotel. The blood had drained from her face.

“They’re already coming after me!” she exclaimed.

“They’re the guys you saw last night?”

Mia nodded. “The one in the middle’s the creep from the hotel bar. I think the one to his left was with him when they were chasing Mom downtown. I’m not sure about the last one.”

Corben took stock of the three men. His trained eye caught barely discernible hints in their body language that pegged the middle one, the one with the jet-black hair, as the gang’s leader. They moved fluidly along the narrow sidewalk one after the other, sliding discreet glances around the street, acutely aware of their surroundings. He scanned their bodies for signs of weapons, and even from the third-floor window, his practiced eye could make out a bulge under the lead man’s jacket.

Mia’s eyes were glued on them. “They’re just going to walk into the hotel and look for me? They can do that? In broad daylight?”

“They can if they have Internal Security IDs. Which they could well have. Every militia was given its own quota of agents. They could be tied to any one of them.” A more worrying scenario was playing itself out in his mind as he reached for his cell phone and punched a number on his speed dial.

He had a dozen or so local “contacts”—a sampling of ex — militia members mostly, who had their own “circles of trust,” as well as a few officers of the Lebanese military intelligence, past and present — that he could call for muscle, if and when he needed it. Each contact had his own sphere of influence and was useful in a specific area.

After two rings, a man’s voice answered.

“It’s Corben,” he announced flatly into the phone. “I need some backup at the Commodore. I’ve got three guys moving in, maybe more. They’re armed.” He looked out, then added, “Hang on.”

Corben and Mia stood there together in silence, watching the killers close in on the hotel. Corben’s muscles tightened. The moment of truth was seconds away.

Down below, the three men reached the hotel’s entrance.

They didn’t walk into it. They didn’t even look at it.

They just kept going, past a couple of parked cars, past Corben’s Grand Cherokee, and crossed the street.

His alternate scenario was right on the mark.

They were heading straight at them.

Mia watched the killers cross the street, and with a reeling horror she realized they were coming to Evelyn’s building. Her whole body seized up as she watched them disappear from view, hidden by the projecting balcony. She wasn’t about to step outside to monitor their progress. She turned to Corben.

“How did they know we were here?” she asked.

“I don’t think they’re here for you. It’s too soon for that. They’re here to search this apartment.” He pulled the phone back to his ear. “You need to get someone here quick. We’re in the apartment building right across the street from the hotel. Third floor. It’s Evelyn Bishop’s place. Hurry up, they’re just coming into it now,” he barked into it, before clicking it shut. He tucked Evelyn’s file firmly under his jacket and belt, in the small of his back, and grabbed Mia by the arm. “Come on,” he urged as he led her to the front door.

They hurried out onto the landing, only to come face-to-face with a woman who was stepping out from the neighboring apartment. The woman froze at the sight of two strangers rushing out of Evelyn’s apartment. She hesitated, then started to say something in Arabic, but Corben snapped at her abruptly, cutting her off. “Get back inside, lock the door, and stay clear from it. Do you understand?”

The woman’s eyes darted from him to Mia and back in alarmed confusion. “Do it now,” Corben ordered again, stepping forward and herding her back into her apartment. The woman nodded furtively and disappeared behind her front door, snapping its dead bolt into place as directed.

The elevator’s “in use” light went amber, followed by a loud click and the hum of the motor cranking up. The cabin was making its way down from the top floor to the lobby. The killers would soon be here.

Corben moved to the edge of the staircase, which was adjacent to the lift shaft, and listened for a quick beat. He stepped back, looked up the stairs, and grimaced. He didn’t like that option. Access to the roof could be locked. Neighbors could come into play. Too many unknowns.

“What?” Mia asked. “What do we do?”

“Inside.” He hurried her back into Evelyn’s flat.

Corben carefully closed the door and spun its dead bolt shut. He saw that Evelyn also had a chain lock and raised his hand to pop it in place, then thought better of it and left it alone. He knew it would give away that someone was in the apartment, which was the last thing he wanted.

He also knew he only had seconds to come up with a plan.

He shot a focused glance at the big sliding glass doors opening onto the balcony, and at the window, made his decision, and turned to Mia. “Shut those curtains. As tight as you can. I don’t want any light coming in. And shut the bedroom doors too.”

She did as ordered, plunging the living room into a suffocating darkness. As she did this, Corben had grabbed an armrest cover off the sofa and was going around the lamps and the chandelier in the living room, crushing the bulbs in his fingers with cold efficiency. He did the same to the lamp in the entrance hall.

Mia shut the bedroom doors and hurried back out to find Corben in the kitchen, rummaging through the drawers. He pulled out a couple of kitchen knives and checked their blades. He chose the one that seemed most solid among the lot and stowed it under his belt, to one side.

Mia watched him, stunned. “Please tell me you have a gun tucked away in an ankle holster or something,” she half-joked.