James Rollins - Map of Bones

Alberto turned his head. “Now, why is that? I’d like to hear all about what went down in that tomb. In great detail. Raoul has been good enough to supply digital snapshots, but I think a firsthand account would be of more value.”

Rachel kept silent.

Raoul’s fingers tightened on her arm. She winced.

Alberto waved Raoul away. “There’s no need for that.”

The pressure relented, but Raoul did not let go.

“You have the American for that, don’t you?” Alberto asked. “Maybe you’d better show her. We could all use a little fresh air, no?”

Raoul grinned.

Rachel felt a knot of terror tighten around her heart.

She was led out of the cabin and forced up the steps. As she climbed, Raoul reached and slid a palm up her robe, along her thigh, fingers kneading. She scrambled upward.

The stairs led to the open stern of the hydrofoil. Sunlight glared off the white decking. Three men lounged on side benches, casually carrying assault rifles.

They eyed her.

She cinched her robe tighter, shuddering, still feeling Raoul’s fingers on her. The large man climbed up, followed by Alberto.

She stepped around a short wall that separated the stairwell from the deck. She found Monk.

He was lying on his stomach, naked except for boxers, his wrists bound behind him and his legs hog-tied at the ankle. It looked like two of his fingers had been broken on his left hand, bent back at impossible angles. Blood smeared the deck. He opened one swollen eye when she stepped out.

He had no quip for her.

That scared her more than anything.

Raoul and his men must have taken their anger out on Monk, the only target.

“Untie his arms,” Raoul ordered. “Get him on his back.”

The men responded quickly. Monk groaned as his arms were freed. He was flipped onto his back. One of the guards held a rifle at Monk’s ear.

Raoul grabbed a fire-ax from a stanchion.

“What are you doing?” Rachel hurried to stand between the large man and Monk.

“That depends on you,” Raoul said. He hefted the ax to his shoulder.

One of the men responded to some discreet signal. Rachel’s elbows were grabbed and pinned behind her back. She was carted backward.

Raoul pointed his ax, one-armed, at the third man. “Sit on his chest, hold his left arm down at the elbow.” Raoul strode forward as the man obeyed. He glanced back to Rachel. “I believe the professore asked you a question.”

Alberto stepped forward. “And don’t leave out any details.”

Rachel was too horrified to respond.

“He has five fingers on this side,” Raoul added. “We’ll start with the broken ones. They’re not of much use anyway.” He raised the ax.

“No!” Rachel choked out.

“Don’t…” Monk groaned to her.

The guard with the rifle kicked Monk in the head.

“I’ll tell you!” Rachel blurted out.

She spoke rapidly, explaining all that had happened, from the discovery of Alexander’s body to the activation of the ancient batteries. She left out nothing, except for the truth. “It took us some time, but we solved the riddle…the map…the Seven Wonders…it all points back to the beginning. A complete circle. Back to Rome.”

Alberto’s eyes glowed with the telling, asking a few pertinent questions, nodding every now and then. “Yes, yes…”

Rachel finished. “That’s all we know.”

Alberto turned to Raoul. “She’s lying.”

“I thought so.” He swung the ax down.

RAOUL ENJOYED the woman’s scream.

He pulled his ax head from where it had embedded in the deck. He had missed the captive’s fingertips by the breadth of a hair. He yanked the ax to his shoulder and turned to the woman. Her face had paled to a shiny translucency.

“Next time, it’s for real,” he warned.

Dr. Alberto stepped forward. “Our large friend here was good enough to get an angled flash on that center pyramid. It shows a square hole in its surface. Something you failed to mention. And a sin of omission is as good as a lie. Is that not so, Raoul?”

He raised the ax. “Shall we try again?”

Alberto leaned closer to Rachel. “There’s no need for your friend to come to harm. I know something must have been taken from the tomb. It makes no sense to blindly point to Rome without an additional clue. What did you take from the pyramid?”

Tears rolled down her face.

Raoul read the tortured agony in every line of her face. He grew hard, remembering a few moments ago. Through a one-way mirror, he had spied as one of the captain’s bitches had fingered through all the woman’s private places. He had wanted to perform the body-cavity search himself, but the captain had refused. His boat, his rule. Raoul hadn’t pressed. The captain was in a sour enough mood upon learning of Seichan’s demise, lost with so many of Raoul’s men.

Besides, he would soon be performing his own private inspection of the woman…but he planned on being much less gentle.

“What was taken?” Alberto pressed.

Raoul widened his stance, hefting the ax higher over his head. His freshly sutured hand ached, but he ignored it. Maybe she wouldn’t tell…maybe this could be stretched out….

But the woman cracked. “A key…a gold key,” she whimpered, then sank to her knees on the deck. “Gray…Commander Pierce has it.”

Behind her tears, Raoul heard a trace of hope in her voice.

He knew a way to squash that.

He brought the ax down in a steady hard swing. The ax severed the man’s hand at the wrist.

"IT’S TIME to go,” Gray said.

He had given Vigor and Kat an additional forty-five minutes to call all the local hospitals and medical centers, even discreet calls to the municipal police. Maybe they had been injured, unable to contact them. Or they were cooling their heels in a jail cell.

Gray stood up as his sat-phone rang from his pack.

All eyes turned.

“Thank God,” Vigor gasped.

Only a handful of people had the phone’s number: Director Crowe and his teammates.

Gray grabbed his phone and swung up its antenna. He moved closer to the window. “Commander Pierce,” he said.

“I will keep this brief, so there’s no confusion.”

Gray stiffened. It was Raoul. That could only mean one thing…

“We have the woman and your teammate. You’ll do exactly as we say or we’ll be mailing their heads to Washington and Rome…after we’re done playing with their bodies, of course.”

“How do I know they’re still—?”

A shuffle sounded at the other end. A new voice gasped. He heard the tears behind the words. “They…I…they cut off Monk’s hand. He—”

The phone was taken away.

Gray tried not to react. Now was not the time. Still, his fingers clenched hard to the phone. His heart climbed into his throat, constricting his words.

“What do you want?”

“The gold key from the tomb,” Raoul said.

So they knew about it. Gray understood why Rachel had revealed the secret. How could she not? She must have traded the information for Monk’s life. They were safe as long as the Court knew Gray retained the key. But that didn’t mean worse mutilations would not be performed if he didn’t cooperate. He remembered the condition of the tortured priests in Milan.

“You want a trade,” he said coldly.

“There is an EgyptAir flight leaving Alexandria at 2100 hours for Geneva, Switzerland. You will be on that flight. You alone. We will have false papers and tickets in a locker, so no computer searches will trace your flight.” Directions to the locker followed. “You will not contact your superiors…either in Washington or Rome. If you do, we’ll know. Is that understood?”