Clive Cussler - Pirate

Interesting. The Fargos were working from a flawed copy. He, however, was not, and he took out his phone and found the text from the expert that Charles Avery was using to decipher the map.

There was clearly a letter missing from the words, and he showed the corrected text to Nigel. “What about this?”

“You realize I’m not the only Old English expert in this country?”

“At the moment, you happen to be the most convenient. And the most expendable. So look closely before I decide to find your replacement.”

The man studied the text, then gave an exasperated sigh. “I’d say someone mistook an f for an s . It’s not wulshol . It’s wulfhol . As in wolf’s hole .”

“And the other?” he said, pointing to the word listed beneath it: wulsesheasod

“It should read wulfeshéafod , as in wolf’s head .”

“And what do you think they mean?”

“The den and head of a wolf, if I had to guess.”

“You’re sure?”

“Of course I’m not sure. You’d have to ask the person who wrote it.”

“That person’s dead. Which is what you’ll be if you—”

Alexandra stood. “You have what you need. We, however, haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

How was it he’d thought bringing her along was going to help him? “Tie him up. We don’t want him running off.”

“Wait,” Nigel said, trying to stand. Ivan and Jak were off the bed in an instant, pushing him back into the chair. Nigel struggled in vain as Jak held him, and Ivan tightened a new zip tie around his wrists. “You can’t keep me here.”

“As long as you cooperate, you stay alive. Which means you’re still needed.” He looked at Ivan. “Do not leave him unattended if you go out. There’s a perfectly good pub across the street. Bring something back.”

“And where are you going?” Alexandra asked.

“Picking up two more men to help. The Fargos are more of a problem than we’d anticipated. After that, back to my hotel. Your husband’s waiting for an update on the translation. I expect it’ll lead us to our next location, where our tour guide will be of use. Of course, you could call Charles.”

“I’d prefer he didn’t know I was here,” Alexandra icily replied.

“That’s what I thought.” He started for the door, then looked back at Nigel. “If he makes a sound, kill him. I’m sure we can always find another translator.”

“We are not killing anyone right now,” Alexandra said. “You realize there are guests right next to us?”

“Then kill them, too. Just don’t get caught.”

Alexandra followed Fisk from the room. “We need to talk,” she said, quickening her pace to keep up with him as he strode down the hallway.

He glanced back at her but didn’t stop. “Later. I’m in a hurry.”

A maid came around the corner, her attention on the ice bucket with champagne bottle that she was carrying. Fisk barreled into her, knocking the bucket and bottle from her grasp and sending the coat flying from his. He landed against a potted palm, nearly toppling it.

The poor girl’s eyes widened as he swore at her. “I’m so sorry, sir. I didn’t see you there.”

“Apparently,” he said as he bent down and swooped up his coat, then stormed off.

Alexandra followed through the lobby, but he stopped her at the door, turning toward her, his voice lowered so that only she could hear. “What part of ‘I’m in a hurry’ did you not get?”

“You’re not going to kill anybody,” she whispered. “Not here. The room’s in my name.”

“You wanted to be part of this. That means you play by my rules. If and when I find it necessary to eliminate someone, I make that decision. Not you, not Jak or Ivan. Me. Do I make myself clear?”

Shaken by his anger, she nodded, then walked back through the lobby and down the hallway, where the maid was down on the floor, picking up ice cubes from the carpet and dumping them into the bucket.

The young woman looked up at her, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, as she apologized. “I didn’t see him.”

“It’s not your fault,” Alexandra said, feeling sorry for her. She started to reach for the champagne bottle that had rolled into the corner by the potted palm. When she bent down to pick it up, she noticed something in the base of the potted palm. The cipher wheel.

She left the bottle where it was. “Let me help,” she said as she started scooping some of the ice into a small pile near the palm. “It really was our fault. We were arguing and didn’t see you.”

“No. You shouldn’t trouble yourself. I’ll clean this.”

Alexandra moved in front of the palm, blocking the maid’s view. She shoved the wheel into the dirt and covered it, then picked up the champagne bottle, holding it toward the maid.

“Thank you,” the girl said, taking the bottle from her as Fisk rounded the corner.

He stopped, appearing surprised to see Alexandra and the maid still there.

“Forget something?” Alexandra asked.

“Dropped something.” He walked around them, his gaze on the floor.

When he reached the palm, pulling back the fronds to look behind it, Alexandra tried to keep her breathing even.

He looked up at her. “You didn’t find anything here, did you?”

“No. What is it you’re looking for?”

“Maybe it’s in the room,” he said, then strode that way.

Alexandra smiled at the maid, worried about her safety if she happened to walk past their room at the wrong moment. “Whoever opens this is going to have quite a surprise. Have you ever seen a champagne bottle that’s been dropped?”

“I didn’t think of that. I should change it out.”

She left, and Alexandra returned to the room in time to see Fisk searching under the bed. “Maybe if you told us what you lost, we might be able to help look.”

He dropped the bedspread, then stood, looking her over, his gaze lingering on the pockets of her light jacket — making her grateful she’d left the thing in the palm pot. “Maybe it’s in the car,” he said.

“And if you can’t find whatever it is?”

“Doesn’t matter.” He took one last look around the room. “I have photos.”

She glanced over at Nigel. The poor guy was trying to loosen the zip tie binding his wrists, and she wanted to tell him to just stop. They’d kill him in a second if he tried to escape. Which reminded her exactly of what she wanted to talk to Fisk about.

She followed him into the hallway again.

This time, he didn’t look back. “I told you, not now.”

“I got the message,” she said, deciding it wiser to avoid him altogether. “I’m going up front to get a menu from the pub across the street. Thanks to our uninvited guest, we’re going to need to get our meal to go.”

They turned the corner, and he slowed his pace, undoubtedly searching for that lost wheel. Her gaze lit on the disturbed potting soil in the palm. It seemed so obvious to her, and when he walked up to the plant, she froze as he moved the branches to look behind it.

The fronds rustled as he let them go, and he cursed softly under his breath as he continued out into the lobby. She made a right to the front desk and asked for a menu from the pub, looking it over as he left. When she saw his car drive off, she returned to the hallway, dug her fingers into the potting soil, and pulled out the cipher wheel. She brushed it off, stuffed it into her pocket, then hurried to her own room, where she hid it in the lining of her suitcase.

She had no idea what she was going to do with it. She only knew that if the thing was so important that Fisk was carrying it with him, then she wanted it for herself.