Barbara Silkstone - Wendy Darlin 03 - Cairo Caper (18 page)

Roger was standing outside the door. Together we walked the few steps back to the gathering.

Tatiana shot me an impatient look and then focused her attention on the assemblage. She clapped her hands drawing attention to the top of the narrow spiral staircase that lead to the upper deck.

“Mister Sloane Ranger,” she said as if announcing the Lord High Chancellor of Great Britain.

Sloane Ranger strutted down the stairs. He had changed from the outfit he wore in the temple shaft to a pale blue silk suit with a matching tie and a white shirt.

He stopped on the next to the bottom stair.

I noticed three red scratch marks coiled around his neck. Tatiana’s claws would leave those nasty welts. I figured them for an item.

“No need to thank me for your rescue. It is my pleasure. And now I wish to introduce you to my very special guest. A guest you won’t forget for the rest of your lives.”

I didn’t like the sound of that. Not even a little bit.

Chapter Thirty-two

Sloane Ranger applauded and then slowly spun a full circle until he faced us again. It was like watching the Joker in Batman.

“Mister Sergei Sputum,” Sloane Ranger bowed from the waist. “
You
are honored to make my acquaintance.”

“Damn,” Roger whispered. “I knew there was something off about him. Another Russian oligarch dabbling in black archaeology.”

“I will be your host for the remainder of your adventure. Kindly hand your guns to Tatiana for disposal.”

I cut him a
what-the-hell
glare. I thought this was a rescue.

“You’re not getting our weapons,” Roger said.

“Tyson?” Sputum snapped his fingers.

The bouncer pulled a Glock from his jacket and trained it on me. I was the tradeoff. Roger shrugged and passed his gun to Tatiana. Since he’d taken it from the Russian assassin on the boat it was probably headed back to its rightful owner. I felt much safer with it out of Roger’s possession as the archaeologist and a gun were not the best combination.

Petri handed his weapon to Tatiana. She removed the magazines and ejected the chambered rounds from both guns. She pushed a button by the dumbwaiter and the door slid open. She stashed the guns in the little freight elevator, pushed the button again, and the door closed.

The theme song from
Cheers
cut the air. Sloane Ranger, nee Sergei Sputum, reached in his pocket and pulled out an iPhone. He glanced at the screen. “Now everybody knows my name.” He took the call.

“Sputum.” He listened then cursed in Russian. “I owe you nothing. You neither killed nor captured Roger Jolley. You’re fired. Find your own way out of the accursed swarm.”

He bared his teeth as he continued to listen. “Read the small print in your contract. Our agreement is void without severance or rescue.”

I was pretty sure he was sacking the Dark Force.

Sputum’s face turned red and then blue as he spit out his words. “Revenge?
Wanda
is fully armed with banana rockets. If you attempt to retaliate I will send you back to your grandmother’s womb.” He clicked off, pocketed his phone, and shrugged. “I’m downsizing.”

Sputum looked us over as if taking inventory. He cut his eyes to Tickemoff. “Speaking of downsizing. Tyson! We have trash to dump. Open
Wanda’s
door.”

I cringed as Sputum moved with the speed of a cheetah honing in on prey. He grabbed Tickemoff by the neck and shoved him to the top of the boarding stairs just as the door partially opened.

“You stink of rats. I hate rats!”

“Wait! Good sir! I will make you a deal you cannot refuse!” Tickemoff was frantic.

“Do I look like I need a deal?”

Tickemoff tumbled head over galabia. Sputum sadistically held onto the Tick’s neck instead of releasing him. Both men fell into the stairwell and almost out the door.

Tickemoff elbowed Sputum with his left arm and clutched the exit pole with his right. He struggled to bring his sandaled feet onto the platform.

“Get your paws off our friend!” I yelled. Ashtray-less, I had to use what I had on hand. I jumped into the stairwell in front of the Russian and performed a Three Stooges eye-poke… to no avail. Roger yanked on the Tick’s robes providing him with a little leverage. I was sandwiched between the stairwell wall and Sputum.

Petri slipped behind Sputum and pried his fingers from Tickemoff’s neck. He fell to the lowest stair and grappled for the handrail as a herd of locust dive-bombed the open door.

I had Sputum’s eyeball juice on my fingers. Ick.

He smacked me and I fell to my knees in front of him, which put me in a hell of an awkward position.

Roger inserted himself between us. He had the nerve to yell at me. “Damnit Wendy! Get out of here. I have this under control.”

Yeah, right.

Tickemoff grabbed my sneaker ankle and fought to bring the lower half of his body
back
onto the platform but instead he kept slipping off.

I eyed Tyson in time to see him grab Roger from behind in a fierce bear hug. The six of us were locked in an ugly football mash-up in three square feet of space, up close and personal.

Sputum swung a tight right-hook that dropped Petri like a sack of potatoes. Once the Frenchman was down the Russian kicked him in the stomach.

I spotted Fiona crawling along the overhead luggage rack coming our way at a wobbly but determined pace. She let out a Tarzan yell as she dropped onto the back of Sputum’s neck. She wrapped her legs around him and beat on his head. I wondered if she learned that trick on the Discovery Channel.

She pummeled Sputum’s head. “Nobody hurts Petri!”

The Russian reached back and grabbed Fiona by the arm. He flung her across the bus with a wallop. Her jaw caught the edge of a glass table and she crumbled in a heap on the floor blood pouring from her chin.

“That’s a bingo!” Sputum crowed.

I grabbed a napkin, raced to her side, and pressed it against her bleeding jaw shielding her face from Roger. This was not a good time for him to pass out.

Tatiana leaned against the bar admiring her fingernails. Maybe her contract with Sputum didn’t include bar room brawls.

Tickemoff grabbed the exit pole and paddled his feet in a desperate attempt to right himself. Sputum delivered a kick knocking him backward. The Tick grabbed the door yanking the rubber gasket loose. He swung free from the bus suspended only by his grip on the gasket.

I had to help Roger and Tick. I saw Petri limping toward Fiona and me, clutching his stomach. I left the bloody napkin on her face and raced to Roger’s aid.

Tyson was crushing him in a bear hug. I imagined the sound of bones breaking. My fist assault on the bouncer would have the impact of beating a boulder with a feather. Where did the bouncer keep his Achilles heel?

I jumped on his back and bit his ear. Tyson howled and dropped Roger to the floor. He clutched his lobe with one hand and fumbled in his pocket with the other.

The taste of earwax lingered like the god-awful syrup that came in wax candy bottles. I spit, spit, spit as I ran at Sputum, planning on going low and taking him out with a well-placed
Kill Bill
kick.

He held onto the handrail and levered himself aside, like a matador letting El Toro pass. I shot by him and slid down the stairs, heading for the open door and the locusts.

Chapter Thirty-three

I was on a head-to-head course with Tickemoff. If I hit him, we’d both fly past the door into the locust rodeo. I spread my arms, grabbing for what I could. My left hand hit the exit pole. I clamped on, harder than I’d ever squeezed anything in my life. I spun around it like a kid at the playground. I thought my arm would come out of its socket but I held on. I grabbed the pole with my other hand and braked my quaking body to a stop.

Tickemoff clung to the flapping rubber gasket. I held on to the exit pole and extended a hand to Tick. He grabbed it and got one foot onto the lowest step. Now I felt like both arms were coming out of their sockets. He almost got his second foot onto the step when Sputum jumped past me and kicked him in the face.

My heart felt like it had been kicked also when Tick’s hand went slack and he lost his grip on me and the gasket. He fell out the door onto the sand and disappeared in a cloud of locust.

Tyson was standing right behind Sputum. He punched a button on his iPod control and before I could knock the gadget out of his hand the bus door closed with a whoosh.

Sputum wrangled a black gun from his shoulder holster and aimed it at me. Tyson dropped the iPod control in his pocket and drew his gun. Wow, a gun at my back and a gun at my front, I had no room to dodge. If I ducked in a timely manner would Tyson and Sputum shoot each other? It always worked in Looney Tunes.

Roger grabbed the barrel of Sputum’s gun and pulled it down. It went off blowing a small hole in the step barely missing my foot. The gun barrel sprung up and hit Roger just above his eye leaving a nasty gash. Momentarily stunned he backed off.

“I will send you a bill for the damage to my
Wanda.
Now, your cooperation, please.” Sputum extended his left hand. “The Multi-phasic Unidirectional Density Diviner now or you watch each other die. Perhaps the ninotchka should be the first?” He aimed at Fiona.

“Pick on somebody your own size,” I said. It was probably wise not to let the jerk know Roger had dropped the MUDD into the embalming pool. As long as we had something Sputum wanted we could bargain.

I batted my eyelashes at Sputum and ran my tongue over my lips. These were the actions of a desperate woman trying to buy time.

He appeared to take my bait. “I could use a woman with your ashtray talents. Join me and see the world.”

I was buying time not job hunting. “I’ve had better offers on short sales.”

With a thud Roger fell to the stair. I noticed the blood from the cut on his brow had made its way to his eye. I reached for him.

Sputum kicked my hand away. “You are lucky to be alive. You were all supposed to die in the temple. But now I have a better use for you. And if you and Doctor Jolley cooperate you may survive to tell the story to your children.”

Shit. I must really look preggers.

“You couldn’t have known where we were in the shafts. This is a super-secret mission.” I blotted the blood from Roger’s face with the edge of my skirt.

Sputum lifted his lip in an Elvis sneer. “Your mission was so not-secret. You’d be buried in a communal sarcophagus if not for that damn cat.”

“What damn cat?”

“It would be dead if I saw it.” He touched the scratches on his neck and pulled his collar up in a pointless attempt to hide the claw marks. “I followed you with the help of my assistant, Habib Jones. Unfortunately his loyalties were confused.”

“Where is Habib?”

Sputum turned on me with a hellish grin. “Double agents often have a short lifespan. So do archaeologists and their groupies.”

“I’m no groupie. I’m an assistant archaeologist and a licensed real estate broker. Did you hurt Habib?”

“Habib, who?” Sputum said.

Roger staggered to his feet. “The mission was not a success.”

I elbowed him to shut up.

“When you turn over the Multi-phasic Unidirectional Density Diviner and the Antony half of the medallion,
I
will make it a success.
I
will find the Cleopatra half and complete the medallion. Then
I
will possess the key to eternal love.”

“What could you possibly know about love? Short term or eternal?”

Loose lips sink ships and we were done for. Mister Honesty was about to sink us by giving up one of our bargaining chips.

“I don’t have the MUDD. It’s at the bottom of an embalming pool.”

Sputum sputtered. “You fool! Where’s the Antony medallion?”

“It’s in the pool along with Multi-phasic Unidirectional Density Diviner,” I lied and gave up the other chip before Roger could blabber the truth. He’d be forced at gunpoint to give up the medallion. Now we had no bargaining chips but we still had the medallion.

“I could kill you, right now!” Sputum bellowed as he waved his gun back and forth between Roger and me.

“We’re the only ones who can find the embalming pool.” I said bracing to duck a bullet. “It takes the two of us.” I glanced and Fiona and Petri. “Plus them.” I was getting good at lying.

Roger cut me a quizzical glance.

Sputum pulled himself together. “I don’t want to know how you managed to lose both the diviner and the medallion. You must be dumber than you look. But this may work out for the best. We will return to the temple and then to the shaft. You will find both halves of the medallion or die. Meantime, dinner is at eight.”

“Tie them up.” Sputum told Tyson.

“What’s this about dinner?” Roger asked eyeing Sputum then me. “How are we going to eat if we’re tied up? Did I miss something?”

“I have my own tracking device on Horus. I know the falcon was accidentally dispatched to your employer Sir Sydney signaling the success of your mission. He’ll struggle through the locusts to get here for what he thinks is a celebratory dinner with Doctor Roger Jolley. He expects to relieve you of the medallion supposedly on behalf of the museum.”

“Supposedly?” I said.

“Sir Sydney has been conducting a little side venture. Creating a bidding war between Alexander Dorkovsky and yours truly. He must think I’m quite the fool to go blindly into negotiations with him without doing my homework, as you Americans say.”

Roger and I exchanged glances. I could see disillusionment on his face. He trusted the museum director. We both glanced at Petri. His innocence of the scheme was clear. His mouth dropped open and his eyes spun like cartoon whirly-gigs.

“Sir Sydney will eat his heart out when he discovers there is not a complete medallion. And then he will die a painful death as per my original plan.”

Sputum grinned. I imagined hearing him
muahahaha
as he surveyed our misery. Two of our team members were bloodied, the Frenchman was stunned, and I was gnarling my teeth from frustration. No ashtrays, no plan, but I did have six wooden matches in the pocket of my jacket. Sputum had said something about banana rockets. How do you light a banana rocket?