The Sacred Vault (20 page)

He brought it up - and saw a black smear across the heel of his palm, dirt from inside the duct. ‘Huh,’ he said, wiping it on his thigh. ‘Must have smudged something.’ A smile, hopefully not looking as forced as it felt. ‘Nina’ll kill me if I’ve made a mess of some hundred-year-old document.’

After a moment, the smile was returned. ‘I won’t say anything,’ Jablonsky joked. ‘Okay, I’ll see you out.’

Eddie returned to the security station and signed out, then walked down the corridor. As soon as he was out of sight, he increased his pace towards the elevators.

 

Back in the archive, Jablonsky returned to the vault. He looked up at the grille to see if the faulty ventilator was still sparking. It had stopped . . . but something wasn’t right. It took a moment for him to realise what: the grille wasn’t straight, its slats not parallel to the vent’s outer edges, as if it had been lifted through the hole and turned slightly to balance on its corners. What the hell?

He was about to climb on the desk to inspect it close up when he spotted something else: a dirty mark, right on the desk’s edge. It looked like part of a footprint . . .

Horrible realisation hit him. He jumped up on the desk and reached for the overhead vent. ‘Henri! I think—’

The grille dropped at his touch. Jablonsky pulled back in shock as the ventilation unit plunged downwards, jolting to a stop when its knotted power cable snapped tight. The entire duct shook, more objects dropping out of the open vent. An empty plastic container, some kind of suction cup . . .

Someone had been in the vault. And there was only one suspect.

‘Holy shit!’ he yelled. ‘Sound the alarm! Stop Chase from leaving the building!’

 

Eddie was in the lobby. Briefcase in hand, he headed for the exit. The security guards on duty had their usual expressions of bored politeness; at this time of night the building was quiet. Only a few more yards . . .

Someone’s walkie-talkie crackled, a frantic voice gabbling on the other end. A moment later, an alarm bell sounded.

Eddie was already moving. He shoulder-barged the door open before the security locks could slam into place and emerged on United Nations Plaza, sprinting for First Avenue. Shouts rose behind him as guards rushed out of the Secretariat Building in pursuit.

The entrances to United Nations Plaza were controlled by traffic barriers - and tall security gates. One was open, a car having just gone though. He ran for it as it closed. Another alarm sounded in the gatehouse. The men inside jumped to their feet.

Eddie hurdled the traffic barrier - and practically dived through the outer gate as it clanged shut just behind him. Stumbling, he crossed First Avenue, cars hooting as he weaved between them and ran like hell for 44th Street.

A look back. The UN guards were stuck behind their own barrier, waving furiously for someone in the gatehouse to reopen it. He reached the far sidewalk and darted round the corner, ahead seeing—

The crowd. It was much bigger than before, the ranks of the paparazzi swollen by a legion of young women. Online rumours had spread that the object of their affection was in the hotel - and was neither alone nor with his girlfriend.

Eddie also saw an NYPD car parked across the street, a cop leaning against it keeping an eye on events, but he ignored her and pushed through the crowd to the doors. The doorman recognised him from earlier, and let him inside.

Zec was where he had left him - and a brief glance confirmed that Mac was too, standing as he saw Eddie. The Scotsman made his way to the doors, crossing in front of his friend - and passing him something while Zec’s view was momentarily blocked. Eddie slipped the object into his pocket and sat beside the mercenary as Mac left the hotel.

‘Do you have it?’ Zec asked.

Eddie opened the case. The Talonor Codex gleamed inside. With a slightly disbelieving look, Zec raised the cover to confirm that it was genuine. Scribed metal sheets were revealed within.

‘What?’ said Eddie. ‘Don’t look so fucking shocked, I told you I’d get it. Now . . .’ He closed the case and lifted it on to his knees - then pulled Mac’s revolver from his pocket. ‘A trade’s a trade. You get this; I get Nina. Sound fair?’

Zec didn’t appear surprised that Eddie had acquired a gun. ‘She is with Mr Khoil in his plane.’

‘And where’s his plane?’

‘A private airport, upstate.’

‘Then take me to it. We need to get moving - I attracted some attention at the UN. The quicker I’m out of here, the better.’

‘Give me the case,’ said Zec. Eddie stared at him coldly. ‘You still have the gun. But I take the case.’ After a moment, Eddie passed it to him. ‘Good. Now, let’s go.’

They both stood. Eddie pocketed the gun and started towards the exit, Zec following - just as a man and a woman emerged from an elevator across the lobby. Seeing them through the glass doors, the crowd outside responded with excited cries and camera flashes.

Grant Thorn was the man - and Macy Sharif was his companion, both of them dressed to party . . . with a slightly dishevelled look that suggested they had just come from a private event of their own. Another man hurriedly stood and joined them; a bodyguard, muscles bulging beneath his dark suit. He opened a door for the couple, holding up a hand to wave back Eddie and Zec. ‘Let ’em through, let ’em through, please.’ Annoyed, Zec tried to push past, but Eddie stopped in front of him.

The star and the student stepped out on to the street to be greeted by strobes, shrieks and shouted questions from paparazzi and fans alike. ‘Grant, Grant!’ one photographer called. ‘Who’s the babe?’

‘Where’s Jessica?’ another demanded.

‘Which one?’ asked the snapper next to him.

‘Any of ’em!’ He fired his camera in the couple’s faces. Grant blinked, and Macy flinched back. ‘She know about this, huh?’

‘Grant, over here!’ someone else yelled. ‘It’s me, Sally! I was at the premiere of
Nitrous
, remember? You said you liked my hair!’ Hands were thrust over the shoulders of the front row, more cameraphones flashing. The paparazzi exchanged irritated looks at having their pitch invaded by amateurs and tried to shove them back, arousing shrill complaints from the crowd.

‘Come on, let ’em through!’ the bodyguard growled. The hotel staff moved to part the crowd so they could reach the limo that had just arrived.

‘Fuck this for a game of soldiers,’ said Eddie impatiently. He went through the door and barged into the throng, elbowing a photographer out of his way. The man staggered and knocked over a young woman, who shrieked.

Her friends pushed back. The crowd became a scrum, arms and legs flailing. Eddie forced his way between them, Zec right behind. The heavy briefcase bashed against shins and thighs.

Grant and Macy reached the limo, the bodyguard and doormen pushing people back so its door could be opened. A ripple surged through the crowd, another fan tripping with a scream. A photographer stumbled over her to the pavement, glass cracking in his lens.

Eddie stopped, path blocked. Zec pushed up behind him - and a man fell against the Bosnian, almost knocking him over. The briefcase jolted in his hand as something bashed against it and dropped to the ground. He looked down sharply, but the handle was still firmly in his grasp as the man struggled to recover his own fallen case. Zec raised an arm to swat him away.

‘Hey, hey!’ yelled a woman before he could make the swing. ‘NYPD - everyone, move back!’

Eddie squeezed past the policewoman as she shouted more orders, reaching the edge of the crowd. Zec emerged behind him, angrily tugging the case free of the crush. ‘Jesus,’ Eddie said as the limo pulled away. ‘Who’d be fucking famous if you have to put up with that all the time?’

‘Who was that?’ Zec said.

‘Grant Thorn.’ He got a blank look in return. ‘The film star?’

Zec shook his head. ‘I don’t watch movies. No realism any more.’

‘You’re a fun guy, aren’t you? Okay, I hope you’ve got a car. I’m not paying for a bloody cab all the way upstate.’

T
he drive took over an hour, Zec at the wheel with Eddie beside him, gun in hand. The briefcase sat on the back seat, untouched by either man during the journey.

They reached a private airfield, where a security guard waved them through the gate. A jet waited on the runway, armed men standing nearby. Eddie steeled himself as Zec stopped beside the plane. He might be shot the moment the Bosnian turned over the briefcase . . .

‘Get out,’ said Zec. Eddie stepped into the cold wind blowing across the runway. The jet’s hatch was open; a figure appeared at the top of the steps. Pramesh Khoil.

The guns of the men around the car were all now aimed at Eddie. Shrugging, he pocketed the revolver and advanced as Zec retrieved the case. ‘All right, Khoil,’ he called, ‘where’s Nina?’

The Indian ignored him. ‘Do you have it?’ he shouted to Zec. The mercenary nodded, holding up the briefcase. ‘Bring it to me.’

Eddie reached the steps. ‘Hey! I asked you a question. Is Nina in there?’

Zec pushed past him. Khoil backed up to let him into the aircraft, then looked contemptuously down at Eddie. ‘No, Mr Chase, she is not. She is still in India, and now no longer necessary. Like you.’ He gestured to his men. They advanced on the Englishman.

‘Just a sec,’ Eddie said, covering a surge of cold fear with cockiness. Khoil, who had been about to retreat into the cabin, paused. ‘You might want to check your merchandise.’

Khoil whipped round to face Zec, expression accusing. ‘It’s in the case,’ the mercenary protested. ‘I looked before we left New York. It never left my sight.’

‘Open it now,’ Khoil ordered. ‘Open it!’

Zec set the briefcase down and flicked the catches. Khoil shoved him aside and yanked it open. He stared at the contents for a long moment . . . then ran down the stairs. ‘Where is it?’ he almost screeched.

‘No idea,’ Eddie replied, truthfully. ‘A mate of mine’s got it, and I told him to put it somewhere I didn’t know about. Just to be safe.’ His expression hardened. ‘So. Where’s Nina?’

The shocked Zec emerged from the cabin, holding the case’s contents: several dumbbell weights fastened together with duct tape. ‘I - I don’t understand,’ he told Khoil. ‘The Codex was inside! How did he do it?’

‘Doesn’t really matter now, does it?’ said Eddie. ‘But I thought you’d try something like this, and as soon as I heard the satellite delay when I was talking to Nina I knew I was right. So I wanted some insurance.’ He leaned closer to Khoil. ‘The deal still stands. I get my wife back, and you get your book. But fuck with me, and it’ll be destroyed. Understand?’

Khoil’s lips were tight. ‘Come inside.’ He stalked back up the steps, almost barging Zec out of the way. Eddie followed, relieved to have survived his triple-cross.

The question now was: how desperately did Khoil want the Talonor Codex?

He entered the cabin, an armed guard following. Inside, another Indian man standing between him and Khoil gave him an unpleasant smile, exposing jagged teeth. ‘Is the Codex intact?’ the billionaire demanded. ‘Have you damaged it?’

‘Not yet,’ Eddie said. ‘I told you, I don’t give a shit about your book or what you want it for. All I want is Nina. If I get her back unharmed, you’ll get it the same way. Sound fair?’

‘Yes,’ Khoil hissed.

‘Great. Now I want to talk to her.’

Khoil went to one of the luxurious seats. Eddie expected him to pick up a phone, but instead he pushed a button, and a flatscreen monitor smoothly emerged from the chair’s arm. The blank black eye of a webcam was set into its bezel. A menu appeared; Khoil tapped an option, and an animated ‘Connecting . . .’ icon popped up.

After several seconds, the birdlike face of Vanita Khoil appeared. ‘Well?’ she said. ‘Do you have it?’

‘There has been a . . . complication,’ Khoil said. ‘Get Dr Wilde.’

‘What? Why do we still need her? We should have—’

‘
Get her
!’

Vanita’s eyes narrowed in clear anger at his outburst, but she looked off-camera and issued an order in Hindi. After a short wait, someone was pushed into frame behind her.

‘Ay up, love,’ said Eddie. ‘So how’s India?’

‘Eddie!’ Nina cried. ‘What’s going on?’

‘Well, I got the Codex—’

‘You did
what
?’ she gasped. ‘I
told
you not to give it to them - they’re going to kill us once they get it!’

‘Yeah, I know that - that’s why I
didn’t
give it to them, the bunch of backstabbing twats. Once you’re safe, then I’ll turn it over.’

‘You will not,’ she said firmly. ‘Whatever these two are planning, it’s not—’

‘Bite your tongue!’ snapped Vanita. ‘Pramesh, why is Chase still alive?’

‘He exchanged the real Codex for a dummy, without Zec even noticing.’ The Bosnian lowered his head, humiliated. ‘One of his friends has hidden it. If we do not let Dr Wilde go, he has threatened to destroy it.’

‘
What?
’ the outraged Nina yelped in the background.

‘Qexia will be able to identify all his friends,’ said Vanita, ignoring the interruption. ‘We can track them down—’

‘There isn’t time,’ Khoil cut in. ‘We can’t risk losing the Codex, not now. Make arrangements to have her sent back to America.’

Vanita looked silently into the camera for several seconds before replying. ‘No.’

Khoil was taken aback by her blunt refusal. ‘But if they destroy the Codex—’

‘They won’t.’ She leaned closer to the camera. ‘Chase. Give up the Codex, now, or your wife will suffer.’

‘Do anything to her and you’ll never get it,’ Eddie countered. The normally unemotional Khoil had been unable to conceal his genuine fear that the Codex might be lost. As Eddie hoped, he was desperate to get his hands on it.

But Vanita was more willing to gamble. She gave a sharp order to Tandon, who grabbed Nina.

‘Hey!’ Eddie shouted. ‘I’ll have the fucking thing melted down into home shopping channel jewellery if you do anything to her. You think I’m kidding?’

‘Do you think
I
am?’ Vanita replied. ‘Chapal!’

Tandon took something from a pocket. Before Nina could react his hand whipped up - and pulled a plastic bag tightly over her head. She struggled, trying to claw it from her face, but it was too thick to tear. He tugged harder, the bag tightening round her throat.

‘Let her go!’ Eddie shouted, lunging at Khoil. The shark-toothed man darted forward and slammed him against the curved fuselage. He fumbled for the revolver, but the guard pressed his gun’s muzzle hard against his cheek.

On the screen, Nina jabbed at Tandon with her elbows. But the martial artist was too quick, twisting out of the way of her blows.

‘Give us the Codex,’ said Vanita. ‘Or she dies.’

‘Fuck off!’ Eddie snarled. ‘If I give it to you, you’ll kill her anyway!’

Her lips curled at the insult. ‘But first, she will suffer. Over and over.’

Nina was now grasping uselessly at the plastic drawn tight over her mouth, face distorted and indistinct as her breath misted up the bag. Eddie watched helplessly. The only way to help her was to surrender the Codex - but that would condemn them both to death. Certainly if he was dealing with Vanita.

Which meant he had to deal with Khoil, find something the dispassionate, logical half of the partnership would respond to . . .

Nina’s muffled choking sounds became weaker, more desperate. Vanita’s gaze was cold, intense, waiting for him to break—

‘All right!’ he yelled. ‘I’ll give you the Codex!’

A thin smile of triumph spread across Vanita’s face. ‘Chapal,’ she said, waving a dismissive hand. Tandon released his hold. Nina staggered away from him, pulling frantically at the bag. It finally came free and she gasped for air.

The gun was withdrawn. ‘On one condition,’ Eddie added.

Vanita scowled, about to order the suffocation to resume, but Eddie had already turned to Khoil. ‘We’ve both got something the other one wants and isn’t willing to lose, but neither of us trusts the other not to fuck about, right?’

‘Crudely put,’ said Khoil, ‘but correct.’

‘Okay, so here’s my new offer. A straight swap. I bring the Codex, you bring Nina, and we make an exchange. Somewhere public with lots of people around. Soon as we’re done, that’s it - we go our separate ways. No tricks, no double-crosses. How does that sound?’

‘Unacceptable,’ Vanita said from the screen, but Khoil spoke over her: ‘Good - in principle. Where do you suggest?’

‘I don’t know yet. But . . .’ He decided to make at least the appearance of a concession in the hope of pacifying Vanita. ‘We’ll do it on your turf. I’ll come to India, and we’ll agree on a place once I’m there.’

Khoil mulled it over. ‘That is . . . acceptable,’ he said, with a glance at the image of his wife, who was clearly displeased in the extreme.

‘In Bangalore,’ she insisted. ‘The exchange will take place here in Bangalore.’

‘So long as I pick the spot,’ Eddie agreed reluctantly, sensing she was itching for an excuse to torture Nina again.

It seemed to work; Vanita said nothing. Khoil turned to Eddie. ‘You will fly back with me?’

Eddie half laughed. ‘I don’t fucking think so, mate. I’ll sort out my own flight. And I won’t be taking the Codex in my carry-on luggage, you can be sure of that. But,’ he went on, knowing what Khoil was about to say, ‘you’ll get to see it before I hand it over, so long as I see Nina at the same time. We both get what we want, and everyone’s happy. Do we have a deal?’

‘We have a deal.’

‘Good. Nina, are you okay?’

‘Oh, super fine,’ she croaked, rubbing her neck. ‘Eddie, don’t give it to them.’

‘Sorry, love, but I’ve got to. I know you’re going to be really pissed off about it, but you can rant and rave at me once you’re safe, okay? I’ll see you soon.’

Nina was about to say something else, but Vanita angrily terminated the video link. Khoil looked at the armed guard. ‘Escort Mr Chase off my plane.’

‘What, don’t I even get a hot towel? All right, I’m going,’ said Eddie as he was prodded with the gun. ‘Oh, one last thing.’ He jerked a thumb at Zec. ‘Tell laughing boy here to give me his car keys. I’m not walking all the way back to fucking Manhattan.’

Zec wasn’t happy, but handed them over under Khoil’s stern gaze. ‘How am I supposed to get back?’

‘That is not my concern,’ the Indian told him icily. ‘After your failure tonight, I will have to reconsider your continued employment.’

‘Don’t worry, mate,’ Eddie said, jingling the keys. ‘I’m sure someone with your talents’ll be able to find other work. I mean, New York always needs street sweepers.’ With that, he stepped out into the night.

 

‘Eddie!’ Lola cried as Eddie entered the room. ‘Are you all right?’

‘I’m fine,’ he said, seeing all the concerned faces anxiously awaiting news. They were in Matt’s Brooklyn apartment, the Australian joined not only by Karima, Rad and Lola, but also the members of ‘Plan B’: Grant and Macy, drawing a crowd with their ‘tryst’ to provide the necessary confusion; Amy Martin, on duty as an NYPD officer, to distract Zec at the crucial moment . . . and Mac, who had actually carried out the switch.

On a table was the now-empty briefcase, lid open to reveal the trick mechanism that made it possible. The high-power electromagnets provided by Matt, unsuited for their originally intended purpose, had found another use. The metal plate attaching the handle to the case had been unscrewed . . . as had that of the identical briefcase containing the weights. Only the magnets inside each case kept them firmly attached - until a radio-control circuit built by Matt was triggered by Mac as he ‘accidentally’ fell against Zec and banged the cases together in the scrum outside the hotel. The electromagnets inside the case containing the Codex shut off, causing it to drop away. A moment later, the magnets in Mac’s decoy case did the same - then reactivated once Mac’s hand was clear, snapping the dummy case back on to the handle Zec was gripping.

The entire exchange took under half a second, before Zec could recover from the collision. When Matt first suggested the idea, Eddie was extremely doubtful that it could work, but after dozens of practice runs they had made successful switches two times out of three.

Mac stood. ‘Thank God. What happened? Where’s Nina?’

‘She wasn’t there, just like I thought. But she’s safe, more or less . . . for now. Khoil agreed to another exchange. I’m going to India to make the swap.’

‘Do you really think he’ll play fair?’ Macy asked, concerned.

‘Not even for a second. Which is why I’m not going to either. But at least this time I’ll have more control over the situation.’

Mac raised an eyebrow. ‘Interesting how you think making the exchange on Khoil’s own turf counts as having more control.’

‘Well, that’s why I was hoping you’d give me some backup.’

‘If you need any more help from me, mate,’ offered Matt, ‘just ask.’

‘The same goes for us,’ said Karima. Rad nodded in agreement. Lola, Macy and Grant also piped up with offers of support.

Eddie shook his head. ‘Zec saw you. He’s not in Khoil’s good books right now, but that doesn’t mean he won’t have told him who was involved. If Khoil decides to keep him on and he recognised you, we’d be screwed.’

‘He might still recognise Mr McCrimmon from the hotel,’ Amy pointed out.

‘He only saw him for a moment, so we’ll have to chance it. But everyone else, he knows. So it’s just me and Mac.’

‘Thanks for that, Eddie,’ Mac said with a wry smile.

Objections rose from all quarters, but Eddie cut them off. ‘You’ve all been absolutely bloody fantastic,’ he said. ‘If I ever go in for a life of crime, I want you lot to be founder members of Eddie’s Eleven.’

‘I’m not hearing this,’ said Amy, pretending to put her fingers in her ears.

Eddie smiled, then became serious. ‘But like Mac said, we’re going to be on Khoil’s home turf. It’ll be a lot more dangerous. And I can’t ask you to take any more chances for me - hell, I won’t
let
you. Me and Mac are professionals, we’ve trained for this stuff. You haven’t. Sorry, but that’s the way it is.’