The Thieves of Darkness (40 page)

“I’m pretty sure I found them,” Busch said as he stepped aside to reveal another vault door, this one with a traditional flywheel in its center. Its brushed-steel exterior was made all the more stark by the surrounding warm dark wood walls and Persian carpets. There were
no computers on this one, no reliance on modern electronics. The door was a Sands-Meanne, an old-fashioned mechanical door that dated to the 1920s.

Michael pounded on the steel as hard as he could.

He waited a moment before pounding again. “Cindy, can you hear me?”

Michael and Busch waited, the moment hanging in the air.

“Michael.” Cindy’s voice was barely audible through the thick metal door.

“Is Simon with you?”

“He’s in bad shape, Michael, you have to hurry.”

KC walked across the grand courtyard of the Blue Mosque, the grass recently cut, the hedges thick and lush. Her heart pounded in her chest; she could practically hear her own pulse. Except for the night he’d caught her and Simon in Amsterdam, she hadn’t seen Iblis in ten years. He hadn’t said a word during their brief encounter in the Netherlands but there would be words now. Her mind was a mixture of fear and anger at the man who formed her, who molded her into what she needed to be at the time. She wondered if he knew it was like starting an addict with free heroin. He had hooked her, and in so doing, made her what she was today.

Iblis had been like her family, like an older brother, and at times he was even like a father. She had found herself actually fantasizing about him as her father on more than one occasion when she was young. He was the only one to care about her and Cindy, the only one who came to their rescue, in a Dickensian kind of way.

But as time wore on and she started to learn about his true methods, about his penchant for blood, disregard for life, and disdain for anyone who did not serve his purpose, she began to regret her paternal fantasies, horrified that she had looked up to a man who killed without remorse.

And despite the illusion that he cared for her, despite the history
they shared, he was holding Cindy and Simon for ransom. Simon was a man who knew the risk, who had faced danger and death many times throughout his life, risks he brought upon himself. But Cindy … she was innocent. Not only in her lack of knowledge about Iblis’s and KC’s less-than-legal careers, but in the traditional sense of the word. She had no horse in this race; she couldn’t affect her salvation or demise. She was but a pawn in a game between KC and Iblis.

The crowd around the Blue Mosque was thick with tourists who respectfully made way for convening worshippers arriving with the calls from the minarets for their midday
dhurh
prayers. KC had lost sight of Iblis when she re-entered the Kiritz Hotel and made her way down to the street, but knew she would find him. This was the one meeting in life he would never miss.

She took her time exiting the building, walking up the street and through the mosque’s courtyard. Though she had seen Iblis from the rooftop and he had seen her, she was in no rush to arrive at his side. She would do everything she could to give Michael and Busch as much time as possible to pull Cindy and Simon out of Iblis’s house. She walked with purpose, not too slow, not tipping her hand that she was stalling, but she would draw out her arrival as much as she could. She held tight to the leather tube that was strung over her shoulder. It was all part of Michael’s plan, but as is the case with mice and men, even the best laid plans have a tendency to take unexpected detours. She prayed to God that Michael was already successful and away.

“Taking in the sights?”

KC turned and came face to face with Iblis. She looked down at the man. His flawless skin hadn’t aged in the ten years since they had parted ways; the eyes she had thought of as caring in her youth frightened her now in their blue opaqueness. Dressed in his white linen shirt, with his black hair and tan skin, he looked every bit the local, but she knew the man was anything but what he appeared.

“I half expected to see you with a gun in your hand.” Iblis smiled.

“How dare you kidnap my sister,” KC tore into Iblis; she couldn’t help herself.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I didn’t think you’d help me if I asked you nicely,” Iblis said. “It’s good to see you too, by the way.”

“Is Simon alive?” KC tried to rein herself back.

“When last I saw him,” Iblis said.

“You’re pathetic.”

“And you’ve matured.” Iblis looked KC up and down. “Grown into a real woman. I guess that makes you even more deadly.”

KC tried to keep the conversation on track but failed. “You sent me to die in prison.”

“No, I didn’t. That wasn’t my idea,” Iblis protested.

“And yet you let it happen.”

Iblis pulled a business card from his pocket and handed it to KC. “Look familiar?”

KC looked at Stephen Kelley’s business card, the one Michael had given her in case Cindy ever needed to talk to someone about starting her own mergers and acquisitions firm.

“I had no idea why you would have the business card of a Boston attorney, but I sent his info along with the execution and prison details to Rome. I figured the Vatican would intervene diplomatically. Didn’t think they’d have much sympathy for a thief like you, but one of their own, a priest, being executed has a tendency to create sympathy, to force people to action.”

“That makes no sense.”

“Oh, it makes perfect sense; I needed your help to get the Piri Reis chart and the sultan’s staff. You couldn’t very well help me if you were dead, now could you?”

“You think you saved me? You’re as delusional as ever.”

“Be that as it may, I’m glad to see you standing here, looking very much alive. Whether the Vatican helped you or not, KC, I had my doubts that anyone could ever hold you for long.”

KC stood there refusing to believe that Iblis had done anything to save her, but it was the only explanation. Someone had tipped off the Vatican, and only a handful of people had known of their incarceration and scheduled demise.

“May I see the rod?” Iblis pointed at the leather satchel hanging from her shoulder.

“What guarantee do I have that you won’t kill Cindy and Simon?”

“I gave you my word.”

“Which is worth less than nothing.”

“Despite your feelings toward me, KC, you are the one thing I found good in this world.” Iblis paused, looking at the throng of people passing them by. And for the briefest of moments, something arose in his eyes. “I see part of myself in you.”

“I’m nothing like you,” KC said with revulsion. “You’re a murderer.”

“You’re more like me than you know.” Iblis nodded. “Tell me you wouldn’t kill me right now if it meant saving your sister.”

“I’d gladly take your life to save hers, but I would never kill someone for personal gain.” KC paused and looked at him with disgust. “You take pleasure in it.”

“I deny that. I feel nothing when I kill; I’ve never felt remorse, regret. And you know why? Because I’ve never felt. I don’t say that to arouse pity, I say that because my heart just can’t feel except when it comes to you.”

KC stood there in shock, her fear rising at his words.

“I don’t live behind illusions. In fact, I’m more honest with you than you are with yourself. You’re a thief, KC, living outside the law. The degree to which you live outside the law is irrelevant. You’re a thief, don’t forget that as you sit in judgment of me. You sure took to my mentoring when you needed it.”

“That’s before I knew what you really were.”

“And what’s that, what am I?”

“You’re darkness. You’re without a conscience or soul.”

“Why don’t you come work for me?” Iblis smiled, ignoring her condemning words. “Or with me? We were so good together.”

“What do you want with this?” KC disregarded his offer as she thrust out the tube.

“It’s not for me.”

“Bullshit.”

“You know who it’s for?”

“Since when do you need to work for someone?”

“There are times in life when we all answer to someone, KC.”

The moment hung in air as the crowds passed them by without interest.

“Give me the rod and you can take your sister and your friend, Simon, if he’s still alive.”

“If he’s still alive … you son of a bitch.” KC did everything to restrain herself from hitting him.

“I’m living up to my end of the deal even though you betrayed me by sending Michael—yes, I know his name and all about him—after the chart.”

“You’ve got the chart and you killed him in the process,” KC exploded.

Iblis tilted his head. “You used to be the best liar I knew, KC.”

KC said nothing as the rage poured from her eyes.

“Surely you knew that I wasn’t about to let someone else get hold of the chart. He was a good a thief, from what I saw.” Iblis paused, looking deep into KC’s eyes, and softly asked, “Was he your lover?”

KC’s eyes burned with rage as Iblis’s emotions were laid out before her. As dark and as dangerous as she knew him to be, she had never thought, never fathomed a jealous side, a side that could prove far more irrational, far more dangerous.

“How dare you ask—”

Iblis held up his hand, stopping her in midsentence. What little shred of emotion he showed dissolved from his face and he pointed at the leather tube hanging from her shoulder. “Now, can I have the rod?”

“What the hell is it?” KC held up the tube. “How are this and the chart connected?”

“Your priest friend never told you?”

KC shook her head.

“Then it’s best you don’t know.”

“Now you’re trying to protect me? Don’t bullshit me.”

“I’ll stop bullshitting you when you stop lying to me.”

“What?”

“Where is Michael?” Iblis’s voice grew stern.

“You killed him—”

“Come on,” Iblis cut her off. “You used to be the best of liars; you could convince a cop of your innocence with a smoking gun in your hand. Is this what happens when you fall in love? Your skills begin to weaken with your knees?”

KC stared at Iblis as anger began to grow in him.

“I warned you not to attempt anything foolish.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s trying to save Cindy and Simon, isn’t he?”

KC stepped back, unable to answer.

“You never listen; you always have to do things your own way. It’s a shame, really.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Michael may be smart enough to make it into my house and to where they are being held, though I doubt he will be smart enough to get them out.”

A sudden realization poured through KC.

“The room your sister and Simon are in is secure beyond compare, filled with its share of precautionary countermeasures.”

“Countermeasures?”

“Think booby traps. Your
good
friend, Michael, by thinking you’re stalling me here while he breaks into my house, is going to have some blood on his hands. If he tries to open the room she is in…” Iblis paused. “… Cindy will die.”

Cindy stood at the vault door listening to the banging and jostling of metal on metal. A feeling of relief washed over her as she looked back at Simon.

Her mind was a jumble of confusion with all that had happened in the last few days; KC’s escape from prison, the fact that she had hidden another side of herself, that she was a criminal. And then to be kidnapped by a family friend. She felt like a child again, control of her life in everyone’s hands but her own.

But what stirred in her mind now made all other thoughts pale. Despite the rage she felt toward Iblis, she had listened to his tale of the chart. Where it came from, where it led, and the secrets it would reveal. Iblis had laid bare all of the fallacies in her life: the truth about KC, about the father she never knew and why her mother wanted them to witness his burial, about himself and how he had taught KC all she knew about dealing in the underworld. Iblis had revealed just how many secrets there were in the world.

She looked at Simon as he lay unconscious, wondering how much he knew and what his part in all of this was. She had spoken with him only briefly, but while he at first appeared cold and detached, she realized that was only his focus. She had warmed to him in their brief conversations in the limo and at the hotel, seeing his caring manner.

“Simon,” Cindy said as she walked to his side and leaned over him. But there was no response. She checked his pulse; it was weak but it was there. She hoped that removing the IV from his arm had been wise; while it kept him unnecessarily sedated, it was providing him the hydration that was so important. He stirred, looking up at her through half-mast eyes as she spoke. “I don’t know if you can hear me, but your friends are here.”

“It’s about time.” Simon nodded and closed his eyes, falling back to sleep.

“We’re going to be okay,” Cindy whispered, in reassurance more to herself than Simon.

M
ICHAEL KNELT ON
the thick Persian rug, his bag of tools open on the floor beside him. He had removed the numbered flywheel from the central cylinder of the vault door, laying it on the floor behind him. He attached a small dial—it looked just like a miniature flywheel—to the spindle that protruded from the door. There were four half-inch holes surrounding the spindle, used for grasping the door during installation, a feature that went out of style in the 1930s. He was glad to be able to avoid the tedious task of drilling as he had been forced to do on certain prior occasions.

He inserted a thin gooseneck device into the upper left hole and placed a sight cup against his eye. The narrow fiber-optic viewer was self-lit, bringing the inner workings of the vault door to life. Michael maneuvered the scope, looking about the innards until he caught sight of five interlocking gears. With each turn of the wheel, the first gear would turn until the first designated number was precisely arrived at, at which point a narrow metal post that lay in wait would fall into a thin notch on the first wheel, locking it to the second wheel. The flywheel’s direction would then be reversed, carrying that pin and wheel until the second combo number was arrived at, whereat the second post would fall into the third wheel. This process would continue for all five numbers in the combination, at which point, with all five pins in place and all five gears lined up, the lever could be turned and the door opened.