Her eyes stopped at the location where she’d first fallen into the oasis. Zara’s gaze traced the footprints from the water, up the sand dune, to where she’d dropped the book of Nostradamus. Next to her old footprints, were a second set of deep impressions in the sand. At a guess, they were from a large man, unaccustomed to the gentle movements required in traversing deep sand. Her glance stopped about a third of the way up the first sand dune — where the book was now missing.
She felt the uneasy pervasiveness of panic. Gone! It can’t be lost now! She wanted to scream out loud, “Give it back!” like a child at a playground who’d lost something precious. She forced herself to exert discretion. No book was worth losing her life over.
Zara carefully made a 360 degree turn. Scanning the area in multiple ninety degree arcs until she was certain the place was empty. Just when she was certain, Zara heard the cheerful voices of two men approaching. The question was, were they the treasure hunters who’d saved her life, or the rebel soldiers who’d tried to take it?
She ducked further into the water and waited. She didn’t have to wait long. Two men shuffled down the steep sand dune on the opposite side of the oasis. One was tall and one average in height, and shared the solidly built frames of men accustomed to hard work for most of their lives. They both wore board shorts and looked like they were at the beach on vacation, except that the shorter one was carrying an AK-47.
Who are these people?
Zara stood up, ready to find out. Across the oasis, the diver who’d saved her life, raised his AK-47 and aimed at her. In the instant it took for her to comprehend the impossible, she tried to duck under the water to avoid the spray of bullets which raked the water and sand no more than a few feet away from her.
In an instant Zara discovered she hadn’t reacted fast enough — and now might have to pay for it with her life.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Zara felt the heavy arm wrap around her neck and lock. Her captor knew just the right amount of pressure to keep her from being able to move at all while allowing her to remain conscious. She tried to reach her flick knife in her pants pocket, but couldn’t reach far enough downwards. Instead, she launched both her hands at the arm, trying to free herself. It was tough like leather and thick as any bodybuilder she’d ever seen. She dug her short fingernails into the skin as hard as she could. Her captor didn’t even grimace. She tried to find somewhere more vulnerable to attack. Her fingernails scratched at his face. The pressure on her throat tightened, instantly stopping her from being able to breathe.
“Do that again and I’ll snap your neck,” he said.
Zara made no reply.
“Now, you’re gonna tell me where that book is, bitch!”
Zara tried to speak, but her captor was pressing on her neck so hard her windpipe was being crushed. She made little more than a muffled, incomprehensible sound. Her eyes fixed on the two treasure hunters on the other side of the oasis. Both were running down the sand dune towards her. She grinned. Would they really save her life twice in one day? She needed to buy time. Zara pointed to her neck and tried to speak again. More garbled noise came out, but nothing comprehensible.
“If I release some of the pressure are you going to talk?” he asked.
Zara nodded. She felt the pressure loosen slightly and took a deep breath in. “Yes.”
“Good. Now, where did you hide the book of Nostradamus?”
“I can’t remember,” Zara replied. “My mind’s been a little rattled by the recent events. I nearly drowned and now you’re trying to choke me.”
“Remember soon, or your neck will snap under my arm like a chicken bone,” her captor reminded her.
Zara watched as the two men on the other side of the oasis split up. One ran clockwise around the oasis, while the other went counterclockwise. They were going to double up on her captor, preparing to target him from both sides. She quietly mumbled something incoherent. The pressure on her throat noticeably loosened again.
“I buried it in the sand.”
“Where?”
“Other side of the oasis. Can’t be sure where, but you’ll find it eventually.”
“I need you to show me exactly where you buried it.”
She dipped her head, like she no longer had the strength or the will to live. Her captor pulled on her hair until her head faced him. Her captor was dark skinned. He wore a camouflaged uniform like the others who’d tried to drown her. His brown eyes were wide, and he smiled as their eyes met. He had a well-developed jawline and heavy facial features, which were disrupted by his pleasant smile. It gave him the appearance of a man who didn’t want to hurt her, but would force himself to, if it was the only way to achieve his goal.
He looked really happy. She guessed the treasure hunters had somehow beaten the other three men, including his commander — so why was he so happy? The answer hit her hard. He wants the money, he doesn’t care about a rebellion. He thinks he’s going to be rich!
She saw the shorter of the two treasure hunters, the one with the AK-47, approach quietly. She mumbled something inaudible.
“Speak up!” her captor demanded.
Zara looked directly in his eyes. “Go to hell.”
“No doubt I will. But first I intend to get rich, and so I’m gonna need that book.”
The soldier looked at her eyes, as though she might betray where she hid it. She stared back at him, challenging him to look away. Abruptly his grin set hard as he noticed her eyes glance to the left. At the same time, Zara felt the pressure on her throat tighten to the point she nearly passed out. The man spun around to face the man who had rescued her.
“That’s close enough. Any further and I break her tiny neck. I could do it in a heartbeat. Like pulling the wings off a beautiful butterfly.”
“What do you want?” The shorter man asked without lowering his AK-47.
“I want the book.”
The treasure hunter smiled confidently. It appeared honest and unpracticed. She noticed the lines of his smile formed easily, like a man who smiled often. There was more to it though. Something that said, I can have it all in life. Comfortable. Confident. He then shrugged. “Or, I could shoot you dead now?”
“Wouldn’t work,” her captor responded without taking any pressure off her windpipe.
“Why not?”
“You might hit me, or you might miss. Either way, I would have enough time to break her neck. And don’t think I haven’t noticed the second man to my left.”
The treasure hunter appeared genuinely indifferent. “I can live with it, either way.”
“Look. This situation could go really bad both ways. But if you give me the book, we’ll all walk away.”
“What makes this book so damned valuable?”
“The book of Nostradamus tells us the future. You know the future and you know what will happen with the stock market, lotto, you name it, the book has the answers — a man without morals could do very well with such a book. I’ve had a hard life, but no more. Now I want to get paid. I get the book, or the girl dies.”
“I’d prefer it if you didn’t do that…”