“This isn’t between you and me. So fuck off!”
“But I think I can make it between the two of us. Because, although I don’t know anything about Nostradamus and this stupid book everyone keeps talking about, I’m pretty certain I came across it earlier. Do you want it?”
“I’ve already told you, the girl dies if I don’t get the book.”
“Well. We can’t have that now, can we?” The smaller of the two divers reached into a satchel he was carrying and withdrew a leather and brass codex.
Zara stared at it. Damn it. Please don’t give it to him!
The soldier loosened his grip at the sight of the book. “It’s good to see you’ve decided to play ball.”
“Now what?”
“Now you hand me the book and then go about whatever it is you were doing out here.”
The smaller of the two divers grinned. “Okay. Sure.”
She saw the book spinning through the air. A four hundred year old document written by Michel De Nostradamus and now some idiot was throwing it through the air. It landed in the water behind her.
The pressure on her throat relaxed, as her captor tried to catch the book. In the process, she was able to lean down just enough to reach her butterfly knife. She opened the knife and in one single smooth transition, sent the blade straight between her captor’s 4th and 5th intercostal space in a powerful upward motion. The blade severed his aortic arch. It was a death sentence that would take place in a matter of seconds.
The man tried to scream, but just couldn’t get the air out. She withdrew the knife, and blood spurted out through the open wound with the force of a jet engine. Zara felt the pressure around her throat go limp and the massive man fall onto her back. She rolled onto her side and the dead weight dropped into the now reddish water.
She raced towards the spot where the book had struck the water. Its heavy brass codex dragged it under the water like a stone. She dived down after it, but quickly realized she would need the dive equipment to reach it. The book had already sunk to the bottom. By the time she reached it, the book would most likely be destroyed.
Zara surfaced and walked towards the two treasure hunters. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”
The shorter of the two treasure hunters backed away as she charged at him. “Yeah, we just saved your life for a second time today.”
She stopped at the bank of the oasis without saying another word. She washed the blood off the blade of her knife and carefully folded the butterfly edges in on themselves, so the blade was no longer visible.
The shorter of the treasure hunters grinned. “I’m not so certain I’d do it a third time, though.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Sam looked at her. She was extremely beautiful, and he would have considered her quite stunning if she wasn’t so angry. She had a dark olive complexion. It was her natural skin tone, and not caused by months spent under the harsh rays of the sun. At a guess, Sam figured she had Egyptian ancestry, although she spoke English with a tinge of French in her accent.
She had lustrous black hair, emerald-hazel eyes, long dark lashes, and high cheek bones that gave her face a regal appearance. He’d noticed her small bud of a mouth was quick to smile after he’d questioned whether he’d go to the effort of saving her life for a third time. She held herself with poise, and a sense of authority reserved for those of noble birth or born into wealth. Those who believed in their heart, they were better than others. She wore a blue akhebay, the loose fitting robe which protected everything below the shoulders of a nomadic woman, and most commonly worn by the Tuareg people of the Saharan desert. But he was willing to bet the outcome of the rebellion in the DRC, there was no way she’d spent her life in the desert. Her dark skin was unblemished, her hands looked clean and her sandals were made by the high tech hiking clothing company, Gore-Tex.
She appeared indifferent to the copious amounts of dark red blood which stained her wet robes. It made him wonder if perhaps she wasn’t so high and mighty as he’d first expected. He noticed she quickly pocketed the butterfly knife, and was now frantically searching her dead captor. Unable to locate whatever it was she was after, she shuffled to the edge of the oasis and tried to climb out.
“Are you all right?” he asked offering his hand to help her up.
She refused his gesture and stood to her feet on her own. “I’m fine. I just wished you hadn’t thrown my life’s work into the water.”
“Don’t worry, we didn’t,” Sam replied.
“I saw you throw the brass covered codex into the oasis,” she said.
Sam shrugged. “That was a six hundred year old book filled with original maps of the region. We bought it to help find what we were looking for.”
“You were looking for the ancient Golden City of the Garamantes, weren’t you?”
“Yes. We’ve been following the maps and notes of early explorers in the region.”
“And did you have any luck?”
“No. It would appear the Golden City of the Garamantes is a myth.”
“I could have told you that. The Garamantes built many cities in the Sahara, but none of them this far south and none of them filled with gold.” Her voice was confident and imperious. Her eyes darted between Tom and Sam. Then she spotted the backpack Sam had found earlier. It was lying on the edge of the water. She quickly pulled it out and frantically emptied it. She stood close to him, meeting him eye to eye and challenged him. “Where is it?”
“Where’s what?” Sam asked.
“My book!” She walked around the oasis, moving towards the next corpse and started searching. “If you’ve stolen it I swear to God I’ll kill you both.”
“I’m sorry. Let’s start again. My name’s Sam Reilly, and this is Tom Bower. What’s your name?”
She ignored his question and persisted, “Where did you hide it?”
In an instant Sam realized he was wrong about her. She wasn’t born into nobility or wealth. Her sense of authority stemmed from a background in leadership. Although, who she led, he had no idea.
“Do you mean, a leather bound, brass binder codex?”
Her eyes showed instant recognition. “Where is it? What have you done to it?”
Sam smiled and pointed to the sand dune further along. “It’s buried in the sand.”
“So you did take it!”
“No. I merely buried it for safe keeping — whatever it is. I figured anything these guys were willing to kill to get their hands on, should probably be kept from them.”
She looked at where he’d buried the book and said nothing. She then walked up the next sand dune. She immediately spotted where the sand had recently been turned over and used her hands to dig the codex free.
Sam turned to face Tom, who was grinning in fascination. “Well, what do you make of that?”
“I don’t think she likes you, Sam.”
“No. Too bad. But from what I’ve seen so far, I can’t say I’m too fond of her either.”
They followed her, and watched as she found the leather bound book and shook off the sand. Once confident it was dry and free of any sand, she undid the latch and confirmed the pages were still there. She smiled. It wasn’t quite a model’s smile. Instead it was definitely something more empress-like. It portrayed her relief, but also showed that she was in command of the situation.
She latched the codex and turned to face him again. “Now. Where are the camels? We need to get out of here!”
Sam put his hands in his pockets and sighed. “Well. About that. I’m afraid one of the camels took a bullet to its head in the crossfire and the others got spooked and ran off.”
She spat on the ground. “Fools! How could you let them get away?”
“I’m sorry,” Sam said without hiding the sarcasm from his voice. “I was a little busy at the time — trying to save your life again!”