Jade came to an abrupt stop.
“What is it?” Kellogg hissed.
“This doesn’t make any sense.”
“What?”
Jade turned, pushed past him and started back up the tunnel, toward the diffuse glow of her attackers’ light. “Hey! Who the hell are you, huh? What do you want?”
She knew she was shouting but could barely hear herself over the sound of blood rushing in her ears. Every step forward brought her closer to what might very well be a fatal encounter, but instead of fear, she felt only anger. She had faced life or death situations plenty of times before. She could handle the threat, but she absolutely hated not knowing why.
“What do you want?” she repeated.
The light bobbed uncertainly, shifted away as if the man holding it was thinking about turning to flee.
“Answer me, damn it.”
She thought she heard him say something, not words, but the same nonsense chant she had heard before. “La-la-la-la…” Then the light shifted toward her again and she knew that the man was about to make a move. Jade threw an arm up to ward off the expected blow and charged toward the light.
The impact wasn’t as bad as she expected. Her shoulder caught a glancing blow to something relatively soft — probably the guy’s gut — and then she rebounded away like a pinball, striking the second man solidly.
The darkness concealed most of what happened, but the grunts of pain and sounds of bodies hitting the ground painted a vivid enough picture. There was a loud clank as one of the men dropped his pipe, and then a scuffling noise. The light bobbed and then went dim as the man holding it turned away and shone it back up the tunnel. Jade scrambled back to her feet, fists raised, but the light was moving away.
The men were fleeing.
Jade stared at the receding glow, too astounded at the unlikely victory to even think about what would happen next.
Another light flashed behind her. She whirled, fists still up but it was only Kellogg holding up his own mobile phone. “You…” He swallowed. “That was incredible.”
“Uh, thanks.”
Kellogg brought the phone close to his face. “No signal. We need to get out of here.”
“Right,” Jade’s answer was automatic but then she realized what Kellogg was trying to do. “Are you calling someone?”
“I should say so. I’m calling the police.”
She extended her hand, palm out. “No. No police.”
“In case you weren’t paying attention, we were just assaulted.”
“Yes, and in case you weren’t paying attention, I sent them packing. But until we know who’s behind it, we don’t trust anyone. Got it?”
Kellogg snorted. “Oh, it’s obvious who’s behind it.”
The only obvious thing about the attack, as far as Jade could tell, was that the perpetrators would eventually figure out that they had left the job unfinished. “No police,” she repeated. “Now come on. Let’s get out of here before they realize they just got their asses kicked by a girl.”
As she started forward, her toe struck the discarded metal pipe and sent it rolling down the tunnel. She scooped it up and hefted it in her right hand. “That’s more like it.” She half-expected Kellogg to lecture her about destroying fingerprint evidence but he thankfully remained silent.
With the cudgel held in both hands like a baseball bat, Jade moved back up the passage to the break in the wall of the fogou. There was no sign of the two men. She turned back to Kellogg. “Turn off your phone,” she whispered. “No light, and not a sound. But stay close.”
He nodded and then vanished along with the rest of the fogou when the screen went dark. Jade picked her way slowly through the breach, and then began walking stealthily, rolling her feet forward heel-to-toe with exaggerated slowness so as not to betray their presence. She strained her ears, listening for any noise that might indicate the two attackers were returning or lying in wait at the entrance to the chamber, but all she could hear was the sound of falling rain, growing louder with each step forward.
When she could just distinguish the outline of the tunnel mouth, the stormy night sky a faintly lighter shade of darkness than the subterranean depths, she stopped and listened for a full thirty seconds. It was the perfect place for an ambush. She leaned back until she felt Kellogg’s chest against her head. “Stay here,” she whispered.
Before he could reply, she leaped into motion, sprinting to the far end of the stone-lined trench and scrambling up the slick stone surface. If the men were waiting to attack, her best chance at surviving was a dynamic exit. She heaved herself onto the damp earth above ground, and rolled forward in a somersault twist that brought her up in a crouch facing back toward the fogou, the pipe held up and ready to parry any attack.
None came. The two men were long gone.
Jade took a few calming breaths before calling out to Kellogg. “All clear. Come on up.”
Kellogg emerged tentatively, then clambered out of the hole to join her. “Now will you let me call the police?”
“What did you mean when you said you knew who they were?”
Kellogg’s face was unreadable in the gloom. “Are you serious? Didn’t you hear what they were saying?”
“I was kind of preoccupied.”
“‘La ilaha illa’lla.’ It’s Arabic. ‘There is no god but God.’”
As he said it, Jade’s memory of the muttered words became crystal clear, and she knew he was correct. Their attackers had been reciting the shahadah, a statement of faith considered one of the pillars of Islam. Not only was the shahadah part of the five-times daily Muslim prayer ritual, but it was also reputedly the last words spoken by suicide bombers as a way of ensuring that their self-inflicted death would be counted as an act of martyrdom and not suicide, which was a damnable sin according to the Quran.
“Those men were Arabs,” Kellogg continued. “Just like the man that killed Mr. Roche. So, may I please call the police now?”
Jade felt an inexplicable confusion, as if knowing the truth about the motive behind the attack was somehow worse than ignorance or uncertainty. She had not wanted to believe the official version of Roche’s death because accepting it would mean admitting that she had badly misjudged Rafi’s character. Obviously, she had done exactly that.
“They’re going to ask what we were doing here,” she finally said. “They might even take the thumb drive with Roche’s book.”
She thought she saw him sag visibly in defeat, but in the darkness it was impossible to say. “I suppose you’re right.”
For some reason, postponing a conversation with the local constabulary elevated Jade’s mood by a few degrees. “I say we go somewhere safe, change clothes and get something to eat. I hear the haggis and titties at the Weston Tavern are simply to die for.”
Kellogg made a futile attempt to stifle his laughter.
“Then we’ll find a computer and plug this thing in,” Jade said, “and see if we can figure out what Roche discovered that’s worth killing over.”
ELEVEN
Professor drifted on the edge of consciousness, sometimes rising to the surface just long enough to wonder where he was and what had happened, before sliding back down into the darkness. He caught disjointed bits of conversation, but none of it made any sense. He was not sure that the words being spoken were in English, though he had a vague sense of comprehending what was being said even as it slipped out of his memory. Each time it happened, he knew that it would not last. Brief moments of lucidity were a common occurrence when under the influence of anesthesia. When he was able to keep his eyes open for more than a few seconds, he knew he was finally coming up for good. The drug, whatever it was, had worn off.